“Sketch and Talk” Drawing Lines Between Humans, the Interior, and Stuff. Design Methodologies for Well-Being in Prisons, Forensic Psychiatric Hospitals, and Special Residential Youth Homes Franz James Franz James “Sketch and Talk” Drawing Lines Between Humans, the Interior, and Stuff Art Monitor “Sketch and Talk” Franz James “Sketch and Talk” Drawing Lines Between Humans, the Interior, and Stuff. Design Methodologies for Well-Being in Prisons, Forensic Psychiatric Hospitals, and Special Residential Youth Homes HDK-Valand – Academy of Art and Design, University of Gothenburg Thesis for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Design at HDK-Valand – Academy of Art and Design, Faculty of Fine, Applied and Performing Arts, University of Gothenburg, Sweden This doctoral thesis is no. 95 in the series Art Monitor doctoral dissertations and licentiate theses at Faculty of Fine, Applied and Performing Arts, University of Gothenburg, Sweden. Published by Göteborgs universitet (Avhandlingar). www.konst.gu.se/artmonitor This doctoral thesis is published in full in GUPE A (Gothenburg University Publications Electronic Archive): https:// hdl.handle.net/2077/76386 Printer: Stema Specialtryck A B, Borås, 2023 © Franz James, 2023 Please be aware that the sketches and photos are the author’s intellectual property. Contact the author for any reproduction and access to high resolution images. ISBN: 978-91-8069-149-9 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-8069-150-5 (Digital) Abstract v Title: “Sketch and Talk” – Drawing Lines Keywords: Design methods, design Between Humans, the Interior, and methodology, field drawing, Stuff. Design Methodologies for Well- ethnographic drawing, carceral design, Being in Prisons, Forensic Psychiatric prison design, youth homes, forensic Hospitals, and Special Residential psychiatric hospitals, sketching. Youth Homes ISBN: 978-91-8069-149-9 (Printed) Research Subject: Design ISBN: 978-91-8069-150-5 (Digital) Language: English with summary in Swedish UR L: https://hdl.handle.net/2077/76386 With increasing global and local incarceration, the demand for prison beds is rapidly growing. The Swedish government’s plans for implementing youth prisons and amending laws regarding young people’s sentences risk increasing the already high numbers of mental health problems. Al- though security is an inherent element of institutions for care and incarceration (ICI), the present focus on reinforcing security is similarly jeopardizing the health of inmates, patients, and youths in prisons, forensic psychiatric hospitals, and youth homes. Moreover, the rapid production of beds will likely lead to issues with staff security and work environment. The field of research for design in correctional institutions and behavioral health is limited. Although there is an increased interest in evidence-based design, EBD cannot be said to extend to all design aspects for vulnerable people in ICIs. However, this dissertation critically discusses the dichotomies, meanings, and connecting lines between incarcerated humans, the interior, and stuff, and it looks primarily at the design of institutions in Scandinavia. Moreover, ICIs are un- derstood in this dissertation as an existential and ethical dichotomy with well-being on the one hand and the losses that incarceration brings on the other. The tension between punishment and (re)habilitation manifests through materiality, design, and high-security measures. However, the question for design is not whether it is possible to hinder the pain and losses that come with in- carceration but how design can mitigate these losses, alleviate pain, foster well-being, and assist staff through a safe and supportive work environment. Part of this doctoral project has been conducted within a multidisciplinary research project aimed at creating knowledge about youths’ experience of the physical environment in Sweden’s youth homes (SiS). Two of this dissertation’s five papers were written as part of this research project (IV, V). The other three papers discuss the early method development of Sketch and Talk (II), the narrative of patients’ experience of the physical environment in forensic care (I), and the design of prison cells through the narratives of three women (III). The theoretical underpinning of this dissertation is inspired by phenomenology and eth- nography. It therefore advocates for a design research methodology that brings the researcher closer to the phenomenon and into the node of peoples’ experiences. Hence, one of this disser- tation’s contributions is the Sketch and Talk method, which uses sketching and talking when meeting a participant in their cell or room as a way of creating a space for mutual observation and understanding of the interior. Moreover, as ethical awareness is paramount in research with vulnerable groups, the method has been valuable through its transparency and open approach. Design for ICIs can be seen as a “wicked problem” and is as much an ethical and ideologi- cal matter as a design-related problem. This dissertation identifies a “wickedness” in how design processes primarily take their point of departure in previous products and seek to improve them. Therefore, when penal ideology is saturating the previous product (ICI) the ideology has per- tained to the new ICI as carceral design heritage. Identifying carceral design is in itself a first step in designing for well-being. This presents a wide-open opportunity to reform and rethink – an opportunity we must take, particularly in light of planned investments and expansion. This dissertation suggests that future research can contribute with more knowledge on how an interior can promote well-being through design for autonomy, dwelling, and movement and as a result can open up new horizons of change and hope. vi Contents Abstract v Acknowledgements ix List of Appended Papers xi Introduction 1 Disposition 7 Research Questions 9 1. Background and Personal Reflections 11 What Led to a Dissertation on Design for ICIs 11 Visiting ICIs, Now and Then 13 A Walk in the Park It Was Not… 13 A Sunny Prison 15 The “Ancient” Forensic Psychiatric Hospital 17 SiS: A “Dry” Place by the Lake 20 Backgrounds, Facts, and Statistics on the Population of the Three Types of ICIs 24 Prisons 27 Forensic Psychiatric Hospitals 29 SiS’s Special Residential Youth Homes 31 2. Design and Stuff 35 The Linear Design Process 37 Challenges of Designing With 39 Actually Slowing Down 42 Design Dilemmas and Wicked Problems 43 Who’s the User? 46 Carceral Design 47 Carceral Design as a Staged Commodity 52 Materiality as a Carceral Mediator 54 3. Research and Literature 57 Evidence-Based Design 62 Sketching 65 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations 69 Introduction 69 Theoretical Point of Departure 71 Phenomenology and Design 73 Ethnography & Design Inquires 78 Care and Incarceration: Opposing Frameworks? 80 Ethical Considerations 87 Contents vii Design and Ethics 87 Research Ethics 91 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 93 Drawing the 1970s 93 A Multimethod Design Method 96 Ethnographic Methods 101 Fieldwork 101 Talking About Stuff, Interviews 111 Participant Observation 115 Shadowing 118 Observation 120 Sketch and Talk & Photovoice 120 Sketching Draws Attention 124 Traces of Lines 126 Temporalities in Sketching 129 Drawing Straight Lines 131 A Sketchbook or a Camera 134 Sketching in Restricted Settings 135 Ethical Perspectives on Sketch and Talk 136 5. Discussion 139 Drawing Carceral Experience 141 Design Research and the Lifeworld 148 Experiencing Prototypes 151 Dismantling “Carceral Design” 153 “Fit and Re-Orientation” 153 A State-of-the-Art Facility? 154 Are Not All Environments Pedagogic? 157 Violence, Movement, and Opportunities 157 Final Words 160 Further Research 161 Swedish Summary 163 Summary of the Appended Papers 197 List of All Published Papers During the Doctoral Studies 203 References 205 Appendix 227 ix Acknowledgements I am struck by how open-heartedly and generously all patients, youths, and inmates have shared their experiences with me. They met me with patience and openness, and they let me know when it wasn’t the right time to talk, but also when we could meet again. I want to express my greatest gratitude to all the devoted staff and decision makers that “let me in” and shared their experiences and thoughts on what kind of environment these institutions are – and could become. You have been supportive, interested, and dedicated in contributing to research and change. Luckily, this small but emerging field is gifted with so many dedicated people. Thank you for bringing me into the field of care and incarceration, and not least the field of research. I cannot name all, but would like to name a few: Yngve Hammerlin, Roger Ulrich, Henric Benesch, Elisabeth Fransson, Bob Sommer, Richard E. Wener, Dominique Moran, Jennifer Turner, Jan Beskow, Arthur Allen, Stefan Lundin, Sepideh Olausson, Helle Wijk, Pähr Forsberg, Héléne Nyman, Doris Bakken, Anne Kemi, Daniel Noelle, Frank Pitts, Susanne Tell, Elisabeth Punzi, and, again, all the generous people who have shared their knowledge and asked tricky questions along the way. Bob Sommer, Arthur Allen, and Jan Beskow passed away in 2021. Bob, Arthur, and Jan had seen it all, but there was still no limit to their engage- ment. Their contributions represent an era that must be added to the history, understanding, and living knowledge of the existential meaning and making of all future institutions. I would like to express my appreciation to my colleagues at Campus Steneby and HDK-Valand Academy of Art and Design, as well as my fellow doctoral students for friendship, support, and critical discussions. Similarly, I want to thank the SiS research team members for the great opportunity to work together on such an important project: thanks to Helle Wijk, Stefan Lundin, Sepideh Olausson, Kajsa Nolbeck, Charlotta Thodelius, and Göran Lindahl. Furthermore, I am grateful for the support and time to write that has been afforded me by my colleagues at Healsafe Interior. x Acknowledgements Lastly, to my family and friends I want to express my love and sincere gratitude for your support, all the stolen time, and not least by now the very last bit of your patience. xi List of Appended Papers I ”Allt annat än hemma, det är helvetet!” Berättelser om den fysiska miljön på Rågården. James, F. 2017. C. Caldenby & S. Lundin (Eds.), Rättspsykiatri med mänskligt ansikte”: ARQ – Stiftelsen för arkitekturforskning. (English title: “Everything but home, it’s hell!” Narratives about the physical environment at Rågården.) II “‘Sketch and Talk’: An ethnographic design method opening closed institutions.” James, F., 2017. Cumulus Working Papers 33/16: Cumulus Hong Kong 2016: Open Design for E-very-thing. III “‘It’s important to not lose myself ’ Beds, Carceral Design and Women’s Everyday Life within Prison Cells” James, F. (2018). E. Fransson, F. Giofrè, & B. Johnsen (Eds.), Prison Architecture and Humans. Cappelen Damm Akademisk. IV “Designing for care: employing ethnographic design methods at special care homes for young offenders – a pilot study” James, F., & Olausson, S., 2018. Design for Health, 2:1. V “‘Fit and Re- Orientation’ Carceral Heritage in Contemporary Design of Special Residential Homes for Youth and Its Impact on Wellbeing”. James, F., & Olausson, S., 2021. Brill. 1 Introduction I can see the prison from the platform when I get off the train. The grayish nineteenth-century building is located on the other side of the highway at the far end of a large field. It’s late April, but neither the field nor the trees are green yet. First, I cross the highway through a tunnel and come to a paved bicycle path. Now the challenge is to cross the field. I ask a couple of locals, who point to the lower left corner of the field. I walk there and follow a muddy path for a couple hundred meters. I pass three kids with backpacks on their way to school and a few dog owners. I pass the back of the prison’s courtyard and turn right along the fence. Finally I arrive at the gate. It’s 09:55 when I press the bell. The guard opens instantly: I am expected. I leave my ID with him and store my phone and valuables in a locker. The guard then asks me if I have any sugar in my backpack that I’m bringing into the prison. At first I don’t understand the question, but then he tells me they’re having problems with inmates making alcohol. A few minutes later, the deputy prison warden enters and gives me a warm welcome. The guard buzzes open the door that leads into the women’s prison, and we walk up the stairs to meet the staff and talk about my project. One hour later, Nina and I sit and talk in her cell about this and that, stuff she misses, and why it matters to her. Nina says, “It’s important to not lose myself.” What she wanted to say was that her loss of personal belongings meant a threat to being herself. We continue talking, and I sketch the inte- rior simultaneously as we talk. We keep on talking about different functions of the furniture and what the interior, the furniture, and materiality mean to her – how the interior has shaped her and how she has shaped it, not only through the paper that dims the light, but also how she has given meaning to the bed, furniture, and walls. The next time we meet, five months later, Nina has changed cells from “the one no one wanted” to a larger cell with more daylight, a nice view over the surrounding landscape, and, most importantly, her toilet pan is now placed op- posite the bed rather than next to it. Nina has decorated her new cell in creative ways that make her bed a place from which she “travels” and can reach worlds 2 Introduction outside the prison. To me, it’s as if Nina has created the perfect ambience for the metaphysical journeys she will take. Nina has done several interventions to affect the room’s atmosphere, and she keeps it tidy to maintain her self-respect. However, some of the things Nina needs to be herself are not permitted in the cell. For instance, the number of bottles for make-up and hygiene, to Nina’s disappointment, is limited to fifteen. Perfume is not permitted, which is a great loss for her, she says, but as a substitute she wears fabric softener on her neck. Nina was largely oriented outwards, away, to her family, and she was fighting to keep her self. She traveled to do so. Nina’s ability to reach beyond the walls of the cell said something about “what was actually going on”: the bed had “actually” more meaning than what we take for granted. Nevertheless, incarceration comes with restrictions, which in the prison can be understood as a materialized penal ideology, however unintended it may be. It is, after all, a power structure that constitutes Nina’s lifeworld: she lacks the power to ne- gotiate, or facilitate, her needs to the level where her losses – social, economic, relational etc. – can be mitigated. Nevertheless, Nina has agency to take action, to act out in counterbalance: she tapes paper to the bedside lamp, creates the “portal,” and resists “losing her self.” To uphold her limited source of power, she needed artifacts, commodities, products, things – stuff from the material world. This dissertation is concerned with the socio-material space in institutions in which people are either cared for involuntarily, sentenced to care, or sen- tenced to deprivation of freedom. This type of care, (re)habilitation and/or punishment, is given in institutions such as prisons, psychiatric hospitals for adults, forensic psychiatric hospitals, psychiatric hospitals for children and adolescents, drug treatment facilities, and special residential youth homes for young offenders. The focus of this dissertation, however, is on prisons, forensic psychiatric hospitals, and special residential youth homes, and it is primarily concerned with the lived experiences of patients, clients, and youths. To be able to write about the different types of institutions without contin- uously repeating the names of them, I constructed the abbreviation ICI to stand for “institutions for care and incarceration.” I hope that the term ICI does not bring more confusion than necessary for the reader. Regardless, these institutions have in common that they are assigned both to hold people in incarceration and to give care. This can be understood as an existential and ethical dichotomy, with well-being on one hand and the losses that incarceration brings on the other. Introduction 3 FIGUR E 1. Nina, sitting on her bed in her cell. I ask why she wants to talk, be interviewed. She says, “You draw, you ask about personal matters of how it is here. Important for others to know.” But I don’t know. I haven’t been an inmate. I visit Nina and I try to understand, not only through our conversation but also through the atmosphere, the smell, the sounds, the temperature, and the stuff. Also: how Nina and I are positioned in the room. I’m sitting on a cold chair, aware of the proximity, how small the cell is. Nina is sort of holding herself with her arms wrapped around her knees. And yet she’s strong and apparently not going to “lose her self.” The room has a pleasant smell from the bottles of lotion and other products. The cell is kept neat and tidy. Her family is present, the kids are there on her notice board. But the board frames relationships and a life that are not present. It creates a weird sense of a feeling I can’t get around: they’re there, but they aren’t. There is something awkward about time, space, bodies, and relations while we’re sitting there. But it’s complex, maybe impossible to describe in words. Yet we were sitting there then – this is how it was. 4 Introduction Although they share many common factors, problems, and opportuni- ties, these institutions and the associated research communities rarely share knowledge with one another through conferences, networks, or organizations. I hope that this dissertation can be a small contribution to acknowledging the similarities and disseminating knowledge among the different ICIs. The design of these institutions’ physical environments has been the focus of investigation in this doctoral project. One of the aims has been to understand what type of processes and thoughts have led to the decisions underlying the design of ICIs. Furthermore, this dissertation asks questions about how a design researcher and design practitioner can gain understanding of the meanings that are inscribed in the material world of stuff and interiors in ICIs. However, I first needed to understand as far as possible what it meant to experience everyday life in involuntary care. I needed to get out into the field. During my fieldwork, I have met many members of staff and numerous stakeholders who are truly engaged in improving the physical environment at their institution; however engaged they may be, though, the physical environ- ment many times appears to be downplayed and lost in planning processes. Unfortunately, a lack of knowledge is apparent and manifested in the interior of many new buildings. The good intentions that were there initially appear to be lost in these processes. Could this be because the physical environment is not seen as an important factor in care, or are there structural, ideological, economic, or other explanations to this approach? Twelve years ago, when I first designed objects for ICIs, the main task was to design objects that were ligature resistant. The term means that it should not be possible to attach a shoelace or other object that would allow for suicide by strangulation. When designing these products, I regarded the security function as equal to the semantics that expressed the product’s primary func- tion of visual readability and a sense of “normality.” In other words, it was not enough that the product, for instance a bathroom shelf, was ligature resistant and suitable in its primary function as a horizontal surface for hygiene prod- ucts; it also needed to be understood as a “generic” or “neutral” product that you would expect to meet at a care home or an ordinary hotel. In discussions with staff and other stakeholders (not inmates, patients, or youths) the term “homelike” was used repeatedly when we spoke about the design of the interior. But whose “home” were they referring to? What Introduction 5 thoughts, ideologies, plans, or feelings underpin the ambition of this term? What does it mean to live with the institutional interior, its stuff and space, for those who live there day after day and involuntarily inhabit these specifi- cally designed spaces. To understand the meaning of these objects, interiors, and spaces, I would need to find out what it means to inhabit such a space. I needed to go backwards in a kind of reversed design process, from the objects to the experience and meaning of everyday life with the objects. To do so I also needed a method that would be applicable in these “carceral cultural land- scapes” (Moran, 2015, pp. 129–131). During this doctoral project, I have developed the method I call “Sketch and Talk.” It is adapted to the special circumstances of ICIs that relate to se- curity, ethics, context, and applicability. The tools for the method have been a sketchbook and a pen. One might ask, could I not simply have used a video camera or a digital recorder when I met Nina? But I am not sure how Nina would have felt about our conversations if the recordings and images were “out there” in digital form, beyond her control, notwithstanding my guaranties of her anonymity. I do not know how it would have affected the quality of the data or the trusting relationship we established that made it possible for us to talk about stuff. And I will never know, as it was never an option. I would not have been able to carry out this project if I had not been granted access to the field. I have spent months inside different ICIs in all, and still it feels as though this time was too short. I have visited 48 institutions in 8 countries since 2014, when I began my doctoral studies. However, it is as much an epistemic challenge as an opportunity to define these institutions under the collective term of “ICI.” The benefit of including widespread care contexts and various levels of incarceration in one doctoral project cannot yet be fully evaluated. There is a risk that blending several types of institu- tions is confusing, and there are geographic and cultural contexts that bring yet another interpretative difficulty. Still, bringing institutions together that share existential and material meaning can contribute to the epistemological and ontological aspect of ICIs. However, within the scope and limitations of this dissertation, it has not been possible to include other related institutions of incarceration, which means that so far I have not studied refugee camps or detention centers, to name only two. Nor have I broadened the concept or metaphorical aspect of incarceration, such as being “imprisoned in your 6 Introduction body” or other emotional or physical states that evoke the feeling and being of incarceration. In 2016, I was invited to join a research team that applied for funding from the Swedish National Board of Institutional Care (SiS). This led to a three-year research project aimed at creating knowledge about children and adolescents’ experience of the physical environment in special residential youth homes. The research project started in 2017 but the final report will be published in 2023. The transdisciplinary project was led by Professor Helle Wijk of the Institute of Health and Care Sciences, Sahlgrenska Academy, University of Gothenburg. The project has involved intensive and extensive fieldwork and so far has resulted in a number of peer-reviewed articles and presentations at research conferences. Papers IV and V have been written as part of the research project. The ambition of the SiS research project was initially to be able to produce an audit tool that could be used by the governmental agencies to evaluate the facilities. We quickly understood, however, that we needed to do basic research before we could say anything about the design of an audit tool. Furthermore, to empirically isolate architectural and interior design factors, a randomized controlled study would require participant groups that were unchanged during a sustainable period of time. This could not be possible without the risk of unethical interventions in youth’s care and lives, since where, how, and when they receive care is unpredictable and in constant flux. In other words, the groups’ constitution cannot be kept constant because the youths are under constant risk of being transferred to a different ward or facility due to unpre- dictable incidents, planning by the social services, or deterioration in their mental health status. It is therefore unfair, unfortunately, to expect that type of randomized controlled studies for informed design decisions. Timewise, it has not been possible to conduct separate studies that focus on staff or other stakeholders, although I have collected data that can be of use in future papers. I am aware that staff and other stakeholders have been relegated to the background of this dissertation. This is not to say that these stakeholders and their experiences are any less important. However, to fully understand what these institutions are and to be able to design the best envi- ronments possible, the experiences of both staff and governmental agencies would benefit from further research. Introduction 7 Disposition In the following chapters, I attempt to lay out the common ground of the pre- sented papers as well as further reflections on the field, methodological consid- erations, findings, and further implications. I will also discuss, partly but not extensively, a design practitioner’s wanderings in the field of design for ICIs. After the disposition, I pose three research questions that narrow down the complex field of design for institutions of care and incarceration and prompt further reflection. The research questions relate to methods of creating knowl- edge about the lived experience of ICIs, but also to the designer’s practice. The research questions are followed by the first chapter, which discusses my personal reflections on the field and my first encounters with these institutions in my role as a doctoral student. I describe the impressions and feelings of the first visits to a prison, a forensic psychiatric hospital, and a special residential youth home. Furthermore, I reflect on my personal experiences of visiting a psychiatric hospi- tal in the 1970s and conclude that luckily much has changed. Still, there is a lot to invite critical discussion. This section is followed by a range of backgrounds, facts, and statistics on the populations that are cared for in the three types of ICIs. It is not necessary to lay too much weight on these numbers and facts; however, some background knowledge is necessary when designing for ICIs. After the introductory chapter, the second chapter will discuss the field of design from a perspective of design processes and methods, and how these reveal some of the “wicked” challenges of designing for ICIs. I suggest finding alternative ways to approach the design problems for ICIs and reconsidering the usual practices. I will also give account of what I call “carceral design.” This term is meant to call attention to the carceral (prison-like) heritage that still informs most ICIs. In Chapter Three I will introduce some of the research that is related to the field of this dissertation. However, the field is still emerging, and within the discipline of design research there is yet a rather limited production of literature on design for ICIs. Although there is an increased interest in evi- dence-based design (EBD) among practitioners, researchers, and governmen- tal agencies, this interest cannot be said to extend to all aspects of design for vulnerable people in ICIs. The methodological and theoretical considerations are laid out in Chapter Four. Here I discuss how this dissertation uses theory based on 8 Introduction phenomenology and how phenomenology relates to design and design meth- ods, specifically in the context of design for ICIs. I suggest that design and phenomenology share questions that are important and go beyond the every- day life we take for granted. Ethical considerations of both design and research are discussed in Chapter Five. This chapter does not yet discuss the ethical challenges of Sketch and Talk, which are brought up in instead in the next chapter. The following chapter, Chapter Six, gives an introduction of personal re- flections and background to sketching from the 1970s and 80s. Furthermore, this chapter discusses the development of Sketch and Talk and its applicability in ICIs. I present the method as a compilation of ethnographic methods and tools that are inseparable from it and illustrate this through a graphic model. Yet another model illustrates and analyses the situational, relational, corporal, and spatial activity of Sketch and Talk, which is further discussed in the last sections of this chapter. I will also draw theoretical lines from the method to theorists’ abstractions of sketching to expand the horizon of what sketching is about, but also to what emerges in the situational, relational, corporal, and spatial activity of Sketch and Talk. However, before this section I give an ac- count of how Sketch and Talk uses and relates to ethnographic methods such as interviews, participant observation, shadowing, and observation. Moreover, I give a short account of how we in the SiS research team used and merged Sketch and Talk with the method known as photovoice. Lastly, the chapter discusses ethical perspectives of Sketch and Talk. Chapter Seven conducts a discussion with the point of departure in this dissertations’ two research questions. The chapter is introduced with a descrip- tion of the current increasing need for beds in ICIs and the affect it may have on mental health, not least for young people. This is followed by a discussion about the unfolding of peoples’ everyday lived experiences through sketching and how these sketches can be understood as “witnessing”. Furthermore, this dissertation’s design research methodology is discussed in relation to peoples’ life world in experiencing prototyping and mock-up rooms and how the re- searcher can be brought closer to the phenomenon of investigation. The two concepts of carceral design and Fit and Re-Orientation are reviewed in relation to the wicked problem of designing for ICIs. This is followed by a discussion about calm bodies and movement, and the opportunity that is opened if both are acknowledged as equal parts of being human. Lastly, I suggest areas for Introduction 9 further research, not least the need for increased knowledge about how people with neuro psychiatric problems experience the interior in ICIs. Research Questions These research questions are formulated to prompt reflection and further questions; they are not designed for “black and white” answers. Research questions in many other fields, such as medicine and natural sciences, tend to be formulated for measurable answers; however, in design, art, and human- ities, research questions in general have an investigative and open approach (Blank, 2013). The research questions in this project have led to the choice of method (Bryman, 2007). • What kind of everyday lived experience is brought to people who are cared for in environments designed for care and incarceration? • How can design research methods be used to create a deeper understand- ing and knowledge of the role the interior and its objects play in people’s lived experience of compulsory care? The practicing designer’s questions, goals, and approach are to a certain extent similar to the researcher’s, but they are also differentiated – e.g., methods and ethical obligations differ, and not least the amount of time that can be dedicated to a project. However, this dissertation does not primarily aim to investigate these differences, nor to view research questions critically in relation to the prac- ticing designer’s processes. Nevertheless, I have been fortunate to move between research and practice and bring some of the questions from one field to another. In the text of this dissertation, I will sometimes wander between the designer’s questions and the researcher’s questions. I hope that doing so will function as a tool to clarify differences as well as similarities. 11 1. Background and Personal Reflections One might wonder how this dissertation came about and why I write about the specific scope of ICIs in relation to design. It happens that more or less all of it relates to my practice as a designer, but there are some other connections as well, however serendipitous. In this section, I will first account for the background that led to this dissertation, then for my previous personal reflections and experiences, and lastly reflection on my early encounters with the three different types of institutions. What Led to a Dissertation on Design for ICIs In 2010, I was introduced to the field of design for institutions for care and incarceration through my practice as a designer when designing products for forensic psychiatric hospitals. As my awareness of the need for interior prod- ucts for ICIs grew, so did my design work in this field. I am now a partner at Healsafe Interiör A B, where we design, produce, and sell interior products to prisons, jails, psychiatric hospitals, forensic psychiatric hospitals, and special residential youth homes. The majority of our customers are psychiatric hospi- tals in Sweden and abroad. It was this development that led to my application for doctoral studies in 2104. The announcement of doctoral student positions was an unforeseen opportunity to learn more about the field and not least to earn a doctoral degree. Through my practice, doctoral studies, and the SiS research project I have gained access to places of care and incarceration. Patients, clients, youths, and staff have not only shared their experiences, but also given extremely valid input to the design of interior objects. The staff ’s need for a safe and func- tioning work environment and their lived experiences have contributed to all areas of design for this field. My practice as a designer and the field of my doctoral studies intersect, as do my questions, interests, and ambiguities. Most of these are discussed in this dissertation, though I have left out those that relate to company development. 12 1. Background and Personal Reflections However, the road to doctoral studies in the context of ICIs would not have opened if I had not been a practicing designer and partner at Healsafe Inte- rior. The company was founded in 2012 in response to product needs from a forensic psychiatric hospital in Huddinge (Stockholm). At that time, the primary focus of the designed products was “ligature resistance,” – i.e., pre- venting people from taking their own lives. However, there has since been an ongoing effort in product development aimed at mitigating self-harm. In re- cent years, there has been a growing demand for products that respond to the need for a safe work environment for staff. The company has been growing steadily since 2012 and now (2023) has about 14 coworkers. The company’s concept is to design safe and healing environments anywhere these types of interior products are needed. Primarily that is in psychiatric hospitals, child and adolescent psychiatric hospitals, special residential youth homes, homes for care or residence, assisted living for people with intellectual disabilities, prisons, and jails. Healsafe Interior is based in Gothenburg, and apart from Scandinavia the company has distribution in about ten different countries on three continents. The latest product we are developing is a series of cutlery that is designed to prevent self-harm and create a safe environment for all users. As a researcher in the field of ICIs, my role as a practitioner in a private company may be seen as at risk for a conflict of interest. Findings may be used as information for product design and lead to “informed products.” However, I cannot point to certain findings that directly have led to commercial product development. I would say that the bigger picture of contribution to the field and commercial sector is basic research. Being in the commercial sector has similarly contributed to my doctoral studies. It is unlikely that I would have gained access to fieldwork at a forensic psychiatric hospital, if the company had not had a design collaboration with them. However, working in the commercial sector while doing academic re- search calls for reflection on any potential bias in research findings in favor of commercial gains. I cannot see bias in this dissertation that would restrain or alter any research findings. 1. Background and Personal Reflections 13 Visiting ICIs, Now and Then I do not believe it would be possible for me to design or do research in this field without fieldwork and knowing a few things about ICIs. I have visited these in- stitutions with an awareness of past visits to friends and family who have been cared for in psychiatric hospitals (though not forensic psychiatric hospitals). Therefore, these places have not been unfamiliar even though I have not expe- rienced them firsthand myself. A Walk in the Park It Was Not… As a child, teenager, and adult, I came to visit patients at a psychiatric hospital in Gothenburg who were family and friends of family. This was during the 1970s, 80s, and 90s. From a child’s perspective, the place was surreal if not at times horrifying. For some reason children were welcome to visit the wards in that era; I cannot recall any visiting rooms. The environment was unfamil- iar and cinematic: there were signals, signs, words, language, and interactions playing out that displayed an atmosphere, a spatial and existentially limited world, that only existed there and then. It was not fully open to me, but my visits to the place opened a door just slightly and created a relationship be- tween me and the place. In 2012, entering through the rigorous security system of a new forensic psychiatric hospital, I register the lack of cigarette stench and gloomy interior that is supposed to be there. Something is not as it should be. It’s another type of place – quiet, clean, light, and free of the characteristic odor of medicated bodies and the indistinct smell of institution. I believe, albeit with a grain of skepticism, that recent decades’ development of architectural and interior de- signs is not solely a cosmetic makeover but does express a shift in values. Eth- ics, architecture, interior design, and care are intertwined and have, as I see it, developed to care for the patient as an individual where their needs, choices, and narratives are in focus: person-centered care. However, there is that grain of skepticism, which will be revealed through the content of this dissertation. At the old hospital, whenever possible, and often it was possible, the visit would expand into the park and café. Outdoors, it was clear who was the patient, staff, or visitor. An automatic decoding of people’s facial expression, 14 1. Background and Personal Reflections clothing, speech, and bodily movement would give away who was who. Still, there was something reassuring about the clarity. From a child’s perspective, the line drawn between the sick and the non-sick created a secure environment. The metaphysical border of the hospital, or rather from the hospital, was a portal of parting, a relieving feeling and action. It began by the car or wait- ing in the bus shelter. The vehicle promised, and afforded, something that was only given to visitors. Leaving meant a clear break and a distancing from the worn-down walls and what was inside them. A stained seat on the bus was so much better than the soiled dark institutional furniture. Leaving the hospital grounds meant freedom and promised air that was free from human odors and cigarette stench. And on the other side of the line, the soundscape of the city communicated a safe distance to the hospital. Having visited a fair number of institutions, I can say that many of the shortcomings of the physical environment listed above have now been con- signed to history. Nevertheless, the socio-materiality that was built into that old hospital’s design needs to be valued as significantly important data of a her- itage that contains knowledge and experience that are crucial to the planning of new psychiatric hospitals. What is built today is layered on top of what was torn down yesterday. Lillhagen Psychiatric Hospital in Gothenburg opened in 1932. It started being phased out in the 1990s, and in 2013 the last ward was relocated. Some of the buildings and premises that date back to the 1930s have been turned into offices, apartments, and a park. 1 Bringing this and similar past experiences into design and fieldwork has some bearing on how my orientation and approach have been shaped in my research and in my design practice. The experience of childhood visits gave bits and pieces of understanding of what it means to be in such a place. Still, societal norms and attitudes to ICIs is something I carry as well. By this I mean that taking field visits with limited knowledge and plenty of preconceived ideas prisons, forensic psychiatric hospitals, and special residential youth homes is something I’ve had to acknowledge and try to suspend in research situations. However, my preunderstanding also needs to be made visible. 1 The now partly demolished Lillhagen Psychiatric Hospital is portrayed in the documentary Lillhagen – hatat och saknat (2014). https://www.svt.se/nyheter/lokalt/vast/dokumentar- om-lillhagen, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ym486YfaWSQ 1. Background and Personal Reflections 15 Although the past is present when meeting ICIs, the context of doing fieldwork as a doctoral student is something else. The remaining layers can trigger different kinds of memories, yet it is an advantage to be in the role of a doctoral student with the borders and structures it offers. The context of the psychiatric hospitals of the past is partly transferable to the three other types of institutions of care and incarcer- ation that are the scope of this dissertation. In the following sections, I will give accounts of my personal reflections from visits to an “ancient” forensic psychiatric hospital, a prison in another cultural and geographical context, and a Swedish special residential youth home by a lake, all during the first period of my studies. A Sunny Prison The first prison I visited during my studies was the Johannesburg Correctional Centre (“Sun City”) in south Johannesburg, South Africa. The ironic epithet comes from the bright lights that illuminate the prison at night, I was told by my cab driver. It’s probably also a sarcastic reference to the (in)famous luxury resort that bears the same name. I was not in Johannesburg to visit Sun City, but rather to attend a re- search conference. A month prior, I had written to the research department at the Department of Correctional Services, and they granted me a visit to the prison. By luck, it turned out, I was not permitted to take photos or film anything inside the prison. Even though the research department had granted me the visit, it was certainly a challenge for me to give the right answers to the prison director, who was skeptical, authoritative, and thorough. When the questioning was over, they had prepared for a prison officer to take me around the building. He gave me a complete tour and enough time to speak with the inmates. I figured the visit would take two hours. It took five. It is a large prison, even by international standards. This was in 2015 and the population of Sun City was at the time 4 800 inmates. They were organized by gender, sentence length, sexual identity, and women with children 0–3 years old. The youngest inmate I met was 16 or 17. The good thing about not being allowed to take photos or film was that I was allowed to bring my sketchbook and a pen. I collected data and sketches throughout the visit. Sketching and talking was met with interest by the inmates. 16 1. Background and Personal Reflections FIGUR E 2 . Talking with a middle-aged man by his bed. It was fairly warm but not uncomfort- able at all. I can’t recall any strong smell either, although there were 48 men living in the large room. There were not that many there during the interview. But there was a lot of sadness and resignation. We were standing up and talking about the circumstances and the stuff. It was a bit rushed, but it felt like a lot got said during those moments. 1. Background and Personal Reflections 17 As at all prisons and ICIs, time moves slowly. A visitor means a break in the monotony of everyday life, but a visitor is also a potential messenger to reach the media or decision makers to convey discontent. The physical environment was strikingly sparse, lacked hygiene facilities, and crowding was bad, especially for the men. Women, young women, and women with babies had somewhat better living conditions, which appears to be a general trend at all ICIs I have visited. Several of the sketches and more on Sun City may be found in Paper II, “‘Sketch and Talk’ – An Ethnographic Design Method Opening Closed Institutions.” The “Ancient” Forensic Psychiatric Hospital Early in my doctoral studies I contacted one of the forensic psychiatric hospi- tals in Sweden to ask if it would be possible to do fieldwork there with the aim of following their ongoing process of designing and building a new hospital. The buildings they were then occupying were from the 1950s. I had gotten to know their project leader in 2013 while designing products for ICIs that they would use in their new facility. They and Rampton Hospital in the UK were an advisory group to inform the design. At this worn Swedish hospital, my initial interest lay in following the process and dialogue between the facility and the architects. My focus then was on the basis for making decisions that would decide the interior design and when those decisions were made. How- ever, after a while my focus shifted to see how I could gain an understanding of what kind of place the hospital was. I started to meet with patients and talk about the interior. I brought my sketchbook and sketched the furniture, stuff, and the spaces we were talking about. I experienced no difficulties in sketching people in their interaction with the physical environment. This way I could work with the sketch to express that there were “real” people with real needs who shared their experiences. During 2014–16 I travelled frequently to the forensic psychiatric hospital, where I usually stayed for two or three days to collect data. Through my field studies, the facility gatekeeper became a friend at whose house I stayed. Talking in the evenings helped me understand what kind of place a forensic hospital is and what it meant to work there. I met with the administration, doctors, psychiatrists, and psychologists. I was “approved” by the gatekeeper, who was respected and appreciated among 18 1. Background and Personal Reflections his colleagues. I believe that facilitated a positive interaction with the group, especially in the lunch and coffee room. They showed interest in my subject, in part because they all were soon to move into their new building. At this ancient hospital, the stories about legendary patients went far back in time. I visualized the type of care that had been used at the turn of the last century and even further back, as well as the mid-twentieth century, when new and effective psychopharmacological drugs came into use. I saw mental images of hot and cold baths, “dungeons,” and spinning chairs. The narratives I heard from senior staff about the history of the hospital, as well as today’s ongoings, conveyed an existential platform of what kind of place it was in the past, in the present, and in the future. Talking to staff, I understood how challenging it could be to care for pa- tients who are extremely violent or smear themselves in feces and throw feces at staff. The corridors of the ward with very sick patients had a thick atmosphere of cautiousness. There were marks on the doors and walls that witnessed in- cidents of pain and violence. By the heavy steel door that led into the ward there was security equipment such as shields, helmets and full body mattress protection, although I was told they were rarely used. There was a door to a patient room that was divided horizontally to allow them to feed and talk to a patient that otherwise would attack them. Carrying these and many other narratives with me has meant that I believe that working conditions for staff can at times be extremely challenging and dangerous. However, I still smile when I think of many of the good conversations I had with the patients, especially those I came to know better. The one-liners were numerous. It was often easy to connect with the patients, not least be- cause we were similar in age and could share music and film references. At the time I was occupied with the question of “home” and” homelike.” Therefore, I asked “XY” (the name he chose for a publication) what he thought of his new room. He had become more ill and had to transfer to a new ward. He told me, “We are not at home, that much is clear!” That was it. There’s quite a lot of stuff in the room and on the walls. While we talk, the ideas of future activities and the present situation are bouncing fast back and forth against the times and stuff in the photos on the wall. It’s hard for me to follow. But we are having a good time. In all I conducted seventeen interviews with patients. Apart from the interviews I spent a lot of time on the wards, “hanging around” and observing. 1. Background and Personal Reflections 19 FIGUR E 3. We meet for at least the third of fourth time. We know each other pretty well now. It’s a new room he’s moved to after the “incident.” It’s much larger, but on a more secure and restricted ward. The room feels old, it has a scent of old institution. Maybe it’s the plastic floor covering or the smell of old cigarette smoke. Hard to pin down, but it’s recognizable. 20 1. Background and Personal Reflections I had great conversations with the staff, especially my friend the gatekeeper. Without the experience from this hospital, it would have been challeng- ing to write Paper I, “Everything but Home, It’s Hell!…” that tells another story from another forensic psychiatric hospital, and even though the data and scope of the paper are from the Rågården forensic psychiatric hospital, the experience from the “ancient one” has been highly important to my un- derstanding of the context. SiS: A “Dry” Place by the Lake In 2017, two research colleagues and I visited a special residential youth home in a rural location in Sweden to discuss if they would be interested in partici- pating in the research project for which we recently had been granted funding by SiS. At this initial point of the research, we visited five SiS homes to discuss participation as we sought to learn as much as possible about the organization and if there was interest in our project. We had decided that we first needed to do a pilot study, since our previous research environments had been very different. We could not know at that point if our choice of methods was suit- able for the incarcerated youths. Of the five SiS homes we visited, three were for males, one had a mixed population, and one was for females. These five facilities differed significantly in their atmosphere, architecture, and interior. Two were significantly worn down, two were well kept, and one was exceptionally well looked after. The latter had its origin in the late nineteenth century and differs from the other 22 SiS homes in that its land and buildings are owned by a trust. It is arranged so that SiS manages the care (staff ) and all matters of the youths’ stay; however, the trust offers both living accommodation and educational space of high qual- ity. Still, our choice for the first study fell on a remote, worn, and “dry” place: it was a former prison (built 1978) (Riksarkivet, 2001) of the type known as a “tork” in Swedish, which is slang for an open prison for alcoholics to “dry out.” The SiS home is located not too far from Gothenburg and provides care to male adolescents 16–21 years old at two wards. For this age group school is not mandatory; however, the majority of the young men did attend the school that was located on the premises. It is rather small and graspable for a SiS home, which was one of the reasons we wished to do our pilot study there. 1. Background and Personal Reflections 21 Like many other SiS homes, it is located in a remote area, close to a lake. The youths went fishing and swimming together with staff. When we researchers later stayed for a week at the SiS home, we would see them go off on bicycles down the hill to the lake, cheering and shouting. Strangely enough, it was an idyllic place despite the carceral framework. The institution’s director and leading staff welcomed us with a posi- tive attitude when we met the first time. They were also openly interested in gaining knowledge about design for the new facility they were planning. In retrospect, it was unclear what say they had regarding decision making that could influence the design. They were not actually owners of the project. All SiS homes are owned by Specialfastigheter, a governmental agency that owns, develops, and manages buildings and land that are leased to divisions of the military, prison services, jails, police, National Courts Administration, the Swedish Migration Board, the Enforcement Authority, and SiS. We un- derstood early that the staff of SiS homes experienced a lack of ownership of their buildings, both the interior and exterior, which we interpreted as causing alienation and frustration. We noticed later that there are different strategies at SiS homes to handle the division between formal ownership and practical ownership. This particular SiS home was one of those places where staff took owner- ship and restored a room that had been trashed or marked with graffiti, while other SiS homes would not do anything without contacting Specialfastigheter. A few SiS homes still have janitors that take care of the buildings and gardens. This one was worn and marked, and the youths’ rooms on one of the wards were actual cells from when it was used as a prison. In spite of its history as a prison, there was a friendly and respectful tone and interaction between the young men and the staff. The positive atmosphere made us feel secure despite the prison environment, the security measures, and not knowing what to ex- pect from the participants. When we were granted permission to do the pilot project, we meticu- lously prepared participant information and informed consent forms for the target group – we thought. However, it became apparent that the level of sim- plification of the language was not sufficient. And when scrutinizing the text, we learned that despite our effort we had not expressed ourselves clearly, and how we presented our methods was overly complicated. I believe that one of the things we learned from our pilot study was how troubled and cognitively 22 1. Background and Personal Reflections challenged the children and adolescents were. We ended up reading the in- formed consent out loud to several of the participants. Youths at SiS homes are strongly overrepresented with reading and writing difficulties (Svensson, 2009). There was something about this environment that was different from many of the other SiS homes where we did fieldwork. Maybe it was the forests and the lakes, or “the horses with horns” (as one of the participants described an elk he had seen). Maybe it was what I would call the “socio-temporal” en- vironment created by the place and the staff. A few staff members were well experienced, even past retirement age. They would give the young men a hug every morning. There was something in their way of acting and in their com- munication with the adolescents that formed an atmosphere of trust and dis- tinctly drawn lines. The staff seemed to always have time to socialize with the young men, and they found a place for it even though there was not much space. Remarkably enough, the youths showed less restlessness and boredom than we had anticipated despite the carceral setting. The pilot study was carried out in the summer of 2017 and is presented in Paper IV, “Designing for Care:…” The methods we used worked well with a few alterations I will come back to later in the text. A common denominator of these three institutions was the worn and somewhat sad interiors that nevertheless were accompanied by warmth between the staff and those cared for. I found this particularly present at the forensic psychiatric hospital and the SiS home. I did not spend enough time at the prison in Johannesburg to have enough empirical material to form a clear impression, but I felt there was a caring attitude there as well, though the atmosphere in different types of wards varied. Also it was my impression that the different freestanding buildings of the older institutions allowed for several levels of security according to the individu- als’ needs and risks. This was most visible in the forensic psychiatric hospital. Al- though my impressions and data paint one type of picture, it is important to see that picture in the context of the background of those cared for and the outcomes of society’s ambition to provide both care and incarceration. 1. Background and Personal Reflections 23 FIGUR E 4. In a special residential youth home. We researchers are talking to a young man (16 years of age) about his previous experiences of SiS homes. There was one that was much better where they had plasma T Vs and PlayStation in their rooms, he says. Before he came here, he tells us, he was on the run for a long time. He’s spent four years in different SiS homes from the age of 12. There is a picture on the wall of his mother. 24 1. Background and Personal Reflections Backgrounds, Facts, and Statistics on the Population of the Three Types of ICIs The questions that this dissertation asks are not answered by facts or statistics; however, these provide important background to reflections in relation to the well-being and life pre-conditions for inmates, patients, and youths. Still, the numbers and facts also say something about society’s system of institutions of care and incarceration. I will present a few facts and statistics regarding the prison system, recidivism, inmate health, educational levels, etc., as well as for forensic psychiatric hospitals and special residential youth homes. What the facts and numbers in the following sections clearly point out is that the group of people in the three types of ICIs do not correspond to the average statistics for the population in general regarding physical health, mental health, neuro-psychiatric diagnoses, employment, or educational levels. The idea of the prison, as it mainly is justified in our time, stands on five pil- lars: retribution, incapacitation, deterrence, rehabilitation, and reparation (U NODC, 2023). In this text, my aim is not to discuss how successful or un- successful the prison system is in achieving its aims. Still, how society frames and justifies the prison system cannot be irrelevant to the understanding of the prison as a place of everyday lived experiences. When designing for prisons and ICIs, it matters whether any of the above-mentioned pillars are more prominent than the others. Consider re- moving the two last pillars and you will have a prison system based on “ret- ribution, incapacitation, deterrence.” A similar reflection can be applied to the special residential youth homes and the forensic psychiatric hospitals, although there is a sliding scale between the focus on care of the former in relation to the prison. Nevertheless, the Swedish Prison and Probation Service states, “Our vision is that spending time in the prison and proba- tion system will bring about change, not simply provide secure custody” 2 (Kriminalvården, 2022b). Facts and statistics can give a background to ICIs and their inhabi- tants. The fourth pillar given above is “rehabilitation”: if the care is success- ful, the recidivism rates should be low. The Scandinavian countries stand out 2 Translation from Swedish to English by the author. 1. Background and Personal Reflections 25 internationally with low rates of recidivism. Norway, Island, and Denmark in particular are used as examples of well-functioning prison systems with effec- tive rehabilitation programs. Sweden’s rates are the highest among the Scandi- navian countries. However, it seems there are difficulties measuring variables and underlying causes for recidivism rates due to a lack of homogenic data (Fazel & Wolf, 2015; Yukhnenko et al., 2020). According to Kristoffersen (2013), the constitution of the offender groups and national differences in sentencing to prison, probation, or fines are factors that make comparison extremely difficult. The Swedish National Council for Crime Prevention (BRÅ, 2021) re- ports recidivism for the population of offenders that have been sentenced to prison, forensic psychiatric hospital, or SiS home (LSU) who were re- leased in 2018. The numbers show that 21 % of the offenders committed a crime within a year. This does not mean that they were reincarcerated, only that they were convicted. Prevalent factors that determine increased risk for recidivism, according to BRÅ, include: prior convictions, drug abuse, sex crimes (male), theft, and narcotics, as well as young age. Criminality tends to decrease with age, and certain crimes such as sex crimes and murder have low reoffending rates among an aging population. Young offenders who were 15–17 year old at the time of the crime have a recidivism rate of 48 % within a year, and within three years 60 % of the young offenders were convicted again (Pettersson, 2009). From an international perspective, the Scandinavian countries have a low prison incarceration rate. Of a population of 100 000 Sweden incarcerates 74, Denmark 72, Norway 56, and Finland 51 (data 2022, World Prison Brief ). The average prison population rate in Europe (except Russia and Turkey, 253) is 73, the UK (England and Wales) 140 (data 2021). The United States has the highest incarceration rate internationally, 2,1 million prisoners, or 629 per 100 000 (data 2021). In 2019 the rate per 100 000 was: Black Americans 2 724, Latinx 1 091, white 261 (Project, 2021). This means that there is a severe overrepresentation of Black and Latinx people relative to the composition of the general population in USA. A prison population consists of several differ- ent nationalities. In Sweden, the majority of the prison population consists of Swedish citizens (71 %), followed by citizens from outside of Europe (14 %), Europe (10 %), and the Nordic countries (5 %). Of the Swedish population in general, 8.7 % have citizenship other than Swedish (SCB, 2021b). 26 1. Background and Personal Reflections Are there certain groups of the population that are incarcerated? I will use the numbers from a report by the Swedish Prison and Probation Service to ex- emplify the background of prisoners (the report is comprehensive but somewhat dated, the statistics are for 2013). The vast majority (93 %) are male, and 24 % were convicted due to crime related to narcotics, 21 % to violence, and 13 % to theft. The average age is 38, and 40 % of the prisoners have served a prison sentence earlier, while two-thirds have been charged with a crime (Kriminalvården, 2014). The employment rate of the prisoners in Sweden before they were con- victed was 27 %, 9 % were certified ill, and 9 % were on pension. The majority (56 %) lived alone without children, 37 % had children under 18 years, and 20 % were homeless. Education levels were low: 47 % did not have an educa- tion that exceeded the nine compulsory years of school in Sweden (Krimi- nalvården, 2014) . In comparison, only 11 % of the general population lack education beyond compulsory school (SCB, 2021a). Substance abuse (narcotics and/or alcohol) was dominant (70 %), and both somatic and psychiatric health status was substantially lower than the population in general. Among prisoners, 12 % had been under inpatient care for somatic illness – mainly muscular illnesses, including back pain. Close to 25 % had been given outpatient psychiatric care and 4 % psychiatric inpatient care. Almost 44 % had been given a psychiatric diagnosis by the Swedish Prison and Probation Service during their imprisonment, whereof 25 % with A DHD (Grip & Svensk, 2022). Of the clients that were between 18 and 21 years of age, 38 % had been given a psychiatric diagnosis during their imprisonment, whereof 11 % with A DHD. The majority of the young adults (60 %) did not have more than the nine compulsory years of school, and 16 % had no complete education at all. The numbers regarding the female prisoners were roughly the same as those given above, with the exception of psychiatric health and nationality. Of the women, 85 % were Swedish, 6 % European, 5 % Nordic, and 5 % from outside Europe. Substance abuse was more or less the same as for men: 67 %. 50 % of the women had been given outpatient psychiatric care, and 8 % received psychiatric inpatient care. A majority of the women (58 %) had been given a psychiatric diagnosis by the Swedish Prison and Probation Service during the imprisonment, whereof 15 % with A DHD. Among the women, 42 % had children under 18 years of age, which was 5 % higher than for the male pop- ulation (Kriminalvården, 2014). 1. Background and Personal Reflections 27 Prisoners with a record of earlier compulsory care at HV B (residential care homes) or SiS homes are overly represented compared to the population in general. 14 % of the prison population had been incarcerated under the LV U or LSU act (Kriminalvården, 2014). Predictive and underlying factors for a life with criminality, according to the criminologists Sarnecki and Carlsson (Höjer, 2013), include a family history of criminality and absent parents. Other factors are poor economy, low standard of living, trouble in school, and poor academic performance. In other words, crime and socioeconomics are inseparable; however, Sarnecki and Carlsson point out that “life cannot be reduced to the environment you are brought up in,” and the accuracy is not high for predicting who will be- come a criminal. They also note that one of the overlooked factors that lead to criminal behavior is the excitement and fun that is connected with crime, at least among youths. But when they reach their 30s and 40s, the criminal life starts to wear on people. Criminality is a lifestyle that brings premature death, commonly from suicide, disease, overdose, violence, and accidents. So what kind of picture do these facts and statistics paint of prisoners, forensic patients, and SiS youths? They actually say very little about who the person is; instead, they describe levels of education, psychiatric illness, sub- stance abuse, previous crimes or illnesses, nationality, and a few other factors. However, as a designer I need to know something about those I am designing for, and these are a few of several angles I can find information on. It is import- ant to remember that that all these individuals do not form a homogenous group, though for many of them the physical environment needs to offer cer- tain specific supportive functions, while also mitigating certain elements of the environment that might otherwise increase ill-being for people with, for example, autism or substance abuse. Prisons Prisons in Sweden had a population of 5 300 in prison and 2 500 in jail in 2021. This was an increase of 400 clients in prison and 500 in jail compared to the previous year, 2020. The occupancy rate in Swedish prisons in 2021 was 109 % (Kriminalvården, 2022a). The Swedish prisons are structured into three security classes. Security class 1 represents the maximum security level and 3 the lowest security level. The classification is based on the security measures imposed to prevent escape 28 1. Background and Personal Reflections with or without aid from outside, continued crime, abuse, and other miscon- duct. The Swedish Prison and Probation Service reports that its capacity to maintain security (i.e. dynamic security) was successful during 2021 despite increased occupancy rates and the challenge of Covid restrictions. The high occupancy rate led Krimprod (the production company within the prison and probation services where clients work) to produce bunkbeds so that two cli- ents can share a cell. The prison service believes that the crowding and Covid restrictions have contributed to an increased number of reported incidents of threats, violence, and abuse towards staff. Violence between inmates increased during 2021 and 2020 compared to 2019, this due to overcrowding according to the Swedish Prison and Probation Service’s report for 2021. There were no escapes from prisons or jails in 2021 (Kriminalvården, 2021). Furthermore, the Swedish Prison and Probation Service reported 714 incidents of threat against staff and 198 violent incidents against staff that occurred in jails, as well as 108 threats and 58 violent incidents between cli- ents. There were 792 threats and 219 acts of violence against staff in prisons and 524 threats and 537 violent incidents between clients (Kriminalvården, 2022a). Now these figures do not say much about the nature or severity of the incidents, whether the numbers should be regarded as high, how an “incident” is defined, or the frequency of staff reporting incidents. Nevertheless, there is no reason to neglect the intrinsic risk to life and health in prisons and jails for both staff and clients. Naturally this calls for security measures, a need that is only exacerbated by crowding and high social density. 3 The Swedish Prison and Probation Service states that it has a zero tolerance policy for all violations of security. This means no escapes, no drugs, no criminal activities, no violence, and no threats or harassment are accepted either against employees, between inmates, or between clients in probation (Kriminalvården, 2022a). Such a goal demands not only surveillance and a high level of interper- sonal control by staff but also a physical environment that can meet all imaginable spatial and relational situations that would allow any of the above-mentioned unwanted actions. However, it is important to remember that many clients 3 Social density can be defined as “density that can be changed by altering the number of individuals per given unit of space. Social density is a major determinant of crowding, and there is evidence that it has a more powerful effect on human response than spatial density.” It is also “the number of interpersonal interactions that are likely to occur in a given spaceism.” https://dictionary.apa.org/social-density 1. Background and Personal Reflections 29 have a history of drug abuse and that the sense of well-being among clients in prisons is low according to self-evaluation tests. Moreover, the number of clients with psychiatric problems , comorbidity, personality disorders, and de- pression is much higher than among the general population (ADHD 2–4 %) (Ginsberg et al., 2010; Grip & Svensk, 2022). The Swedish government that came into power in September 2022 has decided in an agreement among its four constituent parties, the so called “Tidöavtalet,” to implement several repressive changes against lawbreakers. For instance, it criminalizes gang membership, doubles sentences for gang members, and lowers the threshold for crimes that demand detention. With these longer sentences, there is a call for a rapid expansion of prisons and jails in the near future. Forensic Psychiatric Hospitals The individuals in care at Swedish forensic psychiatric hospitals have been sentenced by a court to psychiatric care. Persons who suffer from grave mental illness and have committed a serious crime under the influence of the illness can be sentenced to forensic psychiatric care according to the Law on Forensic Psy- chiatric Care (“Lagen om rättspsykiatrisk vård,” LRV) 1991:1129. In contrast to prison sentencing, most psychiatric patients confined to care do not have a limited sentence time. That means, in most cases, that the patient’s illness and risk of recidivism will be evaluated every six months until the patient is assessed to be well enough to function in society. Apart from patients that have com- mitted crimes, forensic psychiatric hospitals provide care for people who are detained or serving a sentence at prisons or jails, youths cared for at SiS facil- ities, and clients who are detained by the migration services. A total of 1 924 4 patients were in care in 2021, of which 1 639 were men and 285 women. Forensic psychiatric hospital care systems and judicial systems appear to differ slightly from country to country. The Scandinavian countries and the UK have similar systems, as does the United States, although its systems differ from state to state. The median time in care is 5 years. However, I have met patients who have been in forensic psychiatric care for over 20 years. Individuals who are sentenced to forensic psychiatric care tend to receive more years in care for 4 https://sdb.socialstyrelsen.se/if_tvangsvard/resultat.aspx 30 1. Background and Personal Reflections similar crimes than individuals who are sentenced to prison (Belfrage, 1996). Adolescents under 18 years of age are usually not sentenced to forensic psy- chiatric hospitals; however, recently a 15-year-old boy who had committed a serious crime was sentenced to care (TT, 2022). The large majority (90 %) of patients come with a history of psychiatric care. Schizophrenia is the most common diagnosis (55 % of the men and 43 % of the women). Moreover, oral health is low, although the Helix forensic psy- chiatric hospital in Huddinge, Stockholm has invested in its own dental clinic. A large group (71 %) of the patients have a history of drug abuse. In general, patients suffer from low somatic health, with common health problems in- cluding diabetes and cardiovascular diseases (Register, 2022). In Sweden, six 5 new forensic psychiatric hospitals have been built since 2011. Compared to the new prisons and special residential youth homes, the design approach is better adapted to the users (patients and staff ), in my opin- ion, and appears to be appreciated by them as well (Olausson et al., 2018). The design briefs that were given to architects by each region have led in sev- eral cases to original and diverse design approaches (Andersson et al., 2013; Caldenby et al., 2017). Nevertheless, there are several design factors that can be critically discussed, not least the overall materialization and organization of security and the concept of one single building instead of several freestand- ing buildings with diverse security levels. Still, in my view forensic psychiatric hospitals’ designs are superior to those of youth homes and prisons. A crucial difference between special residential youth homes and prisons is the organization of ownership: forensic psychiatric hospitals are regionally governed, while SiS and Swedish Prison and Probation Service facilities are owned and administrated nationally (during our field studies, the research team has observed how the lack of ownership created alienation between the physical environment and the users. Lacking ownership of one’s work environ- ment, literally and figuratively, has both practical and emotional implications.) Forensic psychiatric hospitals are designed for care, whereas this is questionable among special residential homes and prisons. These ICIs lack 5 New freestanding forensic psychiatric hospital and clinics in Sweden since 2011: Brinkåsen in Vänersborg, Helix in Huddinge Stockholm, Rågården in Gothenburg, Rättspsykiatriskt Centrum in Trelleborg, Rättspsykiatri Västmanland in Sala, Rättspsykiatri Regionkliniken in Vadstena, and the Rättspsykiatriavdelning Falköping at Skaraborgs Sjukhus. 1. Background and Personal Reflections 31 adaptation to their users, a humanistic approach, and vision. Nevertheless, from a strictly economic point of view it is hard to imagine that every Swedish crown invested in special residential youth homes would not be paid back if Specialfastigheter and the Swedish Prison and Probation Service had the kind of vision and funding for them that support forensic psychiatric hospitals. SiS’s Special Residential Youth Homes The Swedish National Board of Institutional Care (Statens institutionsstyrelse, or SiS) administers special residential youth homes (SiS homes) for young people (aged 12–21, but sometimes as young as 9). In 2023, SiS operates 21 homes throughout Sweden. SiS describes its vision as “a place for change” and its mission as providing “better conditions for a socially functioning life with- out drug abuse and crime” (Statens institutionsstyrelse, 2021d). The recidi- vism numbers are high: in a study from 2009, 68 % of the youth (ages 15–17) received a new sentence within 3 years (Petterson, 2009). Sweden rarely sentences minors (ages 15–17) to prison, therefore there are no youth prisons in Sweden, although there appears to be a political will to investigate the possibility for the prison service to care for youths (“Unga kriminella borde sitta i ungdomsfängelse,” 2022). However, the wards at SiS that care for youths who are sentenced to LSU (the Secure Youth Care Act) have a high level of security that is not very different from prisons. The age of criminal responsibility in Sweden is 15. As a comparison, children from 10 years of age in England are criminally responsible and can be sent to so-called “special secure centers” (Gov.UK, 2023). In the US, close to 50 % of the states have no age restriction of criminal responsibility, whereas in 26 states that age ranges between 7 and 13 years (Network, 2023). Youth in the US are mainly held in juvenile detention centers. In Norway there are two youth prisons with 8 beds for youth 15–18 years old. Norway’s “Barnev- ernsinstitusjoner” (youth care institutions) are similar to Sweden’s special residential youth homes and HV B homes. The compulsory care that is given to children and adolescents is governed by the terms of the Care of Young Persons (Special Provisions) Act (LV U). The decision to place individuals in such facilities is conducted by the social services through the administrative court when the individual’s behavior is a threat to themselves or others and all other care options have failed. Young individuals who have committed serious crimes are sentenced by court under 32 1. Background and Personal Reflections the Secure Youth Care Act (LSU) and tend to be in the upper range of age, with a maximum sentence of four years. The SiS homes are divided into two categories: those with children and adolescents who are still under compul- sory schooling (ages 12–16) and those who are not (17–21). All SiS homes have schools on their premises. The older individuals are not obliged to study, but the majority do so. Both groups are challenged by learning disabilities and incomplete education. SiS homes are commonly not gender mixed; in the few that are, the different genders live in separate buildings (Statens in- stitutionsstyrelse, 2021a). In 2021 and 2020 there were several serious escapes, one of the reasons two SiS homes were converted into high security units specifically for youths held under the LSU act. Reinforced security measures are being implemented at all SiS homes. SiS has found an increased capacity for violence among the youths in care and has identified the need for an internal organization that can handle security threats and collaborate with other authorities (Statens institutionsstyrelse, 2021d). SiS stresses that young girls under care experience a high level of feeling insecure, and several measures have been taken to increase their security. One Sis home for girls was shut down in 2020 due to incidents between staff and girls (Statens institutionsstyrelse, 2021a). Also, several children and adoles- cents need specialized psychiatric care, but their needs are not met by the chil- dren’s psychiatric hospitals due to the inability of the hospitals to treat them properly. The need for psychiatric care has doubled between 2006 and 2016 (Statens institutionsstyrelse, 2021b). SiS does not have the financial or medical resources to meet their needs, which is one of the reasons behind the current establishment of so-called specially reinforced departments (SFA) (Statens in- stitutionsstyrelse, 2021a). Furthermore, in a recent report by the Health and Social Care Inspectorate (IVO) (IVO, 2023), it was found that 50 % or more of the children and adolescents have been diagnosed with A DHD. Trauma and stress related syndromes are common as well: 14 % for males and 37 % for females. 5 % of the children and adolescents have intellectual disabilities. Lastly, self-harm is known to be frequent among females (9 %), but the num- ber of young males who self-harm is growing (4 %). Apart from its special residential youth homes, SiS operates so-called “LV M homes,” where adults with serious substance abuse are treated. This compulsory care is provided under the Care of Substance Abusers (Special 1. Background and Personal Reflections 33 Provisions) Act (LV M). There are 11 LV M homes with a total of 400 beds. All information is gathered from the SiS’s 2020 annual report (Statens insti- tutionsstyrelse, 2021a). SiS is continuously striving to improve its buildings. Many of them are beyond restoration and do not meet the need for a safe and appropriate care environment. 62 % of the rooms they administer are considered beyond their expected life span, as they are 50 years or older. Furthermore, several build- ings do not meet the standards for work environments or fire regulations. However, it is not clear if they will receive sufficient funding to both update their work environments and security and improve the quality of care for the coming years (Statens institutionsstyrelse, 2021b). SiS’s mission of caring for young offenders may change in the coming years. In the so-called “Tidöavtalet,” the current government stated its in- tention to implement several repressive changes against criminal youth. The agreement states that “seriously” criminal youth shall be transferred from re- gional social services to the prison services. Furthermore, youth prisons are to replace special residential youth homes for youth that are under the act of LSU. Youths who turn 18 while serving a sentence are to be transferred to adult prison to serve their remaining time (Sverigedemokraterna et al., 2022). The facts and statistics cited above show two things clearly. First, people in ICIs arrive with a history of lower quality of life and suffer from a range of mental health problems. They also lack several factors that are known to be preventive of crime, such as higher education, employment, and a sense of belonging ( family), compared to the general population. Second, the institutions face enormous chal- lenges for the near future: the increasing trend of longer sentences, lower thresh- olds for criminal charges, higher thresholds for individuals who may be sentenced to forensic psychiatric care (i.e., they will be sentenced to prison instead), and a problematic and highly criticized situation for children and adolescents in the special residential youth homes. Important to note is that 14 % of the population in prisons have previously been cared for at SiS. I do not have any statistics on the connection between pa- tients at forensic psychiatric hospitals and their history of care at SiS. The two issues noted above pose questions about the coming and pres- ent challenges. It is questionable if a more repressive design based on security will be sufficient to allow the agencies to reach their goals of (re)habilitation. 34 1. Background and Personal Reflections In the next chapter I will discuss the challenges for design, the practice of design, and the background of design methods that will be important to consider. But I will also suggest an alternative approach. 35 2. Design and Stuff This chapter initially discusses the importance of acknowledging material “stuff ” as matter beyond the discourse that relates to material consumerism and suggests that ordinary everyday stuff has an ontological significance, specifically in ICIs. Furthermore, it will discuss traditional ways of approaching a design problem and discuss why these methods are difficult to apply to ICIs. This includes a discussion of the importance of slowing down and asking simple questions instead of desper- ately trying to define the right design method. Thereafter I propose to bring back the term and theory of “wicked problems” in order to shed light on the designer’s dilemma when designing for ICIs. Defining design is an elaborate exercise. Design can be understood in abun- dance of different ways – as a discipline, a research field, a general term of planning, an educational subject, an attribute, and not least the literal un- derstanding of design as “the art or process of deciding how something will look, work, etc. by drawing plans, making models, etc.” (Dictionary, 2018). The latter definition relates specifically to the designer’s practice of designing stuff. However, stuff does not end with the designer’s final design. Stuff actu- ally begins after production when it is finally in the hands of somebody. To be able to design meaningful stuff, we need to acknowledge the meaning of the word stuff, and go backwards from there to the design problem, similarly to what Dorst (2019) defines as “reverse designing.” The word stuff is used in this dissertation in a broad sense that refers to objects that are not necessarily more than knick-knacks but considers them as important as any artifacts, objects, commodities, products, or things. Stuff can be understood as a network of things that are unquestionably part of what it is to be human. Stuff is not superficial or necessarily linked to mass consumption but has an ontological and epistemological meaning. By placing stuff in a hi- erarchical order in which the term is the last in the line of “artifacts, objects, commodities, products, things, and stuff,” my intention is to challenge precon- ceptions – e.g., the term artifact is a somewhat status-driven term that suggests 36 2. Design and Stuff that certain manmade objects are more valuable than others. Are the processes and material or immaterial critical objects that challenge the antiquated idea that design is mass-produced material knick-knacks the finest “artifacts”? The way anthropologist Daniel Miller (2010) defines stuff is contrary to the common conception of stuff as superficial. Miller points out that the puritan and non-materialistic view of physical objects as superficial coverings of our inner selves is a naïve idea. Miller discusses, for instance, how fashion, both historically and at present, often is regarded as the outer layers of an onion the purpose of which is to conceal the inner layers of the self. Understanding clothing as a semiotic sign of “who we really are” is no longer relevant, accord- ing to Miller. It is outdated to consider semiotics as the key to understanding “who people are.” “The idea that stuff somehow drains away our humanity, as we dissolve into a sticky mess of plastic and other commodities, is really an at- tempt to retain a rather simplistic and false view of pure and prior unsullied hu- manity” (Prologue: My Life as an Extremist). Miller’s fieldwork proves instead that “the clothes were not superficial, they actually were what made us what we think we are” (Miller, 2010, 1 Why Clothing Is Not Superficial, section). From the experience of the research done during the years of my doctoral studies, I strongly believe that stuff in the context of ICIs is an ontological issue. Particularly in the SiS research project, stuff like clothes, makeup, and photos are strong agents in making everyday life bearable. Stuff is not some- thing that obscures our “true inner selves,” but rather a friendly companion in being who we are. For the discourse in the design field, it may be modest to consider how people with a lot of cheap and affordable stuff are perceived. (Is it “He who dies with the most toys wins,” or “He who dies with the most toys loses”?) How much does our material world define us? A single chair is all you need to decode somebody’s identity, writes anthropologist Witold Rybczynski (1988), draw- ing a connecting line between personal belongings and who we are. Initially I found this very smart, and I still do. However, I felt troubled when reflecting on my meeting with Nina with this quote in mind. I realized that the resources available to her for creating a representation of herself were not only utterly limited, they were also devoid of status. So, if the cell’s stage sets, in Rybczynski’s logic, were to express Nina’s true self to a visitor, how would she be perceived? Luckily, it is possible to turn to the anthropologist Daniel Miller instead and 2. Design and Stuff 37 reflect on what effect the lack of identity-making stuff can have on a person. Yet Nina’s strategies, creativity, and negotiations might have compensated for that lack to some degree to maintain the self: fabric softeners, paper, photos, a scarf – in other words, she had a lot of stuff. Somewhere in the discourse between stuff and anti-materialism/the design community/design-oriented media there is a dissonance of disconnection that I find troubling. Intentionally or not, it identifies a certain group of consumers with limited economic and educational capital who cannot afford to choose products with high technical quality and status, and who thus cannot contribute to a less materialistic, sustainable society. The Linear Design Process The focus on inventing and elucidating design processes is a significant cur- rent in design theory. For example, Lawson (2006) states in the introduction of the renowned book How Designers Think, “In fact we shall not be much concerned directly with the end product of design” (p. 3). While Lawson ad- vocated that too much focus was being given to the object at that time, the pendulum has now shifted. The field of design research, and specifically product design research, has lately focused more on discussing and developing design processes (Bak-Andersen, 2021; Cross, 1982) and less on the resulting stuff. However, I am not suggesting that design theory of process is unneeded; my point is rather to focus on what we create rather than how we create it, on how the what is experienced, and, most importantly, on meaning the what creates. “Things and humans are interconnected in that we cannot consider what it is to be human without things” (Wakkary, 2021, p. 16). However, design processes have traditionally followed a sequence that begins with understanding the brief and the users involved, then defining the problem, collecting data, analyzing and synthesizing data, generating designs based on those findings and informed by artistic skill, then making prototypes, which lead to evaluation and iteration, and finally to a design proposal. The last step in the sequence is a product that will be evaluated again after its pro- duction (Cross, 2007, pp. 33–38; Österlin, 2010; SV ID, 2017). 6 6 SV ID, Stiftelsen Svensk Industridesign, https://svid.se/guider-och-verktyg/ designprocessguiden/ 38 2. Design and Stuff Design problems in general are not to be interpreted like ordinary every- day problems. Formulating design problems is a methodological approach that is meant to lead to the identification of a solution. Defining the problem is a first step, but also reoccurring one meant to create framing and reflection that allows the designer to move forward (Cross, 2007, p. 80). The idea that there is a correct or absolute design process originates from theories of the 1960s intended to give design the status of a scientific practice (Cross, 2007). The design process below (Figure 5) suggests such a step-by-step process to identify the “right solution” (product) by using the “right” process (the model is a version of the “double diamond”). FIGU R E 5. SV I D, Stiftelsen Svensk Industridesign (the Association for Swedish Industrial Design). Design process model in which the steps from left to right read: challenge/current state, understand, define, question to develop, ideation, prototyping, test, solution/new state. The left section at the bottom of the model says, “Find the right challenge”, the right section says, “Develop the right solution.” 7 However, this type of process has long been challenged and is the subject of an ongoing, endless discussion (Cross, 2011; Lawson, 2006). The problem with the model’s linear structure is that it suggests that design is a step-by- step process, not an iterative or circular one, and that it neglects the fact that design processes are based on “…ill-defined ‘wicked’ problems which are so characteristic of design” (Bak-Andersen, 2021, 1 Sustainability and making, section; Lawson, 2006, p. 137). 7 UR L: https://svid.se/guider-och-verktyg/designprocessguiden/ 2. Design and Stuff 39 Yet, in my view, the focus on finding the “right solution” to a problem risks overshadowing what kind of object we are designing and its cocreation of ontological meaning. This is discussed by Wendt (2015), who questions the idea of step-by-step design process. He opposes the process by stating, “The issue, I believe, is that designers have become much too reliant on case studies, recipe books, and step-by-step guides that are decontextualized from the individual designer” (E-Book, p. 20). What Wendt suggests, and I agree, is that the experience of the designed product is not sufficiently evaluated or recognized as an intrinsic part of design. Challenges of Designing With As opposed to linear, “one designer” processes, more democratic and open- ended design methodologies such as user-centered design (UCD) (Services., 2021; Triberti & Riva, 2016) and participatory design (PD) (Simonsen & Robertson, 2012) have unequivocally influenced how designers work today. UCD and PD invite the user group to engage in a cooperative process for defining the problem and finding solutions to it. For instance, Don A. Nor- man (2002) advocated in the 1980s for the importance of bringing the user’s perspective into design. Norman’s point was that design was too far removed from the user’s needs and that the interface between the user and the product had become unnecessarily complicated. He states that for the design of ev- eryday objects, not least computers and systems, design should “make it easy to determine what actions are possible at any moment” (p. 188). To enable self-explanatory interfaces, Norman argued that the designer needs to put the user in the center, hence the process of user-centered design (UCD). The development of UCD and PD has its roots in the 1960s and 70s and was part of a political movement to improve workers’ rights and to em- power them. Designing with rather than for the users was done through shared learning between the designer and the user and by acknowledging the work- ers’ specific skills and needs (Barab et al., 2004, p. 75; Göransdotter, 2020). From UCD and PD there has been further development toward processes such as experience-based design (EBD) and “co-design” (Fuad-Luke, 2009). These processes point to the user’s experience and suggest bringing the users into full participation in the design of the product. However, these latter 40 2. Design and Stuff terms, as suggested by Sanders and Stappers (2008), should be understood more as a semantic cover than as distinct from the original terms (UCD, PD). A user-centered design process is at first glance a sound and ethical way to design objects for any group of users, as it is primarily oriented towards those who will interact with the designed object – the primary users. The aim of such a process is generally to solve a real problem, such as aiding a person with a physical disability. Still, when users are either involved directly in the process, as in participatory design, or are subject to the designer’s method of collecting data, e.g. through ethnographic methods, there needs to be an approach/attitude that looks for aspects other than direct interpretations of participants’ actions, opinions, and preferences. In my view, this is where the designer’s experience and knowledge enter to ensure that the product is sustainable, meaning that the product has technical and semiotic qualities, is functional (lives up to expectations), and is socially and ecologically sustain- able. For the last of these, it is as important that the designer has a deep and embodied knowledge of materials and technique as that he or she is knowl- edgeable in “smart” processes to design for sustainability (Bak-A ndersen, 2021). However, when involving users in the design process, and specifically vulnerable groups, there are ethical challenges. Questions are raised as to who actually holds the power to initiate and run a PD process. Similarly, there are issues of ownership, unequal power between participants and researchers, the initiator’s advantage, and economic differences and prerequisites (Kraff, 2020; Thinyane et al., 2020). From her own experience, Kraff (2018) suggests several measures to take for a more just participatory design process and as- serts the need to “discuss issues of inequalities within the project, why they exist and what they lead to” (p. 123). There are pitfalls in PD, even though the democratic attempt is just. Moreover, in participatory design projects the participants are commonly invited to join the project by the project leaders. Inevitably, the choice of participants and how they are invited raises doubts as to the democratic selection of the group (Göransdotter, 2020, p. 74). It is tempting to think that participatory design processes would be a natural choice when designing for ICIs. Empowering vulnerable groups with tools that convey agency through a democratic and ethical process acknowl- edges the experts’ (the users’) superior knowledge of their own needs and experiences and can reveal explicit and implicit power structures (Bannon & Ehn, 2013). A participatory design process with users will naturally need 2. Design and Stuff 41 a definition of who the users are (patients, inmates, youths, staff, visitors?); however, this is an issue I will return to later in this chapter. Nonetheless, due to security issues and the vulnerability of the user group, certain aspects of UCD or PD design processes are difficult to meet. As Brad- ley (2021) acknowledges, bringing inmates into the design of a prison “will always be in tension with the needs of safety and function” (p. 41). There are other challenges as well. The repressive and security-dominated systems of many ICIs are in stark contrast to the emancipatory and empowering dimen- sions of participatory design, regardless of its extent – e.g., formulating a brief or a minor design project. It is important to remember that ICIs are closed institutions where all interventions by external parties are non-negotiable. Still, there is no need to believe that design for ICIs becomes undemo- cratic or exclusive by default due to the lack of participatory design processes. However, if the participation and sharing of knowledge and experience from inmates, patients, and youths is excluded (intentionally or unintentionally), there is a fair chance that their environment will become less inclusive, less ergonomic, less intuitive, less safe, and less conducive to healing. Therefore, caution is needed to balance power relations in a design process and to adapt other methods to bring in user’s lived experience and design input. I propose that for ICIs where patients, clients, and youths who are cared for under the extreme circumstance of incarceration, we need to go somewhere other than where many design methods lead us. Are there specific needs this group may have, and why? Can their needs be catered to in any other way than how it is commonly done? But most importantly, what kind of meaning does the interior design intend to produce for the users? Furthermore, when we engage with the users in their context, we need to find out things on an existential and ontological level by acknowledging that stuff influences the way we act, think, and experience our life. When we study the design “prob- lem” – i.e., the different aspects of something that needs change – we need to consider a number of aspects to both well-being and pain, not least since we have the opportunity to step aside and maintain an open attitude to what we experience as designers in practice and research. To be able to share knowledge between designers and users, there needs to be communication through both spoken language and practice. Ehn (1988) summarizes the ontological dimension of shared practice and knowledge as a social activity: “To share practice is also to share understanding of the world 42 2. Design and Stuff with others.” Design is always an interaction and a co-working practice. De- signed objects do not exist in isolation, and ideas do not immaterialize. “Things are not carved out of human relations, but rather out of socio-material collec- tives of humans and nonhumans, through which the objects of concern are handled” (Binder et al., 2012). However, it takes a specific experience and knowledge to design. Cross (2007, pp. 26–27) discusses the concept of “de- signerly ways of knowing” – i.e., how the specific knowledge of a designer is not only focused on the process of designing, it is also a specific knowledge of “reading” and “writing” material culture. Actually Slowing Down We can ask the simple question, “What is going on?” The question, however, might imply that we are looking for a descriptive account of different actions, needs, and solutions for problems. Therefore, we will instead benefit from ask- ing, “What is actually going on?” Adding actually may sound as simplistic as following a process map to find the right solution. However, if we understand the “actually” as a cue to consider that there is more to it than we see from our ordinary horizon of experience and knowledge, and set aside how we com- monly approach design problems, the ”actually” can give us the opportunity to restrain ourselves and to set aside time for another type of inquiry. This can reveal unseen solutions and unusual problem formulations and briefs, specif- ically in contexts where established solutions “actually” fail. I would like to il- lustrate what it means to “set aside time” and to dwell on phenomena with a short quotation of Guy de Maupassant, who in the role of Flaubert’s disciple gives account of what his master teaches him (cited in Steegmuller, 1949, p. 61): When you pass a grocer sitting in his doorway,” he used to tell me, “or a concierge smoking his pipe, or a cab-stand, show me that grocer and that concierge, the way they are sitting or standing, their entire physical appearance, making it by the skillfulness of your portrayal embody all their moral nature as well, so that I cannot confuse them with any other grocer or any other concierge; and make me see, by means of a single word, wherein one cab-horse does not resemble the fifty others ahead of it or behind it. I believe that slowing down the urge to go for “the” solution is one of the skills that often is recognized as a designer’s intuition. Following Lawson (2006, 2. Design and Stuff 43 p. 212), experienced designers possess, among several abilities, the skill to cognitively work with parallel thoughts and go between detail and the gen- eral. Intuition is not a gut feeling or a strike of amazing inspiration, but a set of experiences that are set in motion consciously or subconsciously (Cross, 2007; Lundin, 2015). Therefore, an experienced designer can use their bank of knowledge, learnings, and solutions to advance a design proposal rapidly, which can be interpreted from an outside perspective as intuition or inspi- ration. This “designerly” knowledge is extremely difficult to pin down in a model or to share in text, which contributes to mystery that envelops the design profession. However, such accumulated tacit knowledge needs to be acknowledged to understand the process of design. Nevertheless, what I want to propose is not contrary to what several scholars suggest. I agree with Law- son, Cross, and others that design process models are difficult to use and not adapted for “wicked problems.” What I want to propose, though, is the impor- tance of slowing down parts of the design process to leave time for “actually.” Design Dilemmas and Wicked Problems Designing for ICIs is neither a transparent nor a “tame” task. Even if the cli- ent who is commissioning a project has a solid structured organization and leadership that is consistent and committed, they will still need to deal with the inherent messiness of any project that rests on the contradiction between incarceration and care. In such a project, the number of stakeholders and interrelationships among them usually creates confusion for the designer: it may not be clear who is in the driver’s seat of the project or who is in charge of the final decisions. Rarely are the project leaders and the decision makers the same people (this problem is not unique ICIs, but it does not facilitate clarity). For clarity, the many stakeholders need to be identified, yet this will tentatively contribute to the project’s complexity and messiness, since map- ping the stakeholders will most likely identify a much wider range of persons, organizations, and entities than first anticipated. Stakeholders can include users, secondary users (e.g., family and friends), staff, administration, manage- ment, governmental agencies, society at large, etc. The stakeholders’ internal hierarchy is rarely transparent (Kroes et al., 2008, p. 11), which will cost time and unnecessary iterations to the design work. Furthermore, an ill-defined 44 2. Design and Stuff structure of stakeholders’ power relations will pose further questions of equal- ity, ethics and conflicting loyalties (Simonsen & Robertson, 2012, p. 30). Design and planning theorists Rittel and Webber (UC Berkely) coined the term “wicked problem” in their 1973 article “Dilemmas in a General Theory of Planning.” They were highly critical of the way societal problems were handled, which the authors argued were now of another complexity than planners had engaged with in the previous century. An approach other than the traditional linear science design of problem defining and solving urgently needed to be developed. Moreover, they observed how the public’s increased attacks and questioning of professions, authorities, governmental programs, and the educational system raised a distrust and frustration with “Americans’ traditional faith in a guaranteed Progress” (Rittel & Webber, 1973). Rittel and Webber claimed that the previous engineer-driven way of handling “tame problems” failed to recognize and define real problems such as societal inequity, racial discrimination, and environmental issues. The problem, they asserted, was in the old way of defining problems. Present planning problems, they argued were “wicked” by nature. The concept of the wicked problem is interesting in relationship to de- signing for ICIs. Wicked problems are inherent to healthcare and many of our times’ challenges (Ney & Meinel, 2019, p. 170). Even though the times and context are different from when the concept was coined, there are sim- ilarities, not only in present political movement and questioning of science, but in a simplified engineering approach that finds solutions that handle the “flawed consumers” by incarceration. I would dare to say that the design brief for the present problem solving, as well as how the problem is defined, lacks an understanding of the complexity of the problem. However, the concept of the wicked problem can be useful and inspiring to elucidate and understand aspects of the messiness of designing for ICIs. The full model Rittel and Webber developed from their “Dilemmas in General Theory of Planning” (1973) was built on three pillars, one of which was the wicked problem concept. The concept was built on ten points. I will not account for all of them here, however, since my aim is to draw a few par- allel lines to ICIs and put forward a perspective that can be helpful both in developing a design brief and in the design process that follows. A wicked problem is “concomitant,” which means that it is accompanied by aspects of the problem that are intertwined and related to each other; 2. Design and Stuff 45 new problems will unfold after each definition of the problem. There is not a simple logic, “…one cannot first understand, then solve.” (Rittel & Web- ber, 1973) the answer will develop simultaneously with the definitions of the problem until constraints set in and an acceptable solution is required. The point here is that a solution to a wicked problem cannot be tested or evaluated instantly (as solutions for “tame problems” can). It is not in the nature of the problem and its context. This is furthermore acknowl- edged by Buchanan (Buchanan, 1992), who suggests that “the problem for designers is to conceive and plan what does not yet exist, and this occurs in the context of the indeterminacy of wicked problems, before the final result is known.”. Following this logic, a wicked problem is always unique and has not one foreseeable solution, but rather one that is the best at the time, considering constraints and circumstances. Since the solution is always unique, it is not evident that a prior or similar solution can be transferred to the new problem. This is an important point, because it highlights the bad habit of doing as we usually do, which I find is one of the most problematic approaches to the design of ICIs. Although Rittel and Webber’s theory, having passed its fiftieth anniver- sary, is still frequently discussed, not least in design thinking. Nevertheless, one last point of “wickedness” I would like to add has to do with the respon- sibility of the designer, and I would like to include clients and stakeholders as well. The solutions and implementations of a wicked problem cannot easily be reversed. This is inherent to wicked problems (Kroes et al., 2008; Vermaas & Pesch, 2020). This means that people will have to adapt themselves and negotiate as well as they can to the given solutions. Therefore, the responsi- bility of creating a humane and good solution needs to be highly recognized. What can be brought from a wicked problem is that it prompts us to see the larger picture rather than finding the right solution. It addresses “what is actually going on,” not least when problems are ill-defined. It reminds the de- signer to critically reflect on a process they may take for granted, as “designers need to have the confidence to handle ill-defined problems by defining, rede- fining, and changing them” (Cross, 1982). 46 2. Design and Stuff Who’s the User? Just as the “wicked problem” does not have one solution, there is not one user to be defined. Whom we are designing for is a substantial component of the ICI design dilemma (similarly to other project that have a number of users and stakeholders). This does not mean who the persons are by their traits or abilities, but whose interest and needs to primarily consider. The prerequisites for designing in line with a brief will need a definition of whom the designer is designing for. There is an emotional aspect to this as well that I would like to consider briefly. Designing anything for an environment in which a sincerely vulnerable group of people live is inherently an ethical rollercoaster buffeted by conflicting loyalties to different users. For the designer, perceiving, expe- riencing, and feeling who is the first priority to listen to can be challenging and does not come with a self-evident answer. In other words, it is neither the inmates, patients, youths or staff, it is all. Similarly, Triberti and Riva (2016) suggest that in a user-centered design process (UCD), we need to identify the users and stakeholders and their inter- nal linkages. This may not be as evident at a first glance as one would expect. A helpful model can be found in Eason’s definition of three categories of users: primary, secondary, and tertiary (1988, pp. 92–94). Their model (and there are probably many similar models) was developed for information technology in the late 1980s (and thus is now somewhat dated); however, Eason proposes a structure of user groups and stakeholders that can help illustrate the con- flicting nature of the hierarchy of users and stakeholders. Eason categorized the users by their proximity to the designed object as follows: • Primary users interact directly with the object and are affected by it. • Secondary users are benefitted by the object and can interact at times and use it via an intermediary. Secondary users may have an influence about the primary users using/not using the object. • Tertiary users have a different role, they are involved in the object but are distant, they could be the purchaser or the decision maker that decides if, or not, the object should be available to the primary and secondary users. If one identifies the patients/clients/youths as the primary users, staff as sec- ondary users, and top decision makers as the tertiary users, an image emerges 2. Design and Stuff 47 that places the ultimate power with the tertiary users and invests the least power in the primary users. As a design theoretical concept, the structuring of user groups might be helpful; however, it lacks ethical guidance on how to approach the dilemma that some users will need to be prioritized over others. Considering the vulnerability of persons who are held in compulsory care, it is tempting to define patients, inmates, and youths as the primary users, with emphasis on “primary.” This could a reasonable place to start, since they are the ones who interact with the object 24/7. And maybe this definition is ac- ceptable and good enough, at least for now. So far, I have discussed issues mainly related to the process of designing stuff but also touched on the material matters of design. The following section shifts the lens to “reverse designing”(Dorst, 2019, p. 80) and touches upon the first research question that asks about the lived experience for inmates, patients, and youths. Carceral Design What do the designed products in carceral institutions tell us about our soci- ety? Is it true, as the design historian Susann Vihma suggests, that “an entire culture can be recognized on the basis of the design of its product environ- ment, because that environment embodies human conceptions and values” (Vihma, 2010). But how are these “values” then embedded in the products that constitute the physical environment in a prison or a forensic psychiatric hospital? What do stainless steel toilets tell us about our culture and time? What kind of idea do we have of what it is to be human, or what it should be? Bob Sommer (1969) states, “The long-range question is not so much what sort of environment we want, but what sort of man we want” (p. 172). The term carceral is used throughout this dissertation to denote the de- signed physical environment in ICIs that is “of, relating to, or suggesting a jail or prison.” 8 Moreover, by bringing the terms carceral and design together, I suggest that they delineate a field that positions carceral design as a distinct field of design research. To my knowledge, scholars of design and other fields have not used the term carceral design explicitly, but they have clearly expressed, 8 https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/carceral 48 2. Design and Stuff for example, how the distribution of space and materiality is rooted in a pe- nal ideology and carceral heritage (Allen, 2020; Foucault, 1991; Fransson, 2018; Goffman, 1961; Golembiewski, 2013; Hammerlin, 2015; Jewkes, 2017; Moran, 2015; Osmond, 1957; Sommer, 1976; Wener, 2012). Hammerlin asks, “What does it mean for a person to be in prison and the prison to be in the person?” (2018, p. 254). In other words, the carceral is in the impris- oned person and the person lives their life in the carceral. So, what then do we mean by prison, prison-like, and carceral – what is its constitution, and why talk about carceral design? The term carceral design is inspired by the discipline of carceral geogra- phy. 9Moran (2015) identified “carceral geography” as a subfield of human geography in which geographers explored spaces of incarceration. Human geography and geography deal with the interaction between humans and cul- tures, locations, spaces, economies, politics, etc. through investigating human social interaction in relation to spatial and environmental factors. In the field of carceral geography, discipline systems of incarceration are often critically viewed in relation to the constructions of, for example, gender, power rela- tions, political, ideological tendencies, and space. Politically charged spaces as supermax prisons (Gill et al., 2018) and refugee camps/immigration detention (Conlon & Hiemstra, 2017) are critically examined, as are prison landscapes and locations (Stoller, 2003). Foucault uses the term “carceral” in multiple variations, such as “carceral archipelago” and “carceral network,” to describe a system of tools that in- cludes the distribution of space, surveillance, organization, technologies, and every thing that makes up “the normalizing power,” as well as the institutional “carrier” that spreads this system from one institution to another (1975). Moreover, Goffman uses the term “prison-like” (1961) in his sociological and ethnographic studies of asylums, prisons, and institutions of compulsory care or detainment. Lastly, the “carceral turn” (Moran et al., 2018) or “punitive turn” is used to denote the neo-liberal politics of mass incarceration since the 9 The first draft of the theory behind the article “Fit and Re-Orientation…” was presented at the 3rd International Conference for Carceral Geography in 2018. Later, we the research team at Sahlgrenska invited Dominque Moran and Jennifer Turner to present at an event hosted by the Institution for Health and Caring Sciences at Sahlgrenska Academy, Gothen- burg University, in 2019, and we joined a study trip with Dominique Moran and represen- tatives from the North England social services to the Norwegian youth prisons in 2018. 2. Design and Stuff 49 1980s, which includes refugee camps and even society at large, such as sur- veillance of the internet or cameras in public places. The model of “fit and re-orientation” ( James & Olausson, 2021), illus- trated below, identifies the objects and materiality that constitute carceral design and carceral design heritage. However, the carceral physical features (in the model illustrated by a red frame) are not solely a passive compound of matter; they are agents that affect and orient the incarcerated person in one way or another. This is displayed graphically: The red frame represents carceral design heritage – its hard materiality, the interi- or’s lack of well-functioning objects, and the incarcerated youth’s loss of autonomy. They have little or no control over light, temperature, and air. Stainless steel objects, such as toilets and sinks, embody distrust and ascribe the interior its readiness to violence. The walls are cluttered, the furniture is fixed, the space is tight, noisy, and smelly. It is familiar and it “fits”. Orientation towards Orientation towards the life outside. Awayness. self. Self-awareness. Openess. ‘Fit’ ‘Re-Orientation’ Closed for Open for the the thera- therapeutic peutic alliance. alliance. Well-being. Empowerment. Change. Carceral design features. Fixed Normalized design. Sense of autonomy. furniture. Hard materiality. Poor Trust. Comfort. Moveable furniture. functions. Dominating security Design for movement. features. Low sense of autonomy. Normalized security features. Distrust. Perception of the self as Well-functioning furniture designed for a ‘criminal’. children and adolescents’ needs. FIGUR E 6. “Fit and re-orientation,” James and Olausson, 2020. Model of ‘Fit and Re-Orientation’ James & Olausson 2020 © 50 2. Design and Stuff The embodiment of carceral design can be said to be, apart from penal and repressive, a materialization of distrust in which the underlying ideology expresses and assumes that “…the inmate will destroy anything that is provided for him” (Sommer, 1974). Hammerlin further notes that the distrustful sys- tem of the prison is communicated through its “…topography, architecture, interior walls, spaces and security measures – and by its regulations, control and restrictive practices” (2018). It is important to remember that design of/ with/by the prison cannot be neutral: “Design is not neutral, nor is prison architecture” (Fransson, 2018). It is not possible to distill the critique from scholars in a few sentences or references. What can be highlighted from the research field, though, is the immanent role design, architecture, and materiality have in controlling people’s lives in ICIs. Scholars report that the design of a facility supports power structures, alienation, and eradication of identity, as well as creating health problems and isolation (Christie, 2006; Mathiesen 1988; Moran and Jewkes, 2015; Wener, 2012). However, the effect of carceral design is not solely to be found in the design and materiality of the past; contemporary “normalized” design solutions also play a role in supporting and upholding carceral systems and existential pain. The aim of situating carceral design is not to imply that all design features for ICIs should be classified as carceral, but rather to suggest a term and a research field that can create a healthy awareness of the context and outcomes of any institution in which people are incarcerated. The point is to unpack the mere existence of problematic and contradictory carceral features, and by doing so to lead the way toward innovative design models that can improve the condi- tions for the people who are incarcerated. Hasn’t carceral design been challenged through innovative design solu- tions in the past, and, if so, how have the alternatives been received and devel- oped? For instance, Wener (2012) gives the example of the so-called MCCs (metropolitan correctional centers). These late brutalist high-rise facilities were built in the mid 1970s based on progressive ideas of “normality” and direct supervision. The buildings’ exterior and interior design tried to “nor- malize” the carceral through, for example, wooden doors, free-standing fur- niture, reading lamps, and carpets – design elements that were not common in ordinary jails or prisons. Despite the radical ideas of a more “humane” 2. Design and Stuff 51 interior design and its hoped-for effect on well-being, the MCCs became subject to crowding and declined into a state of carceral misery. In 2019, the MCC in New York had deteriorated to a such a low material standard with “the filth, rodents, overflowing sewage” (Theoharis, 2019) and miscon- duct that the correctional center has been closed since October 2021. Its future is unknown. It may look like a natural and deliberate consequence of the politics that followed the 1970s anti-prison movement, somewhat like the development in the early nineteenth century of a few more “humane” prisons aimed at “rehabilitation” and “remorse” (e.g. the Eastern State Peni- tentiary in Philadelphia), which quickly devolved into an economy of labor and punishment rather than further exploring rehabilitation. According to Richard Wener, a society will never spend money on the “normalization” or “de-carceralization” of a prison if it might be perceived as offering a higher standard of living than that of society’s poorest citizens. 10 In other words, conscious carceral design of penal institutions is a powerful tool in the nar- rative a state uses to gain popularity and approval, another being the politics of longer and harder punishments. A demarcation of the field of carceral design as a subdiscipline of design would contribute to the research field of ICIs. In addition, there is a strong potential for transdisciplinary research with disciplines such as medicine, ar- chitecture, sociology, or criminology. Furthermore, with the current expansion of the prison services and behavioral health institutions, at least in the Nordic countries, the field of carceral design can contribute to mitigating the alarm- ing production of corporal damage. In addition, there is a need to develop re- search-based design solutions. Here the findings from the appended papers can contribute to foster well-being and eradicate the dichotomy between well-being and security. Moreover, by bringing studies of carceral design from different types of institutions there is an opportunity to produce knowledge between the institutions and research disciplines. 10 Meeting in person with Richard E. Wener, January 23, 2015, New York. 52 2. Design and Stuff Carceral Design as a Staged Commodity Carceral designed environments, as all environments, exist in a context and through the interaction with people. In carceral designed environments, the “prison-like” character is an agent that constitutes the socio-material world and very specific experiences of space and time. A common topic of discussion is the visual similarity between a prison cell and a room in a student dormitory, which addresses that the interior of the cell has no different effect on the inmate than on the student, and thus it is not harmful. The difference, however, lies in the context and the socio-ma- terial setting. Therefore, a room in a youth home or a cell in a prison will have different meanings outside its context. A student’s room may share similarities, but a reproduction of the carceral interior design in a student dorm would not make it a cell. But what makes the larger difference? The prison would not be a prison without the cells, the corridors with doors lockable from the outside, or the fenced courtyard and the perimeter walls. However, there are numerous prisons that have been turned into hostels and hotels, such as Långholmen in Stockholm and Clarion Collection Hotel Bilan in Karlstad. A number of features are similar, as the buildings were built and used as prisons; nevertheless, they are not prisons now (Turner & Peters, 2015). The gimmick of the “prison hotel” – the exotification of something hidden and forbidden, this explicit and implicit role-play – is put into words by the Norwegian sociologist Thomas Mathiessen (2016) in an interview in the newspaper Morgenbladet: “It will be a carnival that transforms the prison experience into a romantic, exotic experience, which it is not at all”. If we imagine two different scenarios inside Långholmen Hotel, the meaning of the place will vary. First, we can imagine it as it is today, a some- what gimmicky hotel with abundant external and internal carceral storytell- ing carefully curated to set a comfortable distance between the visitor and the painful past. Second, we picture the building and its interior now inhabited by youth aged 8–15 who are under compulsory care. The somewhat charm- ing, maybe mystifying, and exciting bared window becomes an active agent in the socio-material context in which the youth’s lived experience within this context is severely different than the tourist’s experience. The bared win- dow’s meaning has shifted from its storytelling cuteness to the role of an ac- tive agent in the system of incarceration. There is more to the bared window, 2. Design and Stuff 53 though, and along with the single possible placement of the bed it carries a punitive ideological (and functional) role in the socio-material context that the youth are placed in. The findings in Paper III, “It’s important to not lose myself…” from data collected at a SiS home in a former prison entail that: … the physical environment hinders the young men from moving their bodies freely both literally and symbolically through its materiality. The barbed wire fences, the locked windows, the window bars, the lockable steel doors, the wire fences, all these features have one purpose: to restrain their bodies. One of the young men at the SiS home said, “No normal room, windows that can’t be opened and closed, we are incarcerated. Aren’t we supposed to be able to breathe, see what I mean?” For reasons that are not fully comprehensible, several SiS homes are located in former prison buildings. We can only assume that the rationale for such a decision is found in economy, tradition, and avail- ability, since the governmental company Specialfastigheter owns and manages all Swedish prison and SiS buildings. Nevertheless, the idea of placing children and adolescents in a reborn manifestation of traditional penal ideology cannot be understood as anything but the state turning a blind eye to the material repre- sentation of ideology. Carceral design in this case may therefore be understood as a semantic expression of the level of human dignity imposed upon the youth. Regardless of its framing, a facility with a beautiful surrounding, single rooms, or the access to a gym, a carceral interior and exterior will always be pu- nitive elements in the context of care and incarceration. Thus, a hotel is a hotel and a prison is a prison —they are defined by the actions that take place there. Lastly, the difference between the “hotel prison” and the prison is captured in the common joke, “Oh, and of course you can leave whenever you choose – as long as you check out!” cited in in an article in The Mirror entitled “10 Former Prisons Turned Hotels Where Guests Pay to Sleep in Inmates’ Cells” (Delahaye, 2019). Naturally the hotel prisons are staged and play with people’s fantasies and desire to be thrilled. Sleeping in a cell is a sign of bravery and source of ex- citement at the idea of becoming a feared criminal. The prison hotels as well as the prison museums (sometimes co-existing on the same site) allow us to visit a place that is off limits for most people as well as giving us an opportunity to pretend to be an inmate or guard, perhaps together with others. Again, there is a compelling difference between the curated “carceral atmosphere” (Turner & Peters, 2015) and the reality of the inmate’s losses and “living” carceral design. 54 2. Design and Stuff Materiality as a Carceral Mediator In her text on material Monica Wagner (2018) discusses how the terms “matter” and “material” are closely linked and sometimes used interchangeably. Material is made from matter. Historically, in art and design, material results from shap- ing matter to form a chair, a painting, etc. Commonly the inherent value of the material is not significant, but the making of something by mastering the mate- rial to give it a man-made shape grants it value. The material in relation to the immaterial acts in a field of values and hierarchy. In this field, at least historically, the immaterial superposes the material, as the immaterial is in the realm of re- ligion. In art and design, the division between the immaterial and the material may be understood as the former’s change of nature from one material to another (im)material, which grants it the higher status of divinity. A simplified example would be a composer’s symphony in comparison to a furniture-maker’s chair. The discourse of materialism relates back to the topic of materialism vs. idealism and further back to aesthetic and philosophical theories by Plato and Aristotle. These theories debate how reality is shaped: either reality is produced by ideas that are created in our mind (idealism), or we interact with the material world by which our reality is shaped (materialism). In the materialistic view, all actions are shaped by matter. By the late twentieth century, digital code entered the context of art and design. With the emergence of electronic and digital devices and media tech- nology, the digital “immaterial” material led to a transformed understanding of the materiality of things, in which tangible and tactile experiences were not at hand. In this developed understanding of mediated materiality, focus shifted to the mediating performances and properties of material as a carrier of messages. The interaction between the human physical body and digital and electronic systems led further to ideas of a dissolved materiality in which the body becomes extended into the digital world and integrated into a sys- tem of continuous monitoring (Wagner, 2018). In the production of the carceral environment, materiality must not be over- looked. Materiality plays a role historically and semantically not only by lay- ering signs such as concrete perimeter walls, stainless steel plumbing fixtures, and steel doors into new buildings, but as a sign of identity production of the incarcerated. 2. Design and Stuff 55 That certain objects made by specifically chosen materials are placed in an environment with particular intentions is not by chance in a carceral en- vironment, not least visible is it in the dialogue between materials, but also between material and body. Therefore, material can be understood as a me- dium, and an “information carrier” (Wagner, 2018). These objects are loaded with sensemaking attributes and they carry inherent and explicit meanings for different user groups. However, every object is loaded with meaning through its matter, the shape of the matter to material, and the form-giving of the ma- terial – design. The design theorist Klaus Krippendorf (1989) writes, “Design is concerned with the subjective meanings of ‘objectively existing’ objects,” which in the context of a carceral environment that is based on carceral ma- teriality may be understood by the architects, staff, government, and other stakeholders on one side of incarceration means self-evidently robust design with “natural” properties suitable for its purpose. On the other side of incar- ceration, the incarcerated may make sense of the materiality as nothing but impermeable matter designed for punishment. Materiality facilitates conversation between materials. A simplified example could be how we experience a room with a beautiful set of wooden walls that reach down to a warm, softly polished concrete floor compared to a room where the walls are covered with painted fiberglass wallpaper and meet a cold and rough unfinished concrete floor. Naturally, juxtaposing these examples is an exaggeration; however, it says something about concrete, a common material in prisons. The material will be perceived differently de- pending on how it is crafted and the materials in its proximity, but it is more difficult to classify one material as “carceral” or intentionally deterrent – it’s all about the assemblage of materials and the context. This is expressed by the architect Peter Zumthor, who writes, “Materials react with one another and have their radiance, so that the material composition gives rise to some- thing unique” (2005). Socio-materiality places the activities of people in a field of action that is constitutive of “the material” and its materiality. In this field, the material sur- roundings address the people who will act according to opportunities afforded by their surroundings. The environment’s material friction (e.g., hard, soft, sticky, smelly or cold) is experienced through the body, thus emphasizing that our life is a material existence in material surroundings. “The material” is simi- larly shaped by society, hence the “sociomaterial” (Østerberg, 2000, pp. 29–30). 56 2. Design and Stuff Similarly, ethnographers such as Hammersley and Atkinson point out how social relationships are “crystalized and embodied in material objects” (2007, p. 134). Further, carceral materiality is commonly used in documentaries, televi- sion series, and films to underpin the roughness and toughness of the prison. This staging of the prison must mean something – it has consequences for a societal mythification and norm creation of the prison . When talking with youths in SiS homes, it is common for them to express how surprised they were when the design and materiality was not like in Orange Is the New Black. Nevertheless, the vast majority thought their rooms look like those of a jail. 57 3. Research and Literature In this chapter’s first sections, I will account for research and literature that dis- cusses and gives recommendations for environmental factors for ICIs. However, first I would like to give short personal background as well. In 2015, I received grants to make a field trip to the United States to meet scholars and visit psychiatric hospitals. During this visit I met with two senior scholars, Robert Sommer and Richard E. Wener, who have laid the groundwork for much of today’s research on the physical environment in prisons and psychiatric hospitals and are cited in most articles and literature in the field. Sommer’s research was primarily done in the 1950s, 60s and 70s. The most often cited source, however, is probably Roger Ulrich, whose study from 1983 will be found in more or less all articles in the field of design and care. Ulrich can be said to be the father of evidence-based design that focuses on the built environment in health care. These three scholars have in common that they are environmental psychologists, not designers. The last sections in this chapter give a short account of research and literature specific to the different types of ICI. The final section covers some of the research that specifically uses sketching as a method. As mentioned earlier, literature and research on the subject of the interior, fur- niture, and objects for mental health care is limited. In the following section, I will discuss a selection of studies that are essential to furniture and interior de- sign for psychiatric hospitals and prisons. A pioneer in this field was Humphrey Osmond (1917–2004), a British psychiatrist who conducted research in the 1950s at the Souris Valley Mental Health Hospital in Saskatchewan, Canada. In the article “Function as the Basis of Psychiatric Ward Design,” he discusses the impact of physical environment, especially for patients with schizophrenia: The objects of his surrounding, for instance, furniture, should be simple, unambiguous functional in their design. This will create an unambiguous, simple, clearly defined world which will demand a very small number of choices from the schizophrenic patient. (Osmond, 1957) 58 3. Research and Literature Osmond’s proposal is one of the few that bring up furniture specifically, and as such it has been an important contribution to the field of evidence-based design. Osmond was an advocate for the drug LSD for research use and saw the opportunity to alter his own perception through the drug, thus creating a similar experience to how patients with schizophrenia experience their mi- lieu (Dyck, 2010). Osmond’s findings suggest that schizophrenia distorts the visual interpretation of depth, which causes a distant object to appear small in size or, conversely, causes a nearby object to appear to be very large – hence the importance of unambiguous interiors and architecture. The hospital in Saskatchewan was an archetypical asylum from the late nineteenth century, and as such it represented and fostered inhumane care of patients. Osmond (1957) states that “so little thought has been given to the care of the mentally ill that buildings far more detrimental have been foisted on them.” A new radical building that paid attention to scale, social interaction, and privacy was designed by the architect Kiyoshi Izumi; unfortunately, it was never built. Izumi used LSD to “become” the patient, and by moving through the physical environment of the hospital he generated radical human patient-c entered ideas. He designed semi-circular buildings with patient rooms around the perimeter that would bring focus to the center of the circle to foster social interaction. Interestingly, this sociopetal design of space correlates to the phenomenolog- ical view of the body as a “knowing subject” (Edginton, 2010). In February 2015, I visited the environmental psychologist Bob Som- mer, then 85 years old, in his home in Davis, California. Sommer, who has a lifetime of experience of research in the field, was drafted by Osmond to work closely with him in Saskatchewan. They were concerned by the harm caused by isolation in “total institutions” (Goffman, 1961)and conducted research they hoped would give a “better understanding of life in institutions and so to effective means for making them less harmful’ (Sommer & Osmond, 1961). A significant study on the furniture arrangement at a newly renovated geriatric ward was carried out in 1958. Sommer and Ross found that “There is not one sign of any human interaction.” (1958). The “ward geography” analysis showed that the chairs were arranged shoulder to shoulder along the walls, which dif- fered from people’s homes “where furniture was arranged in small semi-circles.” It became obvious to the researchers that the arrangement was key to social interaction, which the staff did not realize: “A chair becomes something to sweep around rather than a tool for social interaction.”. They also found that 3. Research and Literature 59 patients and staff found the environments to be “fixed and natural” due to the confinement, which would result in any changes of the arrangement being re- turned to the previously fixed position, thus creating a physical environment that worked against socialization and created the “anti-therapeutic furniture arrangement that dominates many hospital wards.”. When Sommer and Ross designed a new interior with smaller square tables in the center or the room, social interaction increased, though not to the expected levels. They drew the conclusion that furniture alone does not create socialization: “a chair or a ta- ble is not therapeutic or anti-therapeutic in itself […]. Even the oldest chair or sofa can be used therapeutically if the staff are motivated….” (Sommer & Ross, 1958). Marrero (1977) described the carceral environment, i.e., barred windows, as ”architectural degradation”. He suggests that “It is possible, for example, to provide interior features adaptive to the differing requirements of their users.” Marrero’s findings corresponded with Bob Sommers, not least the theory that sociopetal furniture arrangements promote social interactions, yet sociofugal furniture arrangements are preferable to lessen the risk of aggressive encounters. As later described by Sommer in his book Tight Spaces Hard Architecture and How to Humanize It (1974) many of the patients who later were released from such institutions suffered from not having support from society. The idea was to replace the asylums with community-based active treatment centers. Unfortunately, the result was that many of many patients were discharged into the community without supportive programs and facilities for them. After his time in Saskatchewan, Sommer was approached by the Federal Bureau of Pris- ons (BOP) to join a federal task force on prison architecture. Sommer initiated research in prisons, but found the politics, culture, and the ideology of the prison impossible to work with. In The End of Imprisonment (1976) he writes: At the time I believed that the problems of the prison could be solved by building small, modern institutions close to the inmate’s home with ample amenities, privacy, provision for family contact, counseling, academic and vocational training, and access to community facilities. This was a liberal dream which might have worked except that it didn’t take into account the obvious facts that prison is used for only a very small number of offenders in a highly discriminatory manner and that most of these offenders are losers who are marked indelibly by the experience. Sommer’s description of the ideal prison has similarities to modern prisons. It sounds more or less like the design brief for the prison in Halden, Norway 60 3. Research and Literature from 2010. However, returning to the term of “rehabilitation,” Sommer writes, “the model of rehabilitation implies that the former state to which one wants to return is desirable” (p. 22). The meaning of the term is illogical and confusing, there is no interest for anyone to return to a state that was destructive and lead to imprisonment, according to Sommer. Although the term “corrections” and “re- form” are more accurate to the intention of the system, Sommer writes that any such intentions under the circumstances of imprisonment would be negative. It is interesting how the prison as an institution persists though the mean- ing of it transforms through time. If it is not clear today what the prison is and what it produces, it may be asked what purpose the physical environment in the prison has. Is it to rehabilitate, correct, reform, punish, or integrate? Does the physical environment support or conflict with the purpose? Som- mer’s framing of the idea of the prison implies that it is not a problem purely related to the physical environment or architecture; the problem is the idea of prison – of incarceration in “hard environments” (Sommer, 1974). What Sommer highlights is largely recognized in all my field studies and the scope of the appended papers. The questions and vague assumptions about how to answer them appear to remain unanswered fifty years later by the prison ser- vices, but not by the field of critical research. For example, Hammerlin (2021), Moran (2015), Wener (2012), Jewkes (2017), and Allen (2020) show that the effect of “hard environments” and high security prisons is nothing but negative and counterproductive to well-being. There is a limited body of research that relates directly to the physical envi- ronment in forensic psychiatric hospitals. Research and literature regarding psychiatric hospitals in general (inpatient and outpatient) is more substantial, although not rich. However, the two types of hospitals differ in several ways, not least the levels of security and its strong manifestation in high security forensic hospitals, which are in the scope of this dissertation. Therefore, this review section will as well primarily focus on these. Sweden has experienced a rapid and substantial expansion of new built fo- rensic psychiatric hospitals since 2000. Andersson et al. (2013) showed in their study of the hospitals’ architecture how the then planned nine hospitals (six freestanding large hospitals were built) displayed a vast diversity and approach to design narratives. Significant for all hospitals though was the strong focus on static security. The development of one of these new forensic psychiatric 3. Research and Literature 61 hospitals, Rågården (2012), is given account for in the book Rågården foren- sic psychiatry with a human face 11 (Caldenby et al., 2017). The book discusses several aspects of the process that led to its construction, but also displays the architect’s intentions and narrative. In general these hospitals provide better access to green areas, single rooms with ensuite bathroom, view of nature, and a higher grade of autonomy over their nearest surrounding – their rooms. A couple of studies have been conducted that have examined the care outcomes and patients’ experiences between the old facility (Lillhagen) and the new fa- cility (Rågården). The findings indicate that much of what is brought up in EBD is implemented but show as well that patients find their new environment much more supportive in giving them tools to uphold “one’s self ” and a greater sense of privacy and freedom (Olausson et al., 2018; Olausson et al., 2021). A few studies have looked at the relation between environment factors and aggression and found that factors such as lack of private space, heavy se- curity measures (Meehan et al., 2006) can foster aggressive behavior. Similarly, Hörberg et al., (Hörberg & Dahlberg, 2015; Sjögren et al., 2012) find that high security environments are challenging to patients’ well-being as well as to staff ’s ability to facilitate care. If there is a limited amount of research and literature on the relationship be- tween the physical environment and forensic psychiatric hospitals, it is even more limited regarding the special residential youth homes. This is not odd considering that they are in several ways specific to Sweden in that they are neither prisons nor group homes/family homes/residential care (that are more open), but something in-between. In a literature review report for SiS Jansen and Laike (2006) found the body of research very limited and referred primarily to environmental psychology studies in similar fields such as psychiatric hospi- tals and prisons, as well as EBD. Their findings on studies on the interior refer to the studies from 1950s, 60s, and 70s, as previously mentioned. The report recommends features, such as using color for wayfinding, view of nature, pri- vacy, spatial coherence, and points to the risk of negative impact of crowding. Ulrich (2018) conducted a similar but more detailed report, the con- clusion also here was that research on the special residential youth homes and juvenile correctional institutions is very limited. The report looked therefore 11 Swedish title: Rågården Rättspsykiatri med mänskligt ansikte. 62 3. Research and Literature to other fields and EBD. An important conclusion from Ulrich’s report is that increased occupancy levels (as measured by social density – the num- ber of youths divided by the total number of rooms that are accessible to the youths) will risk increasing stress levels and aggression. Other findings and recommendations are similar to those of EBD. Primarily the report focuses on bringing down the number of incidents in which threats and violence occur. It recommends among other findings movable seating arrangements, personal space regulation, and sense of control. Furthermore, Rohan Lulham (2007), whose research has been on corrections and juvenile detention centers (JCD), highlights the importance of the physical environment for interrelationships between staff and detainees. Evidence-Based Design In mental health and correctional services, there has been a growing interest in recent decades in the physical environment’s impact on health and rehabilita- tion. Several universities offer programs specialized in design and architecture for healthcare, and professional and industry organizations arrange courses and seminars on the subject. But why has this increased interest emerged? I propose a set of reasons: an economic incentive to develop cost-effective psy- chiatric care, the growing knowledge bank of evidence-based design (EBD), new laws on security, ethical awareness of outdated care models and environ- ments, superseded and worn-down buildings, and privatization. The organi- zations, such as The Center for Health Design, and universities mainly focus on architecture; few if any focus on product design or furniture design. The same is true of research and literature. Therefore, it might not be so odd that much of the research and literature I have reviewed so far derives mainly from the 1960s and 70s. Presumably there was a larger political interest in the insti- tutions at the time that coincided with an emerging interest in environmental psychology and political movements? For some reason the correctional services may not have implemented design aimed at fostering “rehabilitation” to the same extent as in the health care sector, but there are a few examples of newly built prisons (such as Halden Prison in Norway (2010), the high security remand prison in Gothenburg, Sweden (2011) that is the largest in Scandinavia with 325 beds, and the Enner 3. Research and Literature 63 Mark Prison in Eastern Jutland, Denmark (2016) all display an effort to tone down visual security and create a more domestic environment, “…an environ- ment that is as close to normal living standards as possible” (Petersen, 2013). Moreover, the Swedish Prison and Probation Service published a literature review in 2018 that states, “The purpose of the review was to embed current academic knowledge in policy discussions and ensure that existing evidence relating to the physical environment inform the SPPS’s overall strategic con- cepts of dynamic security and rehabilitation…” (Kriminalvården, 2018). This is a positive development, and since the Swedish Prison and Probation Service are substantially increasing their number of beds, it is valuable if their findings, many of them relating to EBD, as of today can be implemented. Evidence-based design (EBD) is described by Stichler and Hamilton as “the process of integrating the best research evidence, clinical and design ex- perience, and client (patient, staff, hospital, and community) values to guide healthcare design decisions” (Design, 2016). By this definition, EBD could be seen more as a method, movement, and stance rather than a field or a dis- cipline on its own. Nevertheless, EBD has made a strong contribution to re- search by bringing forward the discussion of the physical environment’s role in health care. This has not only contributed to increased research in the field of design and health but hopefully also to a better process and knowledge when designing new facilities. EBD is well established in the United States through the Center for Health Design, among others, and has received much interest in Scandinavia as well. The most noticeable changeover for patients today is single rooms with private bathrooms, which is the single most recommended evidence-based design implementation for modern hospitals (Andersson, 2013; Ulrich, 2012). Roger S. Ulrich, PhD, former professor of Architecture at the Center for Healthcare Building Research (CVA) at Chalmers University of Technology, is one of the most cited researchers on the effect of the physical environment in care environments. Ulrich, now residing in Sweden, was co-founding director of the Center for Health Systems and Design at Texas A&M University and contributed much while he was there to bringing the fields of architecture and environmental psychology together, with the focus on health care. In 1984, his groundbreaking study “View Through a Window May Influence Recovery from Surgery” was published. Ulrich searched for and found a perfect archi- tectural set-up where 23 patient rooms looked out onto deciduous trees and 64 3. Research and Literature 23 onto a brown brick wall. The study measured data from 1971 to 1981 on randomized groups of patients who had undergone surgical removal of the gallbladder. The results showed that the “tree-view patients” used fewer pain killers, rated higher in satisfaction, and had shorter postoperative hospital stays than the “wall-view patients.” In the summary Ulrich writes, “Perhaps to a chronically under-stimulated patient, a built view such as a lively street might be more stimulation and hence more therapeutic than many natural views.” This statement appears to be largely unnoticed in research and architectural practice; assuming the “magic bullet” of nature’s impact is more attractive. It would be interesting to repeat studies like Ulrich’s but at psychiatric hospi- tals and prisons. Ulrich’s study from 1984 can be seen as the cornerstone of EBD. In 1993, the Center for Health Design (CHD) was founded. CHD has become a hub for evidence-based design, offering, among many things, “Evidence-based Design Accreditation and Certification” (EDAC) for professionals such as designers, architects, health care providers, builders, and manufacturers through training in the evidence-based process. Moreover, research by Ulrich et al. in the field of EBD shows that the design of the physical environment does have a vital importance for humans in psychiatric care: it decreases stress, aggression, and drug use and results in higher satisfaction with the care given. Examples of identified key features that foster stress reduction include: mov- able seating in spacious dayrooms, nature window views, garden accessible to patients, nature art, no abstract art, and homelike qualities (Ulrich et al., 2012). Daffern et al. (2004) conclude in a comparative study of the transfer of patients from one forensic psychiatric hospital (old) to another (new) that “it may always be difficult to precisely identify the contextual contributors to inpatient aggression because of the inability to create methodologically irre- futable studies.” They identified bias to factors such as changing the number of acute beds in the new hospital, less robust furniture, and property dam- age of private bathrooms. Nevertheless, the study suggested support for the idea that factors such as the “patient’s access to privacy, have an influence on aggression and are amenable to change.” Moran et. al. (2019) published a study in which gardens at British pris- ons indicate a contribution to health and well-being, but more research, spe- cifically regarding incarcerated youth, would be welcome. Research indicates that looking at any kind of nature have a positive effect on health; nature’s 3. Research and Literature 65 restorative effect is due to its fractal design, specifically deciduous trees, as well as phytoncide from trees (Florence, 2016, Nakamura, 2008, Li et al., 2009, Hägerhäll, 2006). So-called forest bathing has become a phenomenon in many western countries, having originated in Japan (Park et al., 2009). To bring the findings of nature’s restoring effect to the field of design, it would be of interest to explore how these indications, specifically regarding fractals, could be brought into the field of product and graphic design, as well as art for care environments. There is a great need for an increased body of research on the physical environment in ICIs: however, there are ethical and methodological difficulties with conducting research on vulnerable humans in closed institutions, which might be one of the obstacles to expanding the still thin body of research. But here I want to raise another point. EBD can be used to inform design deci- sions and create greater knowledge and naturally it would be of great support if there was evidence-based research that could advise the design of new ICIs, not least for SiS-homes. However, a critical view is needed to the assumption that findings on one group is applicable to another. Sketching The main theme for scholars that use drawing as a method is not about the finished piece of art but the specific way of concentrated seeing, reflection, and presence that sketching enables (Berger, 1976; Cross, 2007; Ingold, 2011b; Taussig, 2011). However, the literature on sketching as a research method is fairly limited. I have not yet conducted a full literature review, but during the years of this project I have not found examples of researchers using sketching specifically with interviews in ICIs. Visual methods, on the other hand, are used in the context of ICIs and health care (Hansen‐Ketchum & Myrick, 2008; Olausson & Lindahl, 2022). In general, visual methods use cameras, video, or images together with participants, or participants produce the material that researchers analyze (Björgvinsson & Sandin, 2014; Wang & Burris, 1997b). It is not uncommon for research in which an “external” artist assists the research team (Harper, 2012; Jellema et al., 2022). There are a large number of books and papers by scholars on art therapy in ICIs, though that field is outside the scope of this dissertation. 66 3. Research and Literature Naturally, sketching is used in research within the fields of design, archi- tecture, and art, where it is commonly used as a tool through which to think and communicate or as a tool for participatory design projects. However, Cleeve (2020) is one of the few I know of who uses her own sketching as a method in design research in health care. Her dissertation concerns materi- ality and objects in dementia care. Sketching as a tool for documentation in fieldwork appears to be more common in anthropology and ethnography than in many other fields, most likely due to the rich tradition of sketching in anthropology before the camera became the prevalent tool of documentation. Nevertheless, there are schol- ars within this field that use sketching in fieldwork and as an analytical tool (Causey, 2012; Kashanipour, 2021a; Kuschnir, 2016; Taussig, 2011). Both Kashanipour and Taussig bring forward the epistemological issues of drawing in the field. Sketching is not about making a “true” depiction, in the sense that what was seen can be a “true” representation of the moment. All depiction and transforming of what we see is subjective, but sketching adds a dimension in its own right: it “…attempts to get beneath the surface of perception with the drawing gaze,” as Kashanipour observes. The anthropologist Andrew Causey (2016) uses drawing as a method to actively see and participate – what he calls “seeing-drawing”(p. 11) – thus gaining a deeper understanding of the culture he is studying. Causey questions why his field is preoccupied with text when visual data, for instance from ob- servations, can be recorded and interpreted visually. In anthropology, terms such as “visual fieldnotes” and “graphic notetaking” suggest that the medium is one among others such as photography, writing, filming, etc. Even though researchers today aim to bring forward and advocate for the positive gains of sketching, it is still used sparsely. The sociologists Heath et al. (2018) describe sketching as a method in a positive sense when they in- vite an artist to follow the research team. However, in their study, sketching is placed outside the usual established methods they employ. Heath et. al. con- clude in their study that sketching “generates a refreshingly different form of visual data, and as such has considerable potential to be used as a complement to other methods.” Sketching as described here is still a “different” “comple- ment,” and thus more research projects with integrated sketching are needed to expand this field. 3. Research and Literature 67 In this dissertation, however, I present Sketch and Talk as a research method with a theoretical underpinning and inspiration from phenomenology. More- over, I posit Sketch and Talk as one of the dissertation’s central findings, which I will return to in Chapter Seven. In the following chapter on methodological and theoretical considerations, I will discuss how I see the interconnections between phenomenology, design, and design methods for ICIs. 69 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations Introduction My approach is rooted in a designerly way of conducting the design profession – the methodological and theoretical considerations resonate with the prac- tice of the designer. However, to understand and develop the methods, tools, and techniques, multiple methods and tools from ethnography bring clarity. First, I will give a general account of how phenomenology and ethnography are most essential to this dissertation. Then I will bring the reader into a scene that the writer and scholar Sara Ahmed paints in her book Orientations: To- ward a Queer Phenomenology (Ahmed, 2006a). This scene has been central to my understanding of the physical environment and its stuff and how we are “oriented in one way or another.” Hence, I borrow Ahmed’s theory on orientation and queerness and apply it to the people who are cared for in ICIs. Phenomenol- ogy, like design, is corporal – that is, we experience through our bodies. I use the example of a chair to illustrate the corporal and orientational aspects of design. In the section “Phenomenology and Design” I relate the phenomenological method of suspension to the temporal state of Sketch and Talk, wherein I pose the question, “What is actually going on?” Furthermore, suspension as a tool helps us to see the queer in the “normal,” which I suggest can be a way to approach the “wicked prob- lem” in design inquires. In the section “Ethnography & Design Inquires,” I give a short background to ethnography. I then discuss the use of ethnography in design, such as design ethnography and design anthropology. However, I do not consider this dissertation’s work and the group of users I address (inmates, patients, and youths) to be “consumers,” who are the target group of design ethnography. Lastly, I account for this dissertation’s theoretical framework on the dichotomy between care and incarceration, which is based on Yngve Hammerlin’s theory of the frame- work of the prison services as being built both on penal ideological principles and on care and (re)habilitation ideological principles – two opposing frameworks. 70 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations The qualitative methods used in this doctoral project are chosen and devel- oped to answer to the research questions and for the specific context of ICIs – not least including security, which is undoubtedly the dominant factor that controls the ICIs’ organizational, spatial, and ideological logic (Hammerlin, 2018). Complying with security therefore requires setting limitations on data collection, access, and methods. Limitations, however, provide not only obstacles but also possibilities, particularly for method development. My emphasis has to a high degree been on field studies and method development, especially during the first years. Beginning with field studies led to an open attitude to theoretical perspectives that resonated with the material and the many aspects of ICIs. It has therefore been an intertwined and reciprocal process between fieldwork and theory. I found that in relation to the research material, Van Manen and Ahmed offer theories that resonate with the world of stuff, design, and being in ICIs. Considering the relatively unexplored field of design for ICIs, the research and literature is limited. Emphasis has therefore been to a large part given to field studies and method development to find out “what is actually going on.” As previously emphasized, it has been crucial for this project to get first-hand experience of ICI environments and to study people in their typical environment. This has meant being there with “curiosity [emphasis added] in the presence of the Other.” (Czarniawska, 2014, p. 24). In the quest of being there, ethnographic methods have been essential to acquiring an experience that is as close as pos- sible to people’s lifeworld. Likewise phenomenological inquiries and theory have been indispensable in creating knowledge about people’s lived experience of ICIs. In this doctoral project, it has not been meaningful to follow “what is going on” anywhere but in the very place of the ongoing. As a method of dis- cussing the research questions, Sketch and Talk works through sketching and by observing and following the lines of the narrative. As Ingold states, “It is the trace of an observational gesture that follows what is going on” (2011a, p. 225). One of this project’s research questions asks, “What kind of everyday lived experience is brought to people who are cared for in environments de- signed for care and incarceration?” To explore the meanings of the lived expe- riences, van Manen (2016) phrases what he defines as the phenomenological research question by asking “…what something is ‘really’ like” (p. 42). The “re- ally” and the “actually” in the questions above are akin in the respect that they not only emphasize that there is more than what we might see as the obvious or ordinary; the “really” and “actually” assume what might be considered a 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations 71 naïve attitude. But also Ahmed’s concept of “queer phenomenology” formu- lates questions similar to “What is actually going on” by using the concept of foreground-background to investigate phenomenological queerness in a straight world. Through her phenomenological inquiries, she uncovers how the straight world we take for granted is constructed. Furthermore, the theory of “existential well-being” posited by Todres and Galvin (2010) has offered an opportunity to gain understanding of well-being in the context of care and incarceration. The authors’ concept of “dwelling-mo- bility” suggests a dialectic relationship between dwelling and mobility, and the concept as an intertwined whole provides a structure for the many categories of well-being. Even though dwelling and mobility at a first glance appear to be antonyms, it is the balance between the two and the ability to move forward that matter. There is no single definition for well-being; instead, the term has several meanings (Huppert, 2017). In this dissertation, well-being is defined as having the ability to move forward in life, functioning well, having certain control over one’s life, a sense of purpose, and experiencing positive relation- ships (Ruggeri et al., 2020; Todres & Galvin, 2010). Well-being does not nec- essarily mean a life without health problems or painful emotions (Galvin & Todres, 2011; Huppert, 2009). This dissertation asks questions about how we can understand and create knowledge about the role the interior and its stuff play in people’s lived experi- ence in compulsory care. Living with objects means they are part of the everyday world of meaning production. Stuff plays an ontological role because “…stuff contributes to the very formation and loss of a person” (Miller, 2010, p. 136). Living in ICIs means living with objects that mainly are not one’s choice. There- fore, lived experience and meanings will change depending on what side of the walls you are. This is particularly visible in Paper III, “‘It’s Important to Not Lose Myself ’: Beds, Carceral Design and Women’s Everyday Life within Prison Cells.” Theoretical Point of Departure In her book Orientations: Toward a Queer Phenomenology (2006b), Sara Ahmed paints a scene that has been essential for my work. The scene is auto- biographical and is set in her parents’ home. Ahmed describes how the “formal table” in the “formal room” has taken the shape of the family, not through its 72 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations everyday use, but by its lack of everyday use, or by their restraint from using the table. The table’s polished surface is sparse with marks, reserved for when guests visit. Who the family and their guests become when dining is reflected by the dark wood lacquer – the family as “image and as imagined” (p. 89). First the table is the foreground of Ahmed’s gaze when she stands in the door opening, then her gaze is directed from the table to the background. This is the background that actually brings the table to her, that makes it into the table – not just any table. The background, composed by a sideboard and a wall with framed family and wedding photos, now becomes foreground to what first was peripheral. Still, she knew those objects were there, and by this knowing the table is the table, in that room, in that house. Ahmed, who ex- periences queerness in relation to what is now the foreground, describes how the formation of the framed photos of heterosexual marriages and the objects placed on the sideboard direct her to a straight life. The lived experience Ahmed portrays is not only a family tradition, a direction, or experience of the past and present. It wants something as well. It demands a response to actions that point to a future of new straight gener- ations in line with previous generations. Through the gathering of the family (literally and figuratively), their background, the background, demands a fu- ture of heterosexual marriage. But for Ahmed, something is missing in the scene. The full story of the heritage and assemblage of objects is not told. She writes, “We need to ask what gets put aside…” (p. 90). The normative background-foreground, expe- rienced through the gaze that wandered from one object to another in the “formal room,” directs our attention in one way or another depending on what becomes placed in the foreground or background for one person but not for another. What Ahmed calls “queer objects” (p. 91) have no place in the prox- imity of the straight assemblage, and when there is no space for them, they cannot be in reach; they are not even close, or there at all. This “compulsory heterosexuality” tends to “restrict the capacity for other kinds of action” (p. 91). Future actions, however, are not restricted for the straight couple; their future is set and open. Yet for Ahmed, “the queer body becomes from this viewing point a ‘failed orientation’…” (p. 91). I have carried the scene Ahmed so brilliantly depicts in the back of my head for some time. I imagined the “queerness” of the people who live in ICIs, and I saw the “unneeded, unwanted, forsaken,” the “flawed consumers” (Bauman, 2007, 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations 73 p. 126) drawn as figures against the background of straightness, the normative, and the taken-for-granted. It has primarily been this scene, this phenomenolog- ical backdrop, that has drawn me to parts of phenomenology and specifically to Ahmed. Sara Ahmed uses phenomenology with feminist, racial, and sociologi- cal theories to discuss how we take our orientation in life – what we are turned towards and how we arrive there. Ahmed’s interest is not primarily the theory of phenomenology but how bodies are oriented and created through space and objects, and how space and objects are created through our bodily orientation. Ahmed’s writing on queer phenomenology is about sexual orientation. The scene I imagined was instead inhabited by the “unneeded, unwanted, for- saken” (Bauman, 2007, p. 126). I ask therefore what kind of queerness they experience – in what direction are the “unwanted” oriented? To what kind of objects do they turn, and what kinds of experiences are produced? What meanings are there, and what phenomena will be revealed? I see the queer- ness, or rather the experience of queerness, against a horizon with a certain repertoire and assemblage of stuff held by this group, and depending on the individual background, the repertoire will express itself through different meanings. That is why I find Ahmed’s scene so brilliant – because it helps us to not assume that one person’s experience will be equivalent to another’s. Phenomenology and Design I will point to those areas of phenomenology that I see as relevant for the methodological choices in this dissertation and will mainly describe how I understand phenomenology through Sara Ahmed and Max van Manen’s theories. The inquiries of this dissertation are about design, the theoretical and methodological choices are subject to design, and the questions, though influenced by phenomenological method, come from design. In the following text, I will do my best to describe my understanding of phenomenology, with detours and correlations to design. The use of phenomenology in architecture has a long tradition, not least through Merleau-Ponty’s work on body and space. The phenomenological expe- rience of space and material objects in architecture and design is an epistemolog- ical and ontological understanding of the field that Pallasmaa (2005) articulates by stating that “architecture articulates the experiences of being-in-the-world 74 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations and strengthens our sense of reality and self; it does not make us inhabit worlds of fabrication and fantasy” (p. 45). In design, Wendt (2015) argues, for exam- ple, that to understand how and why we design we should use phenomenology, not least to become more informed about user experiences. Phenomenologically speaking, experiencing the world firsthand through the body is not only essential, it is what experiencing is – there is no other way to be in the world. The same can be said when talking about the essen tials of design. How could we experience anything in any way other than through our body, including inquiries about the meaning of stuff in a prison cell, a patient room, or at home. However, that does not mean that the theoretical founda- tion and interpretations between design and phenomenology are identical; instead, phenomenology elucidates and creates a way to experience “what is actually going on” and what kind of meaning can come with that experience. Phenomenological inquirers need to be able to reflect what went on in a par- ticular moment, or rather layers of moments, which cannot be captured as they are happening, but only by reflecting upon them. Phenomenological research is a search for meanings. As van Manen (1990) states, it is “the systematic at- tempt to uncover and describe the structures, the internal meaning structures, of lived experience” (p. 10). The lived experience is the lifeworld, the everyday life we take for granted, fluid and in a constant changing in orientation, new experiences showing themselves as they are lived through. A research question that has its interest in a physical object, such as a chair, will in the tradition of phenomenological research ask, “What is the human experience of the chair?” The focus is not on the chair, but on the experience of the chair and the meaning of the experience that is the inquiry. For a de- signer who designs stuff, it is similarly the human experience that is in focus. Naturally a designer cannot fully predict the given experience; however, de- signerly knowledge can alter the experience in one direction or another. A simple illustration of that design could be something like a chair designed to give the experience of restlessness, as sometimes is wanted in a café to enhance the rotation of customers. It can be designed with a narrow, cold seat that is angled 90° to the back. An opposite design to provide an experience of comfort would give a chair with full upholstery and support for different body shapes. But what makes a chair comfortable is not always its softness but its ability to accommodate movement from one bodily position to another. As the chair 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations 75 designer Peter Opsvik (2009) brilliantly observes, “The best body position is always the next one,” evidently, we are constantly being oriented in new di- rections. Hence, the design of one chair can invite a person to dwell, while another gives the opposite intention. These are two examples, albeit simpli- fied, of how human experiences with a chair can be oriented through design. It is important to remember that phenomenology is not one distinct method; there are different strands and interpretations, not least regarding one of the key concepts that goes under several names: “bracketing,” “epoché,” “reduction,” or “suspension.” Bredmar and Dahlberg use the term “hold your horses” 12 to clarify how suspension can be used in research. They propose that “holding your horses” aims to give as rich, nuanced, and clear descriptions of the life world as possible. This approach is to be used not only in data collec- tion, but also through the analysis of the material. Analyzing in phenomeno- logical research, according to the authors, works with the material through a structure of meanings. This can be done by looking at a figure through a background of other meanings, for example, as well as changing background to foreground to let new meanings reveal themselves (as in Sara Ahmed’s ex- perience of queerness through the dining room). Zahavi (2019, p. 34) writes that there are several understandings of “brack- eting” and that epoché should be understood as “a suspension of a particular dogmatic attitude towards reality” and that this “dogmatic attitude” is Husserl’s concept of “natural attitude.” There are different interpretations and terms of the concept of “bracketing” depending on which of the founding philosopher’s theories is being discussed; van Manen(2016) describes a multitude of under- standings of “reduction.” Reduction, for instance, in relation to Merlaue Ponty is described by van Manen as a process of several steps in which one practices levels of reduction of feelings, theories, preferences, etc. to “come to an under- standing of the essential structure of something” (p. 185). This “something” is the phenomenon of the inquiry and can be revealed in different ways through “reduction.” Furthermore, Bredmar and Dahlberg (2019) assert that in phe- nomenological research the researcher needs to take a position different from their natural attitude in order to avoid taking the experience for granted – that is, the object of phenomenon being investigated, as when interviewing a 12 My translation of the Swedish word tygla that Dahlberg uses in the original Swedish text. Another translation of tygla from Swedish to English could be to “bridle” or “curb.” 76 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations participant. What they call the “natural attitude” in phenomenology is a state of everyday, ordinary experience. We do the things we do without reflecting. “It is about simply taking it for granted that the world we encounter in expe- riences also exists independently of us” (Zahavi, 2019, p. 36). Through how I understand van Manen, Ahmed, or Dahlberg I draw connecting lines between phenomenology (what is actually going on) and Sketch and Talk. They all share the type of phenomenological suspension that Bremer and Dahlberg formulate as “holding your horses.” What they suggest is not “bracketing”: the researcher should try to block out their pre-under- standings. Suspension, they state, means to critically view the full process of understanding and to slow down – to “hold your horses.” The point of slowing down is to not take for granted what you experience, see, hear, smell, or feel in relation to the investigation, which we can call the phenomenon, the design problem, or the process of sketching and talking. Dahlberg (2006) asserts that it is the researcher’s task to find out how the person really experiences the phenomenon (pp. 113–15). We must not take for granted that what we experience is exactly what we experience; by slowing down and “holding our horses,” we suspend our relationship to “truth.” A similar approach is reasonable for a designer to apply in a design process. It is in tune with the “actually” of the design inquiry and directs to a state of “un- covering […] internal meaning structures” (van Manen 1990). Moreover, Dahl- berg and Dahlberg (2020) gives an illustrative example that helps to show how the “actually” can be understood as a consciousness of the “natural attitude”: As an illustration of the natural attitude we can, for example, think about how we every day are walking down some stairs and don’t question that the stairs exist, or how they exist for us, they are “simply there.” In the same way, the world is “simply there” for us, and we don’t question this factual existence of the world, or that it exists apart from us. Similarly, we can understand suspension as a tool to see the un in the unfamil- iar or the queer in the normal. This is a way of approaching what we take for granted and can be used in decoding the wicked problem in design inquiries. I have given descriptions of some of the main concepts of phenomenol- ogy so far, if somewhat simplified. Considering the challenge of many of the concepts of phenomenology, one might want to ask if one can be inspired by phenomenology in qualitative research – if that is even possible. For instance, 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations 77 could one be inspired without the “true” use of epoché? Would it still be phe- nomenology? Zahavi (2021) suggests that “phenomenology is far from merely being a descriptive enterprise. Phenomenology offers as well theoretical ac- counts of its own that can challenge existing models and background assump- tions.” As far as I understand Zahavi here, he suggests that phenomenological methods in research make sense even when used outside a phenomenological field, as they contribute richness and meaning to qualitative research. In the paper “Designing for Care: Employing Ethnographic Design Methods at Special Care Homes for Young Offenders – A Pilot Study” ( James & Olausson, 2018), we use the concept of existentials to analyze the meanings of incarcerated youths’ experience of the designed environment. Our data collection, however, used ethnographic methods, although there are phenomenological influences, not least in the form of interviewing and reflections. To structure and explore the meanings of people’s lived experiences, van Manen (2016) uses four 13 ex- istential themes that are fundamental for all lifeworlds. These existentials are: “lived space (spatiality), lived body (corporality), lived time (temporality), and lived human relation (relationality)” (p. 101). However, there is not one life world (which is one of the main concepts of phenomenology); lifeworlds ap- pear in each individual experience and in an endless abundance of forms and realities. Van Manen states therefore that the four “existentials” are disseminated through all lifeworlds. Furthermore, phenomenology is about how human be- ings’ consciousness is always turned/directed/oriented towards an object. This object that we are directed to, whether it be a chair, a memory, or an internal image of a childhood room, contains an experience – it is something we expe- rience that means something specific to a specific person. The phenomenolog- ical term for this directedness of consciousness is intentionality, which means that we understand what we are turned to as something meaningful. Similarly to how van Manen’s existentials are used, the paper brings understanding and meaning to the experiences youths have when entering a room with a carceral design through Ahmed’s concept of orientation (intentionality). Lastly, an emotionally moving encounter with art, states Pallasmaa, “slows down and suspends the understanding of time and opens up a view to a calm 13 There are existentials other than the four core concepts I describe here, according to van Manen, but they are used on “sub-levels.” 78 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations and tranquil duration” (Pallasmaa, 2016). I would suggest that the experience of making art, crafting, or sketching, not least with a shared consciousness with others, has a similar affect – what we also can call “dwelling.” The shared space and place for “dwelling,” what the anthropologist Kashanipour (2021b) calls “the third figure,” is enabled through “drawing field notes.” Ethnography & Design Inquires Ethnography, ethnology, and anthropology are interconnected and sometimes used interchangeably. Western anthropology, when it developed as a research field in the nineteenth century, was mainly concerned with the study of human lives and culture in distant places. During this period, ethnology referred to comparative and historical studies of multiple groups, whereas ethnography was first-hand investigations of a single group. Later, ethnography came to in- corporate both ways. Traditionally, however, travelers and missionaries who gave written descriptions of their faraway encounters were seen as ethnogra- phers – ethno meaning people and culture, graphy meaning describing and later writing. Anthropologists were among the recipients of their material (Cranz, 2016; Hammersley & Atkinson, 2007; Kwame Harrison, 2018). However, during the first half of the twentieth century, anthropologists started to move away from secondhand data, which had racist and bias con- notations, to do firsthand fieldwork themselves (Kwame Harrison, 2018). Ethnographic methods that are commonly used in contemporary research today arise from the Chicago School, with the development of urban ethnogra- phy during the first half of the twentieth century that stressed the importance of social research within one’s own community rather than faraway places. At the time it was a radical idea and a new way for researchers to get involved in society with research that focused on social injustices and racially marginal- ized groups (Deegan, 2001; Kwame Harrison, 2018; Oreilly & Bone, 2008). According to Kwame Harrison, ethnography is defined by its subject of investigation, which is cultural behavior with “thick descriptions” and to “make the strange familiar and the familiar strange” (2018, p. 29). For ethnographers, the primary research methods used are participant observation, fieldnote writ- ing, and interviews; however, Kwame Harrison emphasizes that these tools and methods are not to be confused with the methodology of ethnography (p. 7). 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations 79 “Design ethnography” (Salvador et al., 1999), however, uses ethnographic methods to gain a deeper understanding of the consumer’s everyday life experience and to apply findings to product development (Ventura, 2013). The use of eth- nographic methods is not new to the field of design, but it does not have a very long tradition, and it shares similarities with the development of the user-centered design methods during the 1970s and 80s developed by, among others, Ergonomi Design Gruppen 14 (Göransdotter, 2020). Ethnographic methods used for prod- uct development and to gain consumer knowledge tend to be time-effective and combine several different ethnographic methods to gain as much information as possible within a limited time (Salvador et al., 1999). Design processes priori- tize speed for economic reasons and need to rapidly meet the demand for a new product (Cranz, 2016; Portigal, 2008). Portigal, who is critical to “rapid ethno- graphy” and companies’ demand for quick fixes on user knowledge, emphasis that “the key […] is to match the time invested to the level of insight required.” The field of design anthropology has established itself as a discipline in recent decades using anthropological theoretical understandings of groups of people’s everyday lives with objects and is combined with the knowledge and processes of design. Scholars suggest that the multidisciplinary union of one discipline concerned with the past and the present (anthropology) together with another discipline concerned with the future (design) can establish “col- laborative future making” (Gunn et al., 2013). Design anthropology advocates multidisciplinary teams of both designers and anthropologists using ethno- graphic methods and is used not least in user experience design. A critique of design that is raised by design ethnographers (and many oth- ers) is that designers design for their own needs, believing their own needs are universal. Cranz (2016, p. x) underlines the importance of ethnography because it “teaches one to listen actively to the knowledge people have about their own culture” (p. x, preface). Ethnographic methods for designers, when conducted in an ethical and structured way, should be basic knowledge to inform designers, design students, and design researchers of users’ needs, “reminding designers that their designs must fit more than the privileged, pristine environments they like to imagine” (Portigal & Norvaisas, 2011). However, it is important to not forget that design is a user-informed practice in which ethnographic methods are not new but have not always been labeled ethnographic. 14 Ergonomi Design Gruppen became Veryday but are now McKinsey Design. 80 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations Lastly, I do not see people who are cared for in ICIs as “consumers” (rather “flawed consumers”), and the primary aim of this dissertation is not product development. Nevertheless, this doctoral project’s findings can inform design- ers and stakeholders about the real needs of patients, clients, youths, and staff. Care and Incarceration: Opposing Frameworks? The theoretical approach described in this chapter is based on the work of my supervisor, Yngve Hammerlin, Dr. Philos and researcher of the Norweg ian prison services for almost forty years. In addition to his rich production of critical articles and books on the Norwegian prison system, and an important autobi- ographical work on men’s violence, Hammerlin holds a degree in art, which has brought his knowledge of drawing to the supervision of this thesis. In 2021, his book Hard Against the Hard, Soft Against the Soft 15 was published which brings a solid historical background to the Norwegian prison serv ices as well as critical discussions on its current state. Hammerlin unfolds in his writing how the Nor- wegian prison service is on one hand built on penal ideological principles, and on the other hand is built on care and (re)habilitation ideological principles. These frameworks stand in an internal dialectical relationship, both in practice and historically, that needs to be brought to the forefront to receive a broader understanding of the system. Moreover, Hammerlin discusses using the term habilitation rather than (re)habilitation as the latter indicates integration and an object perspective to the inmate, rather than a subject perspective (p. 417). Hammerlin emphasizes the importance of reflecting the different as- pects of security and how they are intertwined with punishment on physical, psychological, and organizational levels. The tension between punishment and care can be understood as two opposing forces in constant movement, and at times when these security systems are weakened and challenged, care practices are short-changed in favor of security, which leads to less positive care outcomes. This, Hammerlin points out, is a fault of new management-in- spired principles in which tight budgets, savings, efficiencies, rigid reporting systems, etc. threaten the prison service’s practice and care. 15 Translation of the title by Franz James 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations 81 The prison system (correctional care in institutions), historically speaking, follows two main tracks (ideologically speaking and in relation to practice structures and practice) PRISON SYSTEM MAIN TRACK 1 MAIN TRACK 2 Penal ideological principles (Re)habilitative ideological principles Care ideological principles (Penal enforcement, control measures, security measures, various Damage reduction and forms of discipline, forms of sanctions, principles of leniency disciplinary punishment, socio-material (Treatment, care measures, support measures, safety apparatus, technological and various impact and normalization administrative information and control forms of discipline ...) systems etc.) Open and hidden forms Dignity and humanity as international and national requirements System oriented Person oriented System adjusted Person adjusted Object perspective Subject perspective to the person to the person FIGUR E 7. Model of the Norwegian prison system’s main tracks. Copyright Yngve Hammerlin (2021). Translation from Norwegian to English by Franz James, 2023. In Hammerlin’s model of the Norwegian prison system (2021, p. 403) (Figure 7), the relationship between the two underlying ideologies of the sys- tem is illustrated in detail. The first, “main track 1,” represents the ideological principles that are executed against inmates. Here, punishment is not obtained solely by confinement but also through the interior design and materiality, com- plimented with tangible and non-tangible restrictions. In this way, both static and dynamic security constitute an ideologically repressive relational space. The second, “main track 2,” illustrates how the prison services’ rehabil- itation and care ideology is based on two interrelated principles: to mitigate harm that incarceration itself causes and to prepare the inmate for integration back into society. These are implemented, for example, through education, 82 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations rehabilitation programs, and vocational training. Furthermore, Hammerlin points out that many programs and care measures are more oriented and adapted to the system rather than person-oriented and person-adapted (p. 402). Additionally Hammerlin observes how economism as an ideological gov- erning element is constituted by management inspired ideas. This produces even more limited dispositions, general savings, and bureaucratic centralism which has saturated the Norwegian prison system for the last decades. This is prob- lematic as it will together with increased security measures requirements foster increased efficiency and savings on care and (re)habilitation efforts (p. 404). As stated earlier, apart from distributing punishment, a prison’s role is to (re)habilitate inmates to what is commonly called “normal” life. How- ever, what is meant by “normal” can be disputed, especially when under- stood as “returning” to previous everyday life. If this past was constituted by norm-braking behavior, it would be naïve to understand rehabilitation as recuperating to the former way of being; instead, rehabilitation would be about “normalizing” the person to a life without norm-braking behavior. Ribe-Nyhus (Ribe, 2020) gives yet another meaning to rehabilitation, sug- gesting that rehabilitation is an effort to deinstitutionalize the inmate from the harm that incarceration produces (p. 251). However, the term “normal- izing” needs to be used with caution as we need to ask, “Is it the prisoner, or is it prison conditions that have to be normalized?” (Hammerlin, 2018, p. 260). There is a risk otherwise, not least from a designer’s perspective, that we design the physical environment to correct certain behavior that is perceived as abnormal, such as rage and frustration or unwanted but not criminal behavior. Correcting behavior through design, including through security measures such as digital surveillance and cameras, is a major inter- vention in human existence. Caution is needed when “security” is imposed on a group of people with little agency. One would think that surveillance would be a large issue among users. However, in my fieldwork the question of camera surveillance has been surprisingly absent. Yet one observation I have made is that young girls in SiS homes have wished for cameras because they believe that cameras would protect them against sexual assault by staff. It is interesting to consider whether it would be possible to counterbalance one side’s power tools with a similar set of measures for the other side? To what extent is design an active agent in the deprivation of the self, causing both physical and existential pain? I recall these words by the Norwegian 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations 83 sociologist and criminologist Nils Christie (1981) that punishment is an intended “pain delivery.” Following Christie, it is important to remember that the design of the physical environment in ICIs is actually a matter of choice: design can be used as an ideological tool that can impact the degree of pain in one direction or another. From the 1980s to present, Hammerlin has continuously developed and updated the “Prisoner’s List of Losses” (2021, p. 559). The list is based on de- cades of interviews and conversations with prisoners, ex-prisoners, and staff. Although Hammerlin writes about the Norwegian prison system, the list of losses is, in my view, relevant to ICIs in general. In my own fieldwork, I have witnessed how youths, and patients share similar losses. What Liebling (2011) said regarding prisons speaks for ICIs too: “The pains of imprison- ment may vary by institution, jurisdiction and culture, and historical period, but some ‘essential features’ of imprisonment and generalized responses to those features also exist.” It is reasonable to expect that losses and pain delivery would be nega- tively affected by increased social density and double occupancy single cells, which is the reality today for the Swedish Prison and Probation Service, which plans to more than double the number of beds by 2032 (Kriminalvården, 2020). The shortage of cells in Swedish prisons in recent years therefore risks challenging the prison service’s approach to “humanism.” Current pol- itics that advocate increased incapacitation, new management philosophy, and economic restraint has led to a rushed production of standardized and cost-effective new units. These will be designed for two inmates in each cell, which lowers the cost of care but risks increasing illbeing through crowding and high social density (Wener, 2012, pp. 137–160). High secure prisons, in comparison to low secure open prisons, will reinforce inmate’s losses and pain (Hammerlin, 2015). The shortage of cells in Norway is not as critical as currently in Sweden. Still, the Norwegian prison service proposes to further centralize the organi- zation, which Hammerlin strongly criticizes, as it could lead to many open (low-security) prisons in rural locations would be shut down and merged with prisons that provide a higher level of security. Reducing the number of open prisons would, according to Hammerlin, contradict the distinctive Norwegian principle of allowing and encouraging inmates to progress from high-security to low-security open prisons (Hammerlin, 2021, p. 547). 84 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations PRISONERS’ LIST OF LOSSES o Loss of freedom / deprivation of power / powerlessness. Socio-material disciplinary system of control and power. o Forced to unwanted social relationships with others who are imprisoned, loss of security and safety. o Social exclusion. Loss of networks / relation and communication limitations. o Institutionalization / prisonization; the person becomes institution competent, not «life» competent. o Marginalization, isolation / social isolation, anonymization. o Incapacitation, inactivation, pacification, monotony. Incarceration is mentioned as a great force. o Destruction of competence, disqualification, degradation, class degradation or deterioration/stabiliza- tion of a bad position/life situation. o Social catastrophe, despair, anxiety, sorrow, frustration. o Loss of basic and normal life activities in society,; loss of possibilities to use certain commodities and services; loss of possibilities of developing competence; loss of qualifying experience and knowledge capital for productive and social activities in society. o Temporary, or constant loss of social relationships, externalization, disorientation, loss of perspective, diminishing and contracting perspective. Existential burden. o Loss of self-determination; (social) insecurity and unsafety; loss of freedom, loss of self-respect, self- confidence and self-worthiness. o Loss of stuff, artifacts, dysfunctions. o Loss of sexuality, love, being in love, relationships, caring. o Poverty, cultural poverty; a life in a «narrow» and culturally poor arena (prison arena). Restriction of life. o Physical, psychological and social deprivation (in a shape that stops development, sacrifice etc.) o Deprivation of creativity, deprivation of ethics — sometimes deprivation (moral deprivation). o Loss of being recognized as an equal human being / a human being in a vulnerable situation in life. o Dehumanization and experiences of institutional violations. Lack of acknowledgement. o Mortification process: threats and letting down personal integrity and social identity — humiliation and breaking down the person’s integrity. Stigmatization, deviation career, diagnoses. o Uncertain future. FIGU R E 8. Prisoners’ List of Losses. Copyright Yngve Hammerlin (2021). Translated from Norwegian to English by Franz James, 2023. I have observed and listened to numerous witnesses of inactivity, institution- alization, and self-loss due to incarceration ( James, 2017, 2018). Standard- ization of high-security environments tends to leave little room for the in- dividual to dwell and to keep and nurture the self (see Swedish prisons as Saltvik, Kumla, and Hall). However, there is one prison that stands out, even in an international context: Halden prison appears to be designed with a 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations 85 view of the inmate as subject rather than object. The prison in Halden offers both spatial variety and accessibility, as well as rehabilitating activities such as education, vocational training (cooking, etc.), wood workshop, music stu- dio, art studio, sports, and more. Halden is not only designed for rehabili- tating action but makes an ideological statement through its design. Yet, the scholar and former inmate of Halden prison Andreas Ribe-Nyhus debates the “normality” and the rehabilitative function of the “luxurious” prison. In his dissertation, Ribe-Nyhus (2020) is critical to both the open and hidden forms of punishment, irrespective of attempts to normalize security through design. Ribe-Nyhus states further that life in prison is significantly governed by the locking regime, carceral architecture, and restrictions to the body. Moreover, he questions the necessity of progression from closed high-secu- rity prisons to open prisons, as the former’s repressive security measures are intended to produce pain, whether or not the inmate is considered an escape risk. The point Ribe-Nyhus makes is that juridical punishment today is ex- ercised through loss of freedom, not consciously inflicted pain. Similarly to Ribe-Nyhus’ reflections, Bradley (2021) who interviewed inmates in an Aus- tralian prison found that the inmates opinion was that a prison should not attempt to stage itself as anything else than what it is. However, according to the interviewees a prison may borrow the functions of the outside world and the structure and functions of a village, but not the village’s aesthetics. These perspectives suggest, in my interpretation, that an open and honest prison physical environment that is not trying to be anything else but what it is, is preferable compared to a design that has a high sense of “normality” and domestic features in which coexistent contradictory ideologies are cov- ered up as witnessed by the inmate John K (K, 2018) “Location, colour and furniture are no substitute for the need of humans to feel that they belong, to be accepted, to be recognized and possibly even forgiven.” One may ask if prisons and SiS homes in their current design, ideology, and organization have a future at all, especially considering the rather high rate of recidivism and the harm that imprisonment causes. Will there be new prisons designed in the coming decades or will they be supplanted by other logics? Hammerlin (2021, pp. 517–519) gives two perspectives on the fu- ture of prisons. First, the “yes perspective” advocates for a continuation of the prison system as it is. Some advocate for harder punishments. This perspective 86 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations is primarily occupied with the execution of the punishment, a safe society, a systematic control of society, and the opinion of the public. Even with alter- native punishments, such as digital surveillance, open prisons, or community service, the secure prisons maintain their justification as one of several pun- ishment methods, according to the yes perspective. The “no perspective,” on the other hand, regards punishment through incarceration as harmful, inhu- mane, and unworthy our time. Nor do low treatment outcomes support the system in its current form. The dichotomy between care and incarceration can again be identified in the discussion about the future of prison. The Norwegian prison system, according to Hammerlin, displays an unwillingness to acknowledge and re- lease its carceral roots. The prison service may imply its ability to bridge the duality between care and incarceration with “humanistic” labelling, but again it gets caught in the reproduction of a systematic dichotomy. One of the prob- lematic issues with the standardization and centralization of prisons is the inherent difficulty of upholding the progression from high-security to low-se- curity units – what Hammerlin calls a “progression of redemption” (p. 520). With the current design of many prisons (and other ICIs), hidden or visible perimeters prevent the combination of diverse security classifications under one roof. This means that units with lower security classification to a certain degree must comply with security measures aimed for high-security units. Moreover, Hammerlin emphasizes that modern technology will be funda- mental for future prisons security, but that it already appears to be a tendency towards static security measures rather than dynamic, which risks weakening the (re)habilitative social relationship between staff and inmates (p. 520). There are several ethical considerations for the dichotomy between care and incarceration, and for the designer who has the task of bringing these oppos- ing forces together (a designer’s dilemma and a wicked problem). In the next chapter, I will discuss this dissertation’s ethical considerations both in the field of design and in the field of research. 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations 87 Ethical Considerations Design and Ethics Victor Papanek (1971) defined design by stating, “Design is basic to all hu- man activities” (p. 320). By this broad definition, he emphasized design’s power and potential to achieve environmental, political, and social change (not a small load to bear for designers). The suggestion that designers have an ethical obligation to do good and achieve change is an underlying, somewhat implicit mission that saturates the practice of design, design research, design discourse, and design education. Papanek is not the only authority on the re- sponsibilities that come with design, though he was one of the pioneers; the design processes discussed earlier, such as participatory design, are also well grounded ethically and ideologically. Papanek warned us of the consequences of consumerism and pointed to the ethically challenging role the designer plays in the political apparatus of producing desirable commodities while people in developing countries lack the basics for survival. He meant that the designer should work in these areas where design could address “real world” problems. Papanek’s writing was ex- tremely critical to design and for its outcome he envisioned a future in which: We will be forced (like it or not) toward better, saner and more energy-saving tools and devices simply because we cannot afford any other kind. We will make things in a more decentralized and participatory way, in environments better suited to our minds, bodies and tasks. (Papanek and Hennessey, 1977, p. 14) It is provocative to read Victor Papanek more than forty (!) years later, as we are still being “forced” to make the kinds of changes he suggests but have not yet (re)acted sufficiently. Now, in the age of the Anthropocene, how do we define design and the designer’s role? Scholars have written about design’s role in society and the conflict between designing yet another commodity leading to environmental catastrophe and the importance of a sustainable approach to materials and resources (Dilnot, 2017; McDonough, 2002; Monteiro, 2017; Tonkinwise, 2005). Designers are constantly reminded that “all de- signers, as specifiers, are implicit in resource use and so have a key role to play in averting resource depletion” (Fuad-Luke, 2009, p. 61). Others are more in line with the alternative ways of building a sustainable society that Papanek suggested. When he wrote, Design for the Real World: Human Ecology and 88 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations Social Change in 1972, it was a political statement. It was an era that set off much of what we have seen in recent decades in broadened fields of design and design methods, such as product sharing systems, DIY, participatory design, sustainable design, and design for human survival in developing countries, as well as shelters and refugee camps. Another reason it makes sense to reflect on Papanek’s writings is to ac- knowledge the shift in the development of design and specifically the designer’s role, which is forced to adapt to an increased demand for creating meaningful and sustainable products, be they physical, virtual, or services. One reflection of this increased demand, which I see among design stu- dents, is a struggle among designers and design educators over whether the primary purpose of the practice is to design physical products. Donald Schön (1991, p. 89) comments the development of the designer’s broadening field with skepticism, but sees opportunities as well: It is questionable how far in this direction we ought to go. We risk ignoring or under- estimating significant differences in media, contexts, goals, and bodies of knowledge specific to the profession. But we may also discover, at a deeper level, a generic design process which underlies these differences. Although Schön wrote this decades ago, it provides background for how the designer’s role in designing physical products has developed and asks ques- tions about what happens if the designer’s role and design educations lose the specialized knowledge of designing material stuff ? Parsons (2016, pp. 129-145) puts forward three levels to suggest how designers can orient themselves within the field of ethics. These three levels can be understood as a suggestion to move away from seeing ethics as guide- lines and start defining ethics as an overarching philosophical subject for design. According to Parsons, the first level relates to the designer’s outcome (the objects created) as well as the rules, regulations, and norms the designer will need to negotiate and stay in line with. The second level relates to what designers choose to create and brings in the issue of sustainability and consum- erism. Finally, the third level discusses how, or if, objects can be understood as non-human moral agents that directs us. This third level brings forward the intentional aspect of design’s role in shaping and directing people’s everyday lives. It posits design as an agent, even a subject, that goes beyond the shape of both physical and non-physical 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations 89 objects, which also addresses the designer’s ambiguity of shaping lives. How- ever, Parsons concludes that by the end of the day, morality lies in human decision-making. Ethical issues are treated by designers’ and architects’ organizations through codes of ethics that serve as guidelines for their members. A brief search shows that the issues addressed are predominantly professionalism, virtue, and the member’s obligation to comply with legal matters. Ethical guidelines mostly address policies of gender, race, environmental concerns, and health and safety. Some organizations, such as Design Sweden, appear to have no documented code of ethics. Furthermore, there are design studios that address the messier ethical questions, such as Mike Monteiro at Mule Design Studio (US), who formulated “A Designer’s Code of Ethics” (Monteiro, 2017). The content is pointed and touches more upon a “deontological approach” to the designer’s responsibility on a personal level rather than as a practitioner in a members’ organization. On the other hand, Monteiro’s point may be assumed to problematize ethics as extending beyond the narrow confines of professional practice. He gives examples of explicitly moral questions: “We cannot be surprised when a gun we designed kills someone. We cannot be surprised when a database we de- signed to catalog immigrants gets those immigrants deported”. An example of another emotive ethical question that has attracted at- tention in the field of design for ICIs, and specifically prison design, was the critique by Architects/Designers/Planners for Social Responsibility (A D- SPR) directed at the American Institute of Architects (A I A) on spaces in supermax prisons. The critique concerned A I A’s code of ethics, which did not explicitly stipulate that American architects shall not participate in de- signing spaces that contribute to human rights violations, and especially those that are “intended for execution or for torture or other cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment or punishment, including prolonged solitary confine- ment”(AiA). After six years of debate, the A I A revised its Code of Ethics and Professional Conduct in 2018 by including the statement that “Mem- bers shall not engage in conduct involving wanton disregard of the rights of others” (A I A Code of Ethics and Professional Conduct, rule 1.402). A DSPR commented, “Who can doubt that designing a space where someone will be killed or tortured shows ‘wanton disregard for the rights of ’ the victims in those spaces?” (A DPSR, 2018). 90 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations Is this discussion between two American organizations at all relevant for designer’s ethical dilemmas? From a Swedish perspective, it may look at first like the debate has no relevance for the Scandinavian context. However, on one hand it is not possible to overlook that ICIs are co-producers of pain (Hammerlin, 2021), and on the other hand it is not possible to overlook that ICIs are society’s answer to treating and caring for individuals’ existential pain, self-destructive behavior, severe mental illness, and criminal acts. Mon- teiro’s gun example quoted previously was perhaps overly explicit, but what if the product to be designed was less lethal, like a seclusion bed – a piece of furniture that can be a tool for serious misconduct. Designers, like everyone else, hear one story after another about the misuse of seclusion and isolation. Hence, “choosing” to design for such treatment (which to a certain degree is a naïve way of framing an assignment) contains a moral dilemma, especially if the architects or designers are not familiar with the aspects of care in ICIs. On a personal level, I have struggled with the above example and con- cluded that the pros of designing a seclusion bed did outweigh the cons. Fur- thermore, as I had full trust in the client’s ambition to reduce seclusion through alternative use of space, which the bed’s new design offered, I could see that both patients and staff benefitted. By offering either seclusion or de-escalation, I overcame my reluctance to design such an object. However, when reflect- ing on my moral dilemma, I can see that my lack of knowledge was more of a problem than the perceived moral dilemma. Nevertheless, it is hard to find guidelines in organizations’ ethical codes to navigate through this example. I do not intend to review different professions’ ethical guidelines; how- ever, in relation to the designer’s profession, as an employee or consultant, we may ask where responsibility lies and how power is distributed in decision making. A design process that results in a physical or service product is pri- marily ended when the design is frozen (final stage of decision on the design) and ready to go into production. Juridical, environmental, and trade stan- dards and safety aspects have most likely been reviewed during the process. Is it reasonable to expect that a designer who has designed a piece of furniture or technical equipment shall foresee poor working conditions or ruthless ex- ploitation of material resources? When the product is put in use, where does the responsibility for its actions lie? Is it as simple as Mike Monteiro stated? 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations 91 Research Ethics Involving people in research always brings issues that need to be balanced by decisions on how and what type of questions, methods, and participant groups are involved (Vetenskapsrådet, 2017). Research ethics are generally based on the World Medical Association Declaration of Helsinki – Ethical Principles for Medical Research Involving Human Subjects, 16 which was initially adopted in 1964 and has been revised several times since, most recently in 2013. Even though the Helsinki declaration is specific to medical research, its content is in general applicable to all research. The declaration exhorts re- searchers to “promote and ensure respect for all human subjects and protect their health and rights”, to ensure that research subjects are not sacrificed in the name of new research, to safeguard anonymity and confidentiality, and to mini- mize environmental harm. Paragraphs 19 and 20 specifically address vulnerable groups, stating that “medical research with a vulnerable group is only justified if the research is responsive to the health needs or priorities of this group and the research cannot be carried out in a non-vulnerable group”. People who are in care in ICIs are no doubt a vulnerable group, not only because of their illness or cognitive or intellectual disabilities, but also due to the imbalance of power between the researcher and the research subject that comes with incarceration. Studies in ICIs generally require an approval by the university’s ethical review board. Kvale (2007) sees the value of the review process as an opportu- nity to think through ethical challenges and believes the application and pro- cess encourage reaching out to more senior researchers for advice. Patients and clients in ICIs are in “subordinate positions” (Hammersley & Atkinson, 2007, p. 42), which calls for researcher’s watchfulness of non-first-hand consent. Spe- cifically, research persons under fifteen years of age shall have parental consent. I was coauthor for the application for the SiS research project, and I wrote the application for the ethical approval for Paper I: “It’s All but Home, It’s Hell!…”. That application for SiS covers Papers IV and V “Designing for Care: Employing Ethnographic Design Methods at Special Care Homes for Young Offenders – A Pilot Study” and “‘Fit and Re-orientation’: Carceral Heritage in Contemporary Design of Special Residential Homes for Youth, and Its Impact on Well-Being.” 16 https://www.wma.net/policies-post/wma-declaration-of-helsinki-ethical-principles-for- medical-research-involving-human-subjects/ 92 4. Methodological and Theoretical Considerations Paper III: “‘It’s Important to Not Lose Myself ’: Beds, Carceral Design and Women’s Everyday Life Within Prison Cells,” after discussion with su- pervisors and the prison services, did not require an ethical approval. Finally, Paper II: “‘Sketch and Talk’ – An Ethnographic Design Method Opening Closed Institutions” contained data in the form of sketches and interviews, but there was not an ethical approval for this data. The data derives from the first period of fieldwork, which followed ethical guidelines; however, at the time neither I, the HDK-Valand Academy of Art and Design, nor the foren- sic hospital had sufficient knowledge or awareness to address the question of ethical approval. In research with minors, the sociologists Källström and Andersson Bruck stress that children are to be respected in their own right of being children and not seen as becoming adults. Therefore, research with children needs to have the perspective of the child rather than an adult researcher trying to apply a child’s perspective. This means that the researcher conducts research with, and not on, children. Furthermore, the researcher shall respect the child as an in- dividual, not as part of a homogenic group (Källström & Andersson Bruck, 2017). People that are in compulsory care are a vulnerable group, and so are children and adolescents by definition. The importance of self-reflection in considering structural differences between the researcher and the informants should not be underestimated (Fangen, 2005). In the context of ICIs, this would speak for methods that clearly display ethical aspects. The methods used in this doctoral project have commonly been conducted in situ and with repeated sessions to collect rich data, and openly displaying the sketches images adds an ethical dimension in that the research subject can inspect the data. 93 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development Drawing the 1970s All my life, I’ve been sitting down with a sketchbook now and then at dif- ferent locations. My mother used to paint watercolor outdoors. She would bring a small metal box with twelve colors, a couple of brushes, and a bottle of freshwater. We would usually be on the island of Tjörn, where we rented a rustic (close to collapse) and “charismatic” nineteenth-century cottage. My mother would continue to paint in the evenings at a wooden table that was worn to a shine. A glass of wine, cigarettes, candles, and the radio’s classical music program P2 would accompany, or we would listen to the songs of the time (I had no choice): Victor Jara, Simon and Garfunkel, and the album Songs about Women. I would do my sketches, read a book or a comic, and drink Lap Sang tea with honey from the nearby farmer. This might sound romanticized enough to make readers roll their eyes. However, all the props and stuff we lived with was – like all stuff – an expression and a staging of identity, culture, economics, politics, ideology, and class. But as I recall now, most of all the stuff made a good place for dwelling. For many in my generation, the kids of the alternative and leftist generation of the 1960s and 70s, our lifeworlds were shaped by our parents’ anti- capitalist and anti-consumerist lifestyle. A vital part of this lifestyle was DIY (chipboard furniture), buying local produce (honey, milk, and vegetables), playing at every age (board games, puppet theatre, frisbee), listening to loud music (and danc- ing), and doing crafts together. A family, a group of friends, or a community would make stuff together, such as papier-mâché puppets, outdoor huts, sloyd figurative objects or butter knives, and kites. We kids were always part of the late-night party, and we listened to the adults’ relationship crises. We were part of whatever was going on, and a lot what went on was in the open, for good or ill. Earlier in the introduction I wrote about the familiarity of visiting ICIs as a child, adolescent, and young adult. Quite a few of the people in our so- cial community, as well as in our family, lived with mental illnesses of various 94 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development degrees. Some of these friends and family would commonly be in and out of psychiatric hospitals and they would be heavily medicated at times. Others struggled with alcoholism or drugs. However, their lived experiences of men- tal illness or substance abuse was relatively open within the community and family. This was, to my mind, not the way previous generations handled this part of what it is to be human – just think of the term “bad nerves.” So what does this have to do with sketching, with talking, or with sketch- ing and talking in ICIs? First, sketching and drawing was a common thing to do. It became natural with time to bring a sketchbook. Second, people with mental illness or eccentric ways of being were an undisputed part of the com- munity. Their being was part of what it means to be human. Third, art, craft, DIY, politics, solidarity with marginalized groups, and the social collective- ness encouraged me to be curious about people’s lives and to ask questions about “what is actually going on.” In my mid-teens, as a student in art school in San Francisco, I was trained to draw by Mr. Farnsworth. This elegant man, probably in his 50s or 60s, would collect our drawings and give us a grade, which he noted on the paper. This was old school teaching at its best, pure and simple training. My friends and I would also draw comics and play around with different characters. In the 1970s and 80s, underground comics and graphic novels were flourishing. We were inspired by Gilbert Shelton’s “fabulous furry freak brothers,” Bill Griffith’s “Zippy the Pinhead,” Jean Mœbius Giraud’s “Blueberry,” and Stefano Tam- burini and Tanino Liberatore’s “RanXerox.” We invented comic characters and drew obscene stories that gave us hysterical laughs and parallel worlds to explore. In the classroom adjacent to Mr. Farnsworth’s, we had Mr. Lillef in design. We would do technical drawing and design tasks (that we thought were pretty stupid at the time). Back in Sweden, I continued with the comics and obscene sketches but also figure drawing and other techniques. I preferred the pen and pencil to painting, but I was never a skilled illustrator, then or now. Sketching became both a tool for design and what it is to design – the meaning and meaningfulness of designing. It was also a way to make time pass and at the same time to enter a temporal, corporal, and spatial state of flow where time ceases to exist. There were transitions from drawing to sketching and from sketching to drawing. Sketching was a tool in my furniture making and design education, and later in my practice as a designer. However, sketching is more than a means 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 95 FIGUR E 9. Harbor in Molivos. The situatedness and temporal aspect of a sketch is a readable feature. Reading the sketch from Molivos harbor and then the sketch from Sun City prison (Figure 10), the drawn lines’ gestures and texture will give different narratives to the situations, but also different interpretations. Sketch by Franz James, 2002. 96 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development for communication or documentation; it is a tool for thinking, but even more than so. Cross (2007, p. 38) observes, “drawing is a kind of intelligence am- plifier,” a tool to think through and explore “what if ” (Cross, 2011,Watching What Designers Do section). However, sketching is a tool that lends itself to other occasions as well. In my case, it has been an act of documenting, primarily when visiting other countries. Those sketches become embodied with the atmosphere of the place and occasion, and so they are internalized and can be opened up at any time. Sketching takes time, at least for landscape drawings like the one in Figure 9. Landscape drawing differs from life drawing or generating design ideas, and the place is much of the matter that is engraved to the paper. The reader cannot see the place where I drew the sketch of the harbor in Molivos, Greece. Nor is my son Joel visible (he was sitting next to me). But to me that is the strongest memory of sitting on the warm concrete pier. The sketch cap- tured the sound of waiters setting the tables for the evening’s guests. It recalls the special atmosphere of afternoon coming into evening. The slowing down in preparing for the rush of people and food. Needless to say, I would not be able to recall all this through a photo. The young woman at Sun City prison told me what makes a home for her (Figure 10). She said that it is “love,” “warmth,” and a “sense of be- longing” – exactly what I felt sitting there on the pier with my son. All that is conserved in the Molivos sketch for me. However, what is conserved in the sketch from the young woman’s cell at Sun City is all opposite to that feeling. Where was her daughter, where was love, where was her sense of belonging? Could she dwell there? Could she experience wellness? I think that could be possible. That is the sense I got from our meeting, but I may be completely wrong. A Multimethod Design Method Since the early stages of this project, at the time when I sketched and talked with inmates at Sun City prison, sketching and talking simultaneously has developed from a tool for documentation into a method that incorporates socio-spatial situatedness, interviews/talk, observation/participant observa- tion, documentation, and pre-analysis. 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 97 FIGUR E 10. Young woman’s cell, Johannesburg Prison. The cell was in a ward where only teenage and young adult women lived. The order and interior were strikingly different and more caring than the men’s ward. In addition to curtains and pillows, the corridors had bright, colorful mu- rals. Sketch by Franz James, 2014. 98 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development Sketch and Talk can be seen an umbrella that encompasses different meth- ods that are sometimes intertwined, sometimes on their own (see Figure 11). FIGUR E 11. Umbrella model of the Sketch and Talk method. For this doctoral project, I did not initially set up a methodological map or a plan to use certain methods. On the other hand, I was not totally unprepared when entering the field. Methods such as participant observation and inter- viewing were, from a designer’s horizon, given methods that I intuitively used during my first period of fieldwork at the forensic psychiatric hospital (2015). Although it was developed in and for ICIs, I see no reason why Sketch and Talk cannot be adapted to other disciplines and contexts, such as educational settings, health care, organizational studies, etc. The umbrella model above is an attempt to visualize the methods, actions, and tools that constitute Sketch and Talk. Talking (interviewing) and partic- ipant observation are commonly recognized as ethnographic methods used when going into the field “where other people live and work” (Czarniawska, 2007). However, designers and users do not always speak the same language. The design theorist Pelle Ehn (1988) discusses what he defines as different “language games” of the designer and the user and suggests, “If designers and users share the same form of life it should be possible to overcome the gap between the different language-games.” This shared life/going into the field is what designers have practiced for decades and can be understood either as a designerly skill or as ethnographic fieldwork within the discipline of design. Sketch and talk combines several methods or tools that produce a “thick description” (Kwame Harrison, 2018, p. 29) of different types of data. 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 99 A phenomenological perspective that speaks for a multimethod/intertwined method of design is Bremer and Dahlberg’s (2019) observation that the life- world’s state of non-reflection is not applicable in research. In research, “brack- eting” or “holding your horses” 17 is necessary. Therefore, they suggest that researchers need to expand their methods/tools to not solely rely on one of them. Researchers need to deploy multiple tools for an understanding of the complexity of the phenomena. Otherwise, there is a risk that their presump- tions shadow deeper layers of shared experiences. This is also why talk is vital – it gives the researcher the participant’s own words for the experience. If re- searchers only make observations, for example, they are bound to their own words, which would leave a thin description. Sketch and talk can be understood as a temporal, spatial, corporal, and relational process. The model (Figure 12. Sketch and Talk: a temporal, spa- tial, corporal, and relational process.) is as a tool to think by, but also to think through “what actually goes on” when using the method. The ongoing can- not be described in a simple way; it is complex by nature. The two models (Figures 11 and 12) of the “ongoing” are an attempt to visualize the process but also to encourage a discussion. Again, I find it helpful to apply a phenomenological perspective to the ongoing. Dahlberg observes how “the meaning is disclosed in the researching act that takes place between the researcher and the phenomenon” (Dahlberg, 2006). It is this in-between space, or through a phenomenological understand- ing the intentionality, where the meaningfulness connecting us is found. In the process of Sketch and Talk, the researcher is connected to the participant, the sketchbook, and the object/stuff; however, since we are connected, the making of the sketch is in turn co-produced by the four “subjects.” Neither the researcher, the participant, the sketchbook, or the object/stuff can be re- moved, or the ongoing would lose its essence. The immateriality of the in-between space that is shared by the persons and the object is identified by Kashanipour (2021b) as the “third figure.” Through this identification she sheds light on the metaphysical and intangible space and borders that are created. Similarly, Taussig (2009) recalls the act of sketching and simultaneously being aware of the becoming of an object: “It’s like a three-way conversation is going on between the drawer, the thing drawn, 17 The author’s translation of Bremer and Dahlberg’s Swedish term tygla. 100 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development and the hypothetical viewers.” Now, there is something interesting about the gaze and perception. When engaged in the act of life drawing or drawing a person in fieldwork, Kashanipour experiences how her gaze and consciousness are met by the person’s gaze. Drawing the other person becomes an interac- tivity of shared consciousness in which “drawing people is not only a practice of seeing but also of being seen” (Kashanipour, 2021b). FIGUR E 12 . Sketch and Talk: a temporal, spatial, corporal, and relational process. When I sketch stuff, I do it with a shared consciousness. However, the focus is not on the person; instead, we share a mutual consciousness of a becoming object (the sketch) and the lived experience of the person with the stuff. Al- though I sometimes sketch the person, I am explicit that I am interested in the contours of the body and the body’s spatial and corporal interaction with the interior, not the person’s identity. I believe this may alleviate some of the strain of being seen by me, as well as the person’s feeling of obligation to meet the gaze I otherwise would have had. Sometimes, I believe, the space creates a form of implicit closeness and intimacy where secrets can be shared, as when Nina shared her experience of traveling beyond the walls or when the girl in Figure 13 shared that her room makes her feel like “somebody wants to do something bad to her.” Sometimes the space creates an openness where strong personal opinions can be explicitly and forcefully stated. It is as if the space grows to an arena or theatre where opinions and narratives come alive, and they come alive because they want to be heard. Maybe it is overstating somewhat to say that sketching draws borders for a certain type of space where freedom of speech is facilitated; on 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 101 the other hand, that might be exactly what the borders and the ongoing do. Within the circle, a shared space is created. It may be a space created by invisible borders around the ongoing, or it may be a space enclosed by the physical walls of the room. In the process, the space can stretch out past the invisible walls, the walls of the room, the walls of the institution, and of time and relationships as well. No matter how far the meaning-making is stretched out, we are still gathered around the research of the phenomena, and by exten- sion the research questions. And we are gathered around the process of mak- ing the sketches of shared meanings. Furthermore, the space that is created maintains a mutual agreement of attendance and focus through the agreement of taking part in the process, based on trust. And if the agreement is ended, so is the sketching, and so too the mutual borders of the space are dissolved. The created space is never the same, which is the beauty as well as the challenge of meeting people. Since Sketch and Talk is constituted by several methods or tools, one or another of them can be elevated, thus making the method adaptive to the changing temporal, spatial, corporal, and relational process. When it is difficult to talk, the sketching can be the focus; when it is difficult to sketch, the talking can be the focus. When participant observa- tion does not work, the sketchbook can be opened and the focus can be on the sketching, and so on. Ethnographic Methods Fieldwork During this doctoral project I have visited 48 ICIs. 18 Alongside the doctoral project, my practice as a designer has allowed me to visit ICIs in different cultural and geographical contexts. As mentioned in Paper II, visiting the high-security prison in Johannesburg known as “Sun City” in 2014 was the catalyst for my method development but also an insight into the similarities, differences, and a broadened understanding of socio-material carceral space. All in all, I have visited ICIs in eight countries: Sweden, Norway, Denmark, 18 Of the prisons, one held both men, women, and youth, and one had a halfway house. Of the psychiatric hospitals, one had forensic psychiatric care. All in all, not counting the ones with different populations twice, I have visited 48 different institutions. 102 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development FIGUR E 13. “I cry in here” and in jail “I lost my self.” A young teenage girl in a SiS home. Sketch by Franz James, 2018. 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 103 Canada, USA, UK, South Africa, and the Czech Republic. During these types of visits, and the more planned research occasions, it is important to not un- derestimate the value of small talk, as these informal situations may grant data that otherwise might not be available, and in addition create allyship with a participant before, during, or after interviews (Lambley, 2021). Apart from planned research visits or visits through practice, information has been col- lected in meetings and seminars with different governmental agencies and their branches, such as the Swedish and Norwegian prison services, the Swedish National Board of Institutional Care (SiS), the Public Art Agency Sweden (Statens konstråd), and the Swedish National Board of Housing, Building and Planning (Boverket). Furthermore, meetings have been held with deci- sion makers from governmental and regional branches in UK, the Czech Re- public, and Canada. However, the main part of research has been conducted in special residential youth homes and forensic psychiatric hospitals, less at prisons and psychiatric hospitals. None of the papers build on material from a psychiatric hospital that is not a forensic psychiatric hospital. My main ma- terial and experience of psychiatric hospitals come from my practice. During these years, I have visited three psychiatric hospitals for children and done fieldwork at one as a consultant in a design project, and I have done interior design for another. I have visited three prisons for youth, two in Norway and one in Denmark. Listed below are the different types of ICIs I have visited: • 6 forensic psychiatric hospitals • 16 psychiatric hospitals • 9 special residential youth homes • 3 psychiatric hospitals for children • 3 prisons for women • 6 prisons for males • 4 prisons for youth • 2 halfway houses • 3 jails Doing fieldwork means going to the place where the phenomenon of inves- tigation is located and participating with the people whose lived experiences 104 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development FIGUR E 14. Johannesburg Prison. A mother-with-baby ward. Twelve mothers with their babies (up to 3–4 years old) shared a room. The beds were along two walls with not much space between them. I asked one of the mothers what makes a home. She said, “A mother makes a home,” then told me she felt they had no human rights, and the children’s favorite color was brown – that’s what the guards wore. She went on to say that the children knew the guards had all the power, so they looked to the guards when they wanted to do something. Sketch by Franz James, 2014. 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 105 the researcher wants to understand. To do so, the researcher needs to take one step back to take one step forward – into the field (Czarniawska, 2014, p. 20). Fieldwork enables an inside/outside perspective that is needed to discover “what really goes on” (Hammersley, 2015). Hammersley discusses further how much of a “real insider” the ethnographic researcher can be in prison fieldwork. There are others with firsthand experience that would be more qualified, such as staff that work there or the inmates themselves. The term “marginal native” is used by Hammersley to highlight how far it is reasonable for the researcher to expect to be “inside.” However, the point is not always to be as close as possible, but rather to reflect the “dialectic between being an outsider and an insider” (pp. 21–39). Furthermore, fieldwork means having a curiosity for the other and taking their witness and experiences as import- ant, or more important than the researcher’s own experiences (Czarniawska, 2014, p. 20). Furthermore, being in the field assures important unscheduled time for “ethnographical interviews” (Munz, 2017) on spatial and situational turf that is controlled by the respondent. These unplanned interviews are im- portant because they give the opportunity “to learn from the interviewees in their own words and, when possible, on their terms” (p. 457). Getting access to the field of ICIs can be challenging. However, negative responses have surprisingly been rare when I have asked to visit ICIs, with one exception: it has been impossible to visit high-security prisons in the US. Still, gaining access is to a high degree dependent on trust. In research, and specif- ically in qualitative research, it is paramount to establish trust between the researcher and the research subject, and not least the gatekeepers. However, trust is not solely created between the researcher and the research subject. Guillemin et al. (2018) found that trust similarly related to the institution with which the researcher is affiliated. In retrospect, it is not unthinkable that the combination of my methods and the university I represent has had a positive influence on gaining access. It might be that a researcher from an artistic faculty is somewhat novel to the facil- ity and may not (yet) be associated with “hostile” critical studies. Institutions or communities that are subject to frequent researcher presence “might rightfully question the intentions” (Kwame Harrison, 2018, p. 69) of new researchers, especially if they have experienced bad representation or feel exploited. Fur- thermore, the methods that are used in this project might be more attractive to accept from an institution’s security perspective and participants than a team 106 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development FIGUR E 15. Rampton forensic psychiatric hospital, UK. This “ultra-carceral” institution can be described as an antithesis to forensic psychiatric hospitals like Rågården in Gothenburg. On this ward, the interior of the patient room and the ensuite bathroom was molded fiberglass furniture. Sketch by Franz James, 2016. 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 107 with researchers who wish to document with video and digital recordings. Access is also a negotiation about who the researcher becomes and how the researcher is identified. The construction of the researcher’s identity fol- lows a line of status, not least by representation of the academic world. As an outsider, rather than trying to be accepted as an insider, it can be acceptable to ask questions about the obvious because the role is evidently overt. When you are clearly not a part of the prison authority, you could be “an outsider looking in” (Harvey, 2015). Moreover, “negotiations are shaped by the nature of the research project and the particulars of the community they are seek- ing to engage” (Kwame Harrison, 2018, p. 64). A pragmatic approach to the choice of method is therefore needed to can gain admittance to the field, as well as an awareness of the non-negotiable circumstances and how they may affect the quality and design of the research. As an example, audio recording devices are usually not permitted, which could cause researchers to choose in- stitutions other than the intended ( J. Sloan, 2015). Moreover, spatial, ethical, and contextual restrictions will ordinarily exclude access to isolation or acute wards. However, given the other side of the coin – restrictions can be based on ethical considerations as well – it is difficult to see why people who are severely ill and/or in existential pain should be exposed, except by their own choice. Then again, restrictions leave gaps in the research about the existential pain and circumstances that incarceration and isolation bring. Environments such as isolation rooms, “separate care” (for youths), and seclusion rooms have been accessible to me on several occasions, primarily without patients, clients, or youths present. However, there have been excep- tions when patients have been present. Situations like these create ethical di- lemmas on several levels, but they have also sparked change: on one occasion, our SiS research team was given access to a separate care area, which resulted in immediate change to the humiliating and poor environment for the youth who lived there (Nolbeck et al., 2019). ICIs are, unfortunately, understood as hidden and shameful places as- sociated with the stigma (Moran, 2012) and shame (Hammerlin, 2019) of criminality, mental illness, drug abuse, and the incarceration itself. Foucault (1991) underpins the norm-making power in the visual symbol of the prison, intentionally visually and physically impermeable. The deterrent effect created by the exterior of many of these institutions will most likely deter researchers as well. Not even Halden Prison’s exterior is free from such semantic language. 108 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development The mystification and mythologizing may, in one way or another, compromise the researcher’s choice of method in exchange for access, in my view. Thus, the deterrent effect of the carceral interior and exterior design may restrict how, when, or if research can be conducted. Sloan and Wright (2015) problema- tize the deterrent effect of the organizational and physically impermeable institution for doctoral prison researchers: “Yet prisons, often austere and imposing structures, are designed to deter, and it seems somewhat naïve that a first-time researcher could enter such a cold institution and feel perfectly at home…” (p. 151). Moreover, when access has been approved it does not mean that the field is open. At every level of decision-making, on every ward, and with every group of staff, access many times needs to be re-negotiated – hence, the researcher cannot take access for granted even when it is given initially (Fangen, 2005, p. 63). Furthermore, access does not give the right to observe, interview, or participate with patients, inmates, or youths if they show any sign of reluctance or doubt, whether they have signed an informed consent or not. In special residential youth homes in particular, violent behavior or sud- den emotional outbursts are common and can hinder access for a substantial period. For the researcher, this means that access constantly needs to be re-ne- gotiated on several levels. Fieldwork at these homes is in constant flux ( James & Olausson, 2018). It is not possible to know, for instance, if observation or shadowing will or can take place (Hammersley & Atkinson, 2007, p. 4) Fieldwork at ICIs is therefore dependent on an open and explorative approach, with less detailed plans for data collection and the work to come. Luck, time, endurance, openness, and experience are necessary personal qual- ities for researchers in ICIs. Furthermore, fieldwork is dependent on four fac- tors, according to Schatzman and Strauss (as cited in Fangen, 2005, p. 55): “choice of place, time, persons and occasions.” From my experience, meeting with a participant in an ICI is very much up to their current state. On several occasions, meetings have been cancelled due to increased illness. Unfortunately, meetings cannot always be postponed if the period of access has run out, or if the researcher’s time for field studies has come to an end. Hence, access to ICIs is constituted by a hierarchy of gatekeepers and factors that many times are out of the researcher’s control. 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 109 FIGUR E 16. Sketch of the isolation room at Björgvin youth prison, Norway. I never thought I would say something like this, but it’s one of the most well-designed isolation rooms I have seen. It has several very well thought through features that most similar rooms lack. It has plywood paneling on the left side, daylight window in a position that allows a view from different heights, and there are no 90-degree corners (which is said to mitigate the risk of severe head injuries if one rams one’s head into the corner). Furthermore, the door opening is wide enough for staff and youth to pass through at once, the surveillance window is large and displays clearly when one is being watched, the room is large enough to afford bodily movement to ease anxiety or rage, and lastly the concrete floor is decorated with the silhouette of birds in motion. Sketch by Franz James, 2019. 110 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development FIGUR E 17. Visiting a halfway house in Los Angeles. I asked the man how he liked his bed. He answered, “You ask a simple question, but it’s not simple. No other bed to compare with.” As I remember, he emphasized that he had forgotten what an “ordinary” bed felt like. There were three men living in a rather spacious room (compared to a cell). The restrictions were rock hard. The atmosphere was thick with nervousness and caution. The feeling I got was that the inmates knew that if they didn’t comply with the rules, they would be back in prison by the next day. The halfway house was private and run by G4S. The warden and staff were open and friendly as they welcomed my visit. Sketch by Franz James, 2015. 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 111 Talking About Stuff, Interviews When sketching and talking, I use open, semi-structured questions. The in- terviews are in the format of a conversation with follow-up questions and an openness for off-topic talk, although the conversations are carefully brought back to the experience of the interior and objects. “Openness” is also a re- minder to me to see and respect reality as shared by the person I’m talking with (Trost, 2010, p. 33). Listening with an open attitude to a participant’s urgent matters is time well invested, even when the matters are not within the topic – small talk creates a bond. Pozzebon (2017) describes how verbatim quotations give agency by conveying people’s voice and reproduces the voice of the participant. Hence, the text or sketch situates and conveys the individ- ual’s voice in their real-time lived experience: One looks for the emerging themes after one has gathered the material; in collecting anecdotes one has to recognize what parts of the “text” of daily living are significant for one’s study while it is happening. (van Manen, 1990, p. 69) With many of the participants, we came to talk about religion, movies, or music. An instrument, a sacred object, a CD, or a poster could spark a con- versation that brought us over the first fumbling moments of connecting. The aforementioned types of objects often lead to further associations and talk about the meaning and experience of the object, surrounding objects, or memories of similar objects and settings. This type of wandering through the room or memories could be key to finding common ground and showing genuine interest without being too direct or demanding. Doing Sketch and Talk at a special residential youth home, for instance, means that it takes place in a sharply defined context where the role of the re- searcher needs to be steady and clear. The social interaction (the talking) be- tween me and the participant follows a certain manner related to the context and the type of activity we have. The anthropologist James Spradley (1979) de- fines the ethnographic interview’s context and occasion-specific talk as “speech events”: “All speech events have cultural rules for beginning, ending, taking turns, asking questions, pausing and even how close to stand to other people” (p. 55). Considering the vulnerability of the participants I meet, and the power relation between us, Spradley’s definition is helpful to illuminate both the eth- ical form of the talk and the technique. For instance, I find pauses to be a great asset, and I can “camouflage” them through my body language by focusing more 112 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development FIGUR E 18. Talking with a man about his stuff at a forensic psychiatric hospital. We met many times and we always talked about music and films, primarily from the 1980s. He had a lot of stuff that could be said to be how he maintained his self. When I asked what his definition of home was, he answered, “Home is the bible and music from the eighties.” Sketch by Franz James, 2015. 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 113 overtly on the sketching. This creates precious moments of silence, “prompting the other to gather recollections” (van Manen, 2016, p. 68). Furthermore, by altering my focus between attention to the sketchbook and attention to the participant (but still with my gaze on the sketchbook), I can ask questions in a looser manner, doing the actions (sketching) that saturate my outsiderness. The questions can even be naïve, in what I see as a phenomenological tradition. Be it good or bad, research participants in ICIs are used to measures that reinforce and direct mistrust between them and others in social settings. Need- less to say, they are used to it ( James & Olausson, 2021). The context of the ICIs and the research participator’s past institutional experiences career have made some participators well trained in interview situations, and interviews are sometimes undermined by the subject’s readiness to answer questions in a trained way, in my experience. However, the theme of the research interviews and the chosen methods, in my view, allows the researcher to avoid the typical focus on the research subject’s behavior and life situation and to focus instead on something outside their behavioral issues. I believe the focus on material surroundings and the chosen methods has led research participants to be more open to discussing the topic. Moreover, the topic and the researcher’s role have, in the words of several of the research participants, the potential to reach out and achieve change. Several of the research participants have wrongly believed that I either represent a governmental agency or have the power to create immediate change. Naturally, I have described my role and its limitations, but also assured them that their voice will be heard. Rose (2018) describes how a participant who was used to interviews with psychologists suddenly reminded themself that this particular researcher is interested in other aspects; the reaction showed further that power relations fluctuate and that one might, as a researcher, believe that the uneven relationship is somewhat eradicated but is only shifted momentarily. When I met a young woman in the Sun City Prison in Johannesburg (Fig- ure 19), it was challenging to continue the conversation after she responded to my question of what mattered to her by saying, “Nothing matters.” I saw a few objects on the shelf next to her bed, the top bunk bed. I asked her about them. Now, something happened. I asked her if I may sketch them. While I was sketching, she told me how important her lotion was to her, how keeping her skin smooth belonged to her identity, to preserving her self. Later, as I met more people in incarceration, I started to recognize this phenomenon: the small stuff that appeared at a first glance to be insignificant was in fact saturated with 114 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development FIGUR E 19. Talking with a young woman at Johannesburg Prison. It was an emotionally strong encounter with a person who appeared to have given up. One might say that she had “lost her self.” An interesting observation is that the young woman said that “girls don’t steal.” This is opposite to the man that I met earlier at this prison who claimed that he stayed by his bed to prevent his belongings from being stolen. Sketch by Franz James, 2015. 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 115 meaning. What could be more essential than keeping your self? However, I real- ized later that my preoccupation with the sketch allowed us to continue to talk about the objects that might reveal themselves containing significant meaning. The stuff that was perhaps perceived as worldly by the respondent made it pos- sible for us to linger and to explore it further. This way of orienting ourselves to- wards the stuff I saw something in was sometimes a dead end; however, as a tool in a method it has been worth trying and many times it has given a rich result. Participant Observation During my first period of fieldwork, the Norwegian sociologist Katrine Fan- gen’s book on participant observation (2005) was an important resource, since she points to ethnographic methods and ways of navigating ethically, socially, and even physically. Fangen’s way of sharing her experience was essential for me to reflect on my own way of behaving in an unknown setting and to make me aware of my insecurity in the new role as a researcher. Through participant observation, the researcher interacts socially with or even becomes a member of a group of people that are of interest to the researcher. The method is seen to give richer data than interviews (Fangen, 2005, p. 31). By building subject-subject relations and interacting in the subjects’ own habitat, participating gives a deepened understanding of the phenomena that are significant for the group. This means that the researcher joins either the everyday activities or those that are important for the researcher’s project in the group’s natural setting. Researchers often spend long periods – years or months – with the group. However, the field of ICIs has ethical and practical challenges for researchers aiming to conduct “pure” ethnographic fieldwork. To “go natural” or participate for months or weeks has not been feasible in this project. Considering the challenges of conducting research in closed institu- tions, longer participant observation in its true sense is rare. Researchers and journalists (Bly, 2008; Ugelvik, 2014) have conducted participant observation both covertly and overtly in prisons, psychiatric hospitals, and institutions for behavioral health. Covert studies like Bly’s revealed severe abuse. Overt stud- ies of everyday life in ICIs can effect change of particular or systematic ethical issues (Nolbeck et al., 2019). In the field of prison studies, Harvey (2015, p. 392) discusses the previously given limitations and concludes that “what is distinctive and essential about ethnographic research is the core intention of learning about the experiences, beliefs and meaning-making of people living 116 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development in a particular setting.” Furthermore, it is important to remember that the context of this project is in the field of design and not, for example, sociology or criminology, where longer studies may be more common or necessary. My intention has not been to understand and gain knowledge of fields other than design but to create knowledge of design’s relationship to care. Being in the field therefore has not given me a “natural” role to engage in other than that of the outside designer and researcher. The role of the participant observer is “instrumental” (Oreilly & Bone, 2008, pp. 150–157); in other words, it’s a constructed role that is not “natural.” When I have done fieldwork for longer and repeated periods (Papers I, III, IV, V), it has given breaks and time to observe, follow activities and adjust to rapid changes in the everyday lives of the participants. Harvey (2015, p. 393) emphasizes the importance of being able to have time to improvise and pursue opportunities. The process of sketching, which is one of the reasons to gain access, also creates my role as a participant observer, and it both needs time and uses time, which in turn creates “hang out time.” Sketching can be done in the gaps of time that occur throughout the day. The narratives that are shared with me and that I experience in the natu- ral setting are not lived by me; furthermore, I am usually not a representative of the group of people I am doing research with; nor do I have the age of the youths in the special residential youth homes, nor come from a similar back- ground. In quite a few cases, I do not share the gender of the people I met. Most importantly, I have not experienced the amount of time in involuntary care that the youths have. It cannot be debated that my experience and knowl- edge would have been deeper through first-hand experience, but no two people have the same experience, and meeting different people allows me to consider different views and experiences, such as when an adolescent surprisingly says that the room he has now is the best so far ( James & Olausson, 2021). This means I need to set aside my own view to understand and respect the relativ- ity of this statement. Nevertheless, some argue that the understanding that researchers present is filtered and limited compared to prison guards, for ex- ample, or others that have a clear role in the natural environment. Hammersley (2015) discusses how researchers respond to this problem by stating that they give voice to marginalized groups. Moreover, Hammersley finds participant observation problematic, since “the ethnographer is still playing a governing role, in the sense of filtering and formulating insider views, rather than simply 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 117 FIGUR E 20. Participating in a meal in a SiS home. The youth have ordinary metal cutlery that the staff count at least three times to be sure that no sharp objects leave the dining room. Meals are loud, intense, and display much of the organizational, structural, and practical aspects of security. Mealtime also conveys the culture, power relations, treatment methods, and ideologies that un- derly the institution’s approach to its mission (see Fransson, 2018). Sketch by Franz James, 2018. 118 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development preserving and voicing these in their own terms”. To me, Hammersley’s stand- point makes a lot of sense. Having read several articles in which researchers had not spent time with participants, I felt a need to bring longer quotations into the papers I was writ- ing, which is significant in the papers I, III, “It’s All but Home, It’s Hell!…” and “It’s Important to Not Lose Myself.” However, in hindsight it can be challeng- ing for the reader to include many and extensive quotations. In the paper “Fit and Re-orientation…” our attempt was to find a balance between authentic quotations and theoretical discussion. However, using Sketch and Talk brings quotations to the reader in the text, but through the method the quotations are embedded in the sketches, which means they are situated in the socio-material relationship between me and the participant. Whether this brings a stronger sense of “being there” or a higher grade of “validity” is debatable, though in- tertwining text and images, in my opinion, brings a richness and natural situ- atedness – maybe even what Taussig (2011) describes as “witnessing.” Shadowing In Paper IV, “Designing for care…”, we discuss how we found that shadowing al- lowed for a flexibility to the non-planned situations we experienced in the special residential youth home. Weele and Bredewold (2021) explored shadowing in studies with intellectually disabled children and similarly found that shadowing gave them the opportunity to observe, write field notes, have short conversa- tions, and engage when necessary and that shadowing lowered the threshold of engagement for the participant, who could engage in a more relaxed way with- out being stressed by feeling the pressure to perform. In our case, we needed to adapt quickly to the moments that were given to us and to join as many everyday activities as possible. This meant, for instance, that we would wait for the boys to arrive at their mandatory morning meeting and see if we could find a time during the day to meet in their room for a talk, photovoice, and Sketch and Talk. Still, I would grasp the window of opportunity and make a quick sketch (see Figure 21). My experience is that shadowing can evoke a strong feeling of imposing on the participant, and I found that sketching lessened that feeling to some extent, as it gave me the opportunity to observe less (even if I did not) and go about doing my thing, which was the sketching. Yet, shadowing, participatory observation, and observation are debated in regard to the researcher’s impact on the participant’s behavior and altering a social situation (Fangen, 2005, p. 31). 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 119 FIGUR E 21. Shadowing. Hanging out with three teenage boys outdoors at the designated space for smoking. Sketch by Franz James, 2017. 120 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development Observation Verbatim or minute observation has not been a tool used for observation in this dissertation; however, hours of waiting or just hanging out have been valuable to observe everyday life. For instance, taking part in the daily meet- ing and planning of the daily activities on a ward at Rågården (see Paper I) demanded a type of distance that felt appropriate, since I had no business in taking part, asking questions, or interrupting the daily routine. Through observing, however, the obvious indifference and monotony for both staff and patients came through both visibly in the body language and voices of the patients (Figure 22). Sketch and Talk & Photovoice Within the SiS research team, we merged photovoice with Sketch and Talk on several occasions ( James & Olausson, 2018). Initially we had planned to use observation, photovoice, and Sketch and Talk separately and let the youth choose which method they wanted to participate in when they signed the in- formed consent form. This way of splitting the methods became overly com- plicated. However, merging was primarily a reaction to the situational context of security, spatial planning, respondents’ emotional challenges, and incidents that occurred. The incidents forced us to be two researchers when we were alone with youth at all subsequent situations. It is important to say that none of us researchers were at any time injured. However, on one occasion a researcher had their key stolen, and there were others when verbal sexual language threatened the researcher or violence (not against the researcher) was too close. Further- more, we took the precaution that I, as a male researcher, was not to be alone in a room with a female youth. This was to avoid any triggers of past sexual abuse. Nevertheless, merging the methods created new and better ways for us to act, use our tools, and develop the methods to better fit the context. Furthermore, we rewrote the informed consent, since the language needed simplification and we removed the participant’s opportunity to choose the method. Photovoice was developed by Wang and Burris in the late 1990s as a feminist participatory action strategy and a process to empower marginalized women and/or vulnerable groups by making their voices heard. The research- ers identified areas of people’s interest in change, such as a community where people have certain issues that hinder well-being. The participants are given cameras to take photos of things that matter to them and “catalyze change in 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 121 FIGU R E 22 . Patients and staff planning the daily activities at Rågården forensic psychiatric hospital. I was observing from a position in the living room partition. The jokes and the attitude from the patients maintained a high level of humor. The last question that morning was when the staff suggested a walk outdoors at 3.30 PM. The answer from the patients was a simple “No.” Sketch by Franz James, 2015. 122 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development FIGUR E 23. Example of Sketch and Talk combined with photovoice, A photo of the bed taken by a participant. It is a photo that has a meaning to the participant and that is used in the con- versation about what matters. The girl says She would like another mattress than the one she has now. Sketch by Franz James, 2018. 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 123 their communities, rather than stand as passive subjects of other people’s in- tentions and images” (Wang & Burris, 1997a). At the time when photovoice was developed, smartphones with cameras did not exist and marginalized groups did not own cameras. There is a similarity here to the special resi- dential youth homes where cameras or smart phones were not allowed. As a third phase of the process, the participants and researchers use the images as a point of departure in a process of critical discussion to develop narratives that elucidate their matter of concern. This could be in the form of interviews using a recorder, for example. This final stage is then followed by displaying the images and narratives in a public space where policy makers, journalists, and community leaders are invited to learn about the project and gain under- standing of the group’s needs (Wang, 1999). Wang and Burris found in the work of Paulo Freire that images and line drawings enabled participants to think critically to identify important issues in their community (Wang & Burris, 1997a). Photovoice is rarely used in design research, to my knowledge, but is not unusual in health research (Olausson & Lindahl, 2022) or sociology, where it has been determined that the process lends itself well to young participants (Strack et al., 2004). Photo elicitation is a method that can easily be confused with photovoice, however it is more common in many areas, not least design and architecture. Somewhat simplified, photo elicitation can be described as a tool where participants and research- ers use photos as visual aids during an interview (Hopkins & Wort, 2020). During the fieldwork in the SiS research project, the intertwining of pho- tovoice and Sketch and Talk resulted, among other things, in two researchers talking with the participant from a point of departure in the photos they had taken. I would also sketch a phenomenon in the room that presented itself through the photos in order to keep our attention there. Sometimes partic- ipants had no interest in taking photos. On such occasions I sketched while the other researcher took notes, and in that way we became more effective in the notetaking. Initially we had planned to take digital audio recordings when using photovoice, however, due to strict security regulations or participants’ choice of not wanting to be recorded, we took notes instead. One benefit we identified of being two researchers was that we could signal to each other, letting one researcher move the discussion forward and giving the other more time to concentrate on the sketching. Further findings were that our choice of camera, a modern polaroid, evoked strong interest from the youth. Many of them had 124 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development not seen a polaroid before, and the sense of magic when the photo was ejected from the camera followed by the slowly emerging image on the paper was cap- tivating. This lucky phenomenon, as well as their interest in the sketching, had a positive effect on the willingness of young people to participate. The benefits of visual methods proved themselves to be more than documentation and a fa- cilitator for talking about certain phenomena; they also made research possible. From an ethical perspective, visual methods, and photovoice are valuable since they bring the participants’ perspective and make them co-producers of the material. However, Harrison (2018, p. 189) examplifies that just be- cause a method or a process is generally seen to have strong ethical qualities does not mean that it maintains that ethical standard when processes are not carried out in a considerate way. Sketching Draws Attention The specific action of sketching tends to attract interest and curiosity. The act of sketching, and not least the emerging sketch, thus becomes a tool, a mediator, that can lead to opportunities for dialogue and sharing experiences. Sketch- ing seems to create and offer a space that has the possibility to open a path to people’s inner world while sharing a moment of seeing together. These shared moments offer “learning to see with others, not as others” (Causey, 2012). In the chapter “It’s Everything but Home – It’s hell…” ( James, 2017), I sketch “F,” who sits opposite me in an armchair in the living room. We explore the armchair while I draw lines of her and the armchair (see Figure 24). Sketch- ing lets me “see with” and talk about F’s experience of how her body is oriented by the armchair’s design and spatial position, and I learn why the design of the chair creates difficulties for a person with A DHD. Sitting there together, F and I share the space that our chairs and bodies occupy, but we also know that the living room is not my “turf ” – it does not belong to me. During the sketching, I manifest the border drawn between us through my actions – how I talk, how I position my body, how I perform my gestures. “For whenever we walk or talk, we gesture with our bodies, and inso- far as these gestures leave traces or trails, on the ground or some other surface, lines have been, or are being drawn” (Ingold, 2011b, p. 177). The border drawn between F and myself is not a visible line, but I believe both of us could point out the physical location of where our respective private spheres end. The intangible border has many functions, not least as a sign of 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 125 FIGUR E 24. I ask F if this is home. This is all but home, it’s hell, says F. She finds it annoying with the backrest that blocks her peripheral vision. It’s really disturbing for someone with ADHD she lets me know. Sketch by Franz James, 2017. 126 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development respect for F’s private sphere, but also to manifest the position of the research- er’s ethical stance. The border is therefore crucial. So far, to my knowledge and experience, the importance of establishing a clear and extended border cannot be overstated conducting research in ICIs. It is important to remember that people who are cared for in ICIs generally experience, and have experienced, trauma, mental illness, PTSD, anxiety, and neuro-psychiatric diagnoses to a higher degree than the population on average (Longato-Stadler et al., 2002; Statens institutionsstyrelse, 2022; Yourstone et al., 2014). Sketch and talk contains, in both metaphorical and literal senses, a bundle of lines that constitute the boundaries and prerequisites for the method. Lines, whether drawn or symbolic, come in different forms. Ingold (2007) distin- guishes between two categories of lines. First, there are threads in the form of material filaments that are entangled, such as yarns or a net. Second, traces are lasting marks cut into or marked upon a solid surface, such as scratches and markings on wood or an image sketched on paper. In my role as a researcher, I strive to untangle threads from the “net” (phenomenon) through conversa- tions and observations. Returning to F, she let me know that with her A DHD she needed clear sight lines to feel secure. That is why she moved the chair into the corner. Sight lines are important for staff to be able to supervise patients. However, mutual sight lines, which are as important for staff as for some patients, are threads that need to be followed and further explored in relation to patients’ well-being. I have seen numerous examples of furniture arrangements in ICIs in which sofas and armchairs are placed in the middle of a large room with their backs turned to doorways and spaces where people move about. An “un- educated guess” from a designer is that, for people with A DHD or PTSD, the arrangement of furniture in open spaces is more than crucial to reduce the risk of sensory overload. Traces of Lines “Love to dance” is one of the many traces behind the girl in one of the special residential youth homes (Figure 27). There is a bundle of messages captured in the sketch, but this one stands out. When pulling the thread of this one we can trace the loss of a special type of bodily movement the girl says was her identity and one of the few activities that gave her a sense of well-being. The rooms in SiS homes are small but could still offer space for movement. 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 127 FIGUR E 25. Sketching and talking with a man about homelikeness. Table with cigarette burns. At a forensic psychiatric hospital. Sketch by Franz James, 2014. 128 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development FIGUR E 26. Writings on the wall by the bed in a special residential youth home. The girl says she doesn’t want to put up anything on the walls, doesn’t want to become too comfortable, it’s unpleasant to be there. The writings on the wall say: “Die, run as fast as you can, “Fuck sleep”, “Nobody feels good here, nobody becomes better”. Sketch by Franz James, 2018. 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 129 Traces tell us that something has created a mark on the surface of some- thing else, one material usually harder than the other. Or one material is per- meable and the other is drawn into that material, as ink on paper. Markings drawn with ink are both engravings and remnants. They are time and mate- rial. There are layers that mark life stories and narratives, like John Berger’s drawing of his father’s face. Traces, both in sketches and in the physical en- vironment, convey narratives of lived experiences. They express existential struggle, resignation, and hope. In Paper IV, “Designing for care…”, we write about how traces of former inhabitants in a special residential youth home form an environment of shared identity but simultaneously create an environ- ment that articulates a message of lost concern and care. One of the paper’s themes, “Being disempowered – fighting for dignity,” portrays the struggle and resignation that adolescents experience when they wish to renovate and paint their room. Scratches, scribblings, engravings, and markings left by previous residents are all traces of expressions, emotions, and life stories, but not least remnants of past incarceration. Being disempowered – fighting for dignity expresses the young men’s lack of power and control of the physical environment as well as their struggle to gain respect by, and through, the physical environment. Torn wallpaper, scribblings on the wall, en- graved messages and tags, the evidence of prior inhabitants imposes other bodies and life stories upon the present inhabitants, yet, the physical environment simultane- ously becomes a vessel for shared narratives of loneliness, loss of power, desperation, sorrow and isolation. “I tag my name at every SiS home.” (James & Olausson, 2018) Temporalities in Sketching When sketching and talking simultaneously, it takes a high level of concen- tration to uphold the flow of conversation, sketching, forming a relationship, bodily position, and not least silence. Sketching and talking also means let- ting go of what is peripheral, letting it pass by unnoticed, and trying to leave whatever feelings you brought to the meeting outside the newly created space. Being in that state of high awareness means being absorbed by the moment. It is a fortunate and rich state of mind with layers of moments. It is what Csiksz- entmihalyi (2008) called “flow”: when the level of focus challenges the level of skill – it is the making of meaning and the meaning of making. It may be so fortunate that this state of mind helps us set aside preconceived notions and 130 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development FIGUR E 27. Traces of messages scratched into the surfaces of the wall and the bathroom door. Sketch by Franz James, 2017. 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 131 all we take for granted, phenomenologically speaking setting aside the natural attitude. Through this understanding, sketching and talking allows researchers to “dislodge and confront our unexamined assumptions” (van Manen, 1990) and focus on the meanings that are revealed. These moments never come back exactly as they were, however. The art- ist and writer John Berger once sat beside the coffin where his deceased father lay and drew his face. Berger (1976) wrote later: Yet to draw the truly dead involves an ever-greater sense of urgency. What you are drawing will never be seen again, by you or by anybody else. In the whole course of time past and time to come, this moment is unique: the last opportunity to draw what will never again be visible, which has occurred once and will never reoccur. The moment when drawing, or more specifically, the gathering and layering of moments is, as Berger (1976) writes, a temporal, spatial, corporal, and relational process that will never reoccur. Within this ongoing process, there are recorded senses: sound, temperature, touch, and olfactory sensations that become a re- corded intertwined whole engraved with ink on paper. It is a bodily experience of micro gestures and memories that is recorded in the drawing. It is a kinetic memory. The sketch is unique: there is only one, it can only have been made there and then. A sketch cannot be repeated on site or be staged in any way; it is purely a temporal and situational experience – engraved gestures and threads. Drawing Straight Lines What Donald Schön (1983) calls “the language of designing” is a specific lan- guage. Not only does it use the discipline’s specific vocabulary to discuss the particularities of design in terms of materiality, spatiality, functionality, and shape, it is also specific in how it makes use of different tools of communication and ideation simultaneously. Schön notes, “Drawing and talking are parallel ways of designing”. They are dependent on each other, and neither would make sense without the other. They talk back and forth, thus creating “the underly- ing process of reflection in action”. The terms sketching and drawing are com- monly used interchangeably. As a designer and furniture maker, sketching is a tool I use in an iterative process of thinking and visualizing three-dimensional forms. Sketching has therefore been a tool used for developing and accessing inner and outer ideas, a tool to examine shapes, functions, and expressions of an object to come. However, sketching is also a tool that sharpens the action 132 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development of seeing – it is staying with the object by focusing on details and partitions. It is a way of both seeing the object as an independent part of a whole and placing it in a specific context within network of stuff. As an idiom, “drawing the line” 19 derives from artists’ action of drawing a line, which is understood to mark a border. Saying “I draw the line here” would mean that it is the end of a discussion, implicitly communicating that if the line is crossed, there will be consequences. Similarly, saying there is a “fine line” between two different actions or settings that may appear similar but are in different contexts would mean that the border between them is so thin due to their similarity that distinguishing between them requires particularly at- tention. The “fine line” is recognizable as a set-up for moral dilemmas: to be on one side of the fine line indicates that the action/setting is ethically accepted, but when it crosses to the other side it becomes questionable. Following the idioms, being “out of line” indicates that someone’s actions are unacceptable, that they are not following social norms, whereas “being in line with” indicates that the action/setting attends to given norms and rules. Finally, to “keep in line” is to follow orders, to behave “in line” with norms. Judging by the idioms above, lines seem to be about order and norms, about being on one side or the other: “You stay in line or else!” Borders and straight lines appear to be desirable. This linearity reminds me of when people respond to the action of sketching by saying that they “can’t draw a straight line.” I usually respond with something like “Sketching is not about straight lines.” Though I realize that it not entirely true: I have practiced drawing straight lines in art class (not least with Mr. Farnsworth). It probably brought a sense of skill and control but also a feeling of failure, since it is challeng- ing to draw lots of straight lines. So artists and designers know how to draw straight lines, but others don’t? You could use ruler. Yet another connotation: “ruler” and “rule” come from the Latin regula, meaning “straight stick, bar, ruler.” The root reg means “to direct in a straight line” (“Online Etymology Dictionary,”). 20 Does this not lead to a way of seeing lines, at least straight 19 In 1928 the English author, journalist, and critic Gilbert Keith Chesterton wrote in a col- umn in The Illustrated London News: “Some say that art is unmoral; and some of these arts are very unmoral. I may not have described them here in the correct conventional terms; but then I do not think that art is unmoral. Art, like morality, consists of drawing the line somewhere.” https://quoteinvestigator.com/2014/07/20/drawing/ 20 https://www.etymonline.com/word/rule, https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=ruler+ 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 133 ones, as morally superior to crooked lines? And yet another connotation: when something is not straight, it is crooked – “dishonest, false, treacherous, not straight in conduct”. Following this line of reasoning, the prison, the psychiatric hospital, and the youth home become places where “line crossers” are sent to learn to “keep in line,” making crooked straight again. Crooked can be understood here as queer and out of line with norms. Sara Ahmed writes, “The norma- tive dimension can be redescribed in terms of the straight body, a body that appears in line.” (2006a, p. 562). The straight line is a controlling line – it has power to detect what is crooked, queer, and defective. Such a line makes any irregularity stand out, whereas parallel or straight lines on top of each other are taken for granted. Straight site lines in ICIs are a necessary means of control (although bent lines would be desirable for seeing around corners). Technical drawings and architectural drawings need to have straight lines to be correct. Straight lines are used to verify that things are in order. Perhaps that is why the interiors and exteriors of institutions are so straight. Sketch and Talk uses several methods or tools, and sketching is just one. Still, sketching is the key to the method and cannot be removed, as stated earlier. The rather scarce use of sketching in research may cause us to doubt its validity as a tool – can it be used and repeated by others? I would say that the expression and quality of the drawn lines themselves do not have to be interchangeable; it is what happens in the space created by the method that is relevant. I believe that using sketching as a tool in design is fully in line with the discipline, and sketching is nothing new. Although it is not known to be used much as a tool in research methods, in fields such as design, art, architecture, ethnography, anthropology, sociology, and medicine, sketching has been a common tool to document data and observe the surroundings (Causey, 2016; Heath et al., 2018; Taussig, 2011). As discussed previously in this dissertation, sketching is a skill that is learned through practicing and is taught in design and art schools, which also means that sketching is an established and specific tool within design, architecture, and other arts disciplines. Sketching is not taught in natural sciences or social sciences, however, and it is therefore fair to ask if Sketch and Talk can be used by researchers in other disciplines. My answer to such 134 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development a question would be that sketching is unlikely to become common in other disciplines, and therefore Sketch and Talk may be limited to design and art, but it doesn’t have to be. Cross-disciplinary research teams can be formed (as in the SiS research project), or an artist can bring the skill to a research group within another field ( Jellema et al., 2022). Following this line of thought, can Sketch and Talk be used by other de- signers? Would the outcomes or data be biased by the researcher’s personality and style? In qualitative research, not least in ethnography, it is not unusual for the data collection and analysis to become saturated by the researcher’s personality. Individual traits such as personality, gender, and so on will affect the data (Bryman, 2016, pp. 398–399). Furthermore, a research project with open design and spontaneous decisions along the way is difficult to replicate. Bryman argues that for qualitative research, and specifically projects with a relatively open design, it is rather the theoretical inferences that can be gen- eralized, and that is where the quality of the research is to be found. A Sketchbook or a Camera The anthropologist Michael Taussig gives a couple of reflections on this much-debated question. He writes that “photography is taking, the drawing is making” (2011, p. 21). But how can one understand this quotation as more than a clever play with words? First, I think it illuminates the temporal aspect of making: drawing takes time, but it also makes time that contains and cre- ates more than the making of the drawing. As illustrated in the model “Time, Space, Body, Relation making process” (Figure 12), drawing not only takes time but produces time as well – time to build a relationship, time to work with and on the relationship. Time becomes a tool: silent moments, the sound of drawing lines, and time to listen. It is difficult to see how the camera, a dig- ital instrument between the subjects, could create a similar texture of time. Second, Taussig, who works with drawing and writing on the pages of his notebook in a way not dissimilar from Sketch and Talk, says that the drawings “fold organically into the writing in the notebook” (p. 21). I agree: not only are the drawings and text sequential, but they also unfold like the sketching and talking did. There is an intimacy between the drawing and the writing, an intertwined whole – something that a photograph, later placed beside writing, cannot reproduce. However, when used as a tool to anchor and unwind narratives from, the photograph is another matter. In 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 135 this case, a photograph (like a drawing) creates time to talk, extending and expanding space. It brings the motif of another space into the space where the talking is going on. Apart from the restrictions on using a camera inside an ICI, the camera cannot replace the tool of sketching in Sketch and Talk. Here, sketching is not about striving for a “true” depiction but rather creating an environment and process for sharing experiences. The old debate on the camera’s truth versus the sketch’s subjectivity does not warrant extensive discussion here. Instead, I would rather like to introduce Tom Ingold’s (2011a, p. 225) thoughts on the subject: The camera interrupts this flow of visuo-manual activity and cuts the relation be- tween gesture and description that lies at the heart of drawing. For the pencil is not an image-based technology, nor is the drawing an image. It is the trace of an obser- vational gesture that follows what is going on. Sketching in Restricted Settings Reviewing the field of sketching as a research method, there appears to be a limited number of visual art techniques and tools that are associated with sketching that interconnects images and text. Mainly graphic novels have come up in the searches. Sketch and Talk does not have the form of a graphic novel, nor is it intended to tell narratives through sketches that follow one after an- other in chronological order. Nevertheless, there are some similarities in style, content, and tradition that I might consider exploring further in the future. I chose to draw parallels between the artwork of Sketch and Talk and graphic novels because of the combination of text (often quotations) and images. Drawing in the form of graphic novels has been used by artists and authors to depict and handle troublesome narratives, such as concentration camps (Spiegelman, 2003), a hostage situation (Deslile, 2017) , or sexual as- sault (Carrington, 2022). The “untellable” can be handled without explicit images or by letting animals represent humans, as in Maus, where pigs and mice take the form of Nazis and concentration camp victims. There are quite a few graphic novels that tell the life stories of prisoners and everyday prison life (Mirk, 2020)(El Akkad, 2020; Smith, 2020), as well as graphic novels about mental health issues and hospital life (Cunningham, 2011). However, I have not seen graphic novels specifically about or by youth in special residential youth homes, but it is probably just a question of time. 136 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development Another association for Sketch and Talk is courtroom sketching, which shares features of the juridical and ethical circumstances that led to the devel- opment of Sketch and Talk in the first place. For instance, in Swedish court- rooms, cameras are forbidden; instead, sketches by artists can communicate what is essential. In an interview with the Finnish courtroom artist Hannu Lukkarinen (Sederlöf, 2017), he expresses several of the advantages of court- room sketching: In a drawing I can highlight details in a completely different way than you can in a photo- graph. I can reinforce nuances, change perspectives, enlarge or reduce the space between the people in the courtroom. A drawing actually becomes more intimate and personal. The statement corresponds well with what many illustrators and scholars value as the dynamics of sketching (Anderson, G., 2018; Kashanipour, J., 2021b, Kuschnir, K., 2016). Ethical Perspectives on Sketch and Talk From an ethical perspective, visual methods like Sketch and Talk and photo- voice are valuable because they capture the participants’ perspective but also make them co-producers of the material (Wang, 1999; Wang, 2001). Emer- son (2011, p. 23) points out that researchers who openly display their field notes to the participants “often become very sensitive to the ways in which the stance and act of writing are very visible […] and can influence the quality of their relationships with, those studied.” The risk of bias through influence by the participant was raised earlier in this chapter by Bryman (2007, p. 428); however, fieldwork requires adaption to the specific circumstances and ethics. In the direct activity of gathering data by sketching and writing, two aspects of “the stance and act” have been important. The first aspect is to openly display and talk about the sketch at a mu- tual point of interest in order to ensure that the research subject can inspect the data and feel they are participating in the production of data through their opinion. This can also be done by asking if they confirm the researcher’s findings in the drawing and the text. The second aspect is choosing the object of interest to sketch in a spatial position not close to the research subject if they are shy, nervous, or in a troubled state of mind. In these cases, it can be 4. “Sketch and Talk” Method Development 137 advantageous to choose an object that holds the researcher’s gaze and focuses their attention in the opposite direction to the participant. Furthermore, the initial participant information situation can be seen as a “trust contract” between the researcher and the participant through which “each has a number of expectations to cement this trust” (Guillemin et al., 2018). Trust is partly, though not exclusively, based on written responsibilities. But the subject may also be invited to trust by the researcher and the institution through friendly intentions, and subjects can sometimes be given responsibil- ity to do things for the group of research participants, such as making their voices heard. This way of giving something in return for trust is brought up by Bryman (2016, p. 428), who states that such a contract between the parties can bring limitations to the data. For example, when a participant is invited to follow notetaking, the researcher may restrict its content. The ethical stance I have taken to openly display images and written notes, and to get approval, can risk such bias. Nevertheless, I find that benefit of establishing trust out- weighs that risk. Trust goes beyond interpersonal connections, and Guillemin et al. draw a distinction between trust and reliance (2018). Whereas trust is an ethical stance that demands skill and experience from the researcher, re- liance stands for accountability that comes with the researcher’s institution. This reliance promises that the research, when completed, will provide some benefit to the research subject. 139 5. Discussion This dissertation critically discusses the dichotomies, meanings, and connect- ing lines between incarcerated humans, the interior, and stuff. I have chosen to delimit my field of inquiry to critically examining the role of design in compulsory care and correctional facilities, but not the role of ICIs as soci- etal institutions as such. I would like to clarify that the dissertation holds a critical view of the meanings that incarceration produces but simultaneously acknowledges society’s absolute need to provide compulsory care. One must not forget that people who are ill or live a life that is severely self-destructive must be given care; anything else is unthinkable. However, inmates, patients, and youths in compulsory care suffer from mental health problems, health issues, and social and economic challenges to a much higher degree than the general population, as presented earlier in the dissertation. One may ask if the ICIs have become our time’s “workhouses and madhouses,” where care and re- habilitation in the form of “carceral humanism” (Kilgore, 2015) is a semantic labeling. Both the Swedish Prison and Probation Service and SiS report how they fall short of providing sufficient care (Grip & Svensk, 2022; Yourstone, Wenander, & Långström, 2014). The Swedish Prison and Probation Service have received substantial critique for long detention periods, limited space, and access to activities for young people (Riksdagens ombudsmän, 2020). Moreover, SiS has shut down a number of wards in the last two years due to repressive abuse and sexual abuse of youths (Foundation, 2023; I VO, 2023; Riksdagens ombudsmän, 2021; Söderin, 2023). Closing wards causes more problems. Apart from delayed ac- cess to care for youths and lower quality care, closed wards make it harder to recruit qualified staff, for which SiS has received serious critique (IVO, 2023). All this considered, a supportive work environment, both physical and social, must be in place to deliver adequate care. The ongoing efforts to improve se- curity are one important factor in creating a safer environment for both staff and youths. However, the abuse, ill-being, and lack of mental health care, not least for young girls (IVO, 2023), are not likely to be improved through 140 5. Discussion security measures that are aimed primarily at outer threats. Considering the spectrum of illnesses, neuropsychiatric disorders, and often poor preconditions of the people in ICIs, the UN’s 2030 Agenda stresses the importance of equal health services for all citizens and calls for nations to act on the global epidemic of ill-being and mental health problems. Therefore, the handling of peoples’ mental health problems by the Swedish Prison and Probation Services and SiS gives an unfortunate view of a stigmatic approach. Rather than seeing mental health problems as “deep meaningful and human experiences” (Timander, 2020) and an inherent part of being in ICIs, the negligence signals that the agencies perceive mental health problems as ab- normal. Furthermore, the International Committee of the Red Cross (2018) calls attention to the fact that young adults and adolescents may be more at risk of mental health problems as a result of incarceration, further suggesting that a serious commitment is needed to provide adequate care in adequate care environments – not “carceral humanism” (Kilgore, 2015). Moreover, I would emphasize the urgent need to act now, since the current interior design of ICIs for young people with neuropsychiatric problems and learning dis- abilities is hardly in line with the U N’s Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, Article 7: Children with Disabilities (Disability, 2006), in which it is said that children with disabilities have the right to a reasonable adaption of their lived environment. This is unfortunately not the case today. With incarceration increasing both worldwide (UN & Crime, 2021) and in Sweden (Kriminalvården, 2021), it is reasonable to believe that the prison as we know it today is here to stay for the foreseeable future unless alternative penal measures are implemented. The era of “Scandinavian exceptionalism” (Pratt, 2008) with low imprisonment numbers has turned, just as Pratt pre- dicted it would 15 years ago. Both youth prisons (for youths under 18 years of age) and longer sentences for youths are expected to become realities in the near future. In addition, the special residential youth homes are forecasted to receive higher numbers of youths, and these are already over their capacity for providing care today. Moreover, the length of prison sentences for both men and women has increased and can be expected to increase further, according to the current Swedish political majority (Strömmer, Waltersson Grönvall, & Malmer Stenergard, 2023; Sverigedemokraterna, Moderaterna, Kristdemokra- terna, & Liberalerna, 2022). Similarly, there is a critical shortage of beds in Sweden’s forensic psychiatric hospitals (Wieselgren & Malm, 2022). 5. Discussion 141 The political discourse on care and rehabilitation as the prime goal of the Swedish prison system has been replaced for the moment in favor of in- capacitation. The idea that Sweden is representative of Scandinavian excep- tionalism with low incarceration numbers and high prison standards from an international perspective is no longer unchallenged. The Swedish prison system is critiqued as being “two-faced”: on one hand there is a crumbling but still existing welfare system, while on the other the system is critiqued for its duality, in that the system is not only humane and mild but also includes strong repressive elements. This mixed message of the welfare state supports individual autonomy, and provides a social safety system, but is also criticized for violating the rights of criminal offenders and refugees (Barker, 2013). The other side of the coin of the crumbling welfare state and the current politics means that the rapid process of building new prisons and additions to existing ones (many with shared cells) will continue for years. The risk of further undermining the mental health and well-being of inmates due to crowding, increased security measures, and low levels of social density (Wener, 2012) is imminent. The rapid production of beds is likely to lead to security and work environment issues for staff (Cige & S, 2020; Wingborg, 2020). Moreover, the Swedish Probation and Prison Services forsees that the hasty expansion will cause difficulties in recruiting staff, which in turn will affect the quality of care, treatment programs, and overall security (Kriminalvården, 2020). In light of the present and upcoming scenario of increased incarceration, it is urgent to ensure that patients, clients, and youths in ICIs receive the type of care and care environment that are optimized for this group’s specific needs. Hastily erected standard units will not adequately address diverse mental health problems and ill-being. It is important to remember that detention as recog- nized within the judicial system is a deprivation of freedom, nothing else. Drawing Carceral Experience The question “What kind of everyday lived experience is brought to people who are cared for in environments designed for care and incarceration?” is at the core of this dissertation. This research question is dependent on meth- odological choices and possibilities as well as designerly skills. Throughout this dissertation, I have spoken about “designerly ways of knowing,” such as 142 5. Discussion FIGUR E 28. A 12-year old girl at the SiS home dangles her feet and talks about the nights when she sleeps on the mattress on the floor. Sketch by Franz James, 2018. 5. Discussion 143 FIGUR E 29. A mattress on the floor, where a 12-year-old girl sleeps to fight anxiety. A special residential youth home. Sketch by Franz James, 2018. 144 5. Discussion FIGUR E 30. “You don’t want to be locked in when you’re a teenager; you kinda want to be with friends,” says a teenage girl in one of the SiS homes. Sketch by Franz James, 2018. 5. Discussion 145 FIGUR E 31. A young man in a special residential youth home. “I’m used to it.” Sketch by Franz James, 2017. 146 5. Discussion generating knowledge through reading and decoding material culture. Sim- ilarly, “drawing as a way of knowing” (Anderson, 2018) is a specific type of knowledge that identifies “relations between things that otherwise remain in- visible” (p. 16). In this sense, drawing can be used as an analytical process that allows zooming in and out between the already known and the new knowl- edge that is generated through each accumulated observation – the layers of moments and the lines between them. To draw you must look. This is what Berger (1976) proposes as the es- sence of drawing. As a specific production of knowledge, I suggest that this type of looking in research can be understood as an informed gaze becoming visible as tacit knowledge displayed in the finished sketch. “Drawings not only represent the subject they describe but also the embodied human experience of the seeing process itself ” (Anderson, 2018, p. 21). Looking at the drawn lines, traces, and engravings of the sketches in this dissertation, I find that they encompass both the researcher’s and participant’s embodied experiences. The sketches from these layered moments are therefore in a phenomenological and epistemological sense lived. They bear witness to how it was, there and then. I could even say, to paraphrase Taussig (2011), “I swear I saw this.” Witnessing can be understood as the state of being within what is drawn, experiencing more than the boundaries of the lines to actually go inside the lines of the drawing, “dwelling within it, and drawing out history” (p. 24). Understanding these sketches as knowledge by “drawing out history” and “borrowing” other people’s experiences (van Manen, 2016, p. 62), the sketches tacitly respond to the before mentioned research question. The sketches shown here remind me of the resigned voices of staff who declared that no more than a fifth of the young people after their time at SiS live a life free of crime and self-destructive behavior. At the same time, I also feel a certain discomfort at being reminded through the sketches that the lives of many of the young people I met are now drawn against a background of other institutions. 5. Discussion 147 The youngest person we met in a special residential youth home was a girl wearing furry slippers and sitting on the edge her bed. She was twelve years old at the time. When meeting her, I followed the lines she drew between loneli- ness, anxiety, and sleeplessness. The lines led from the bed to the mattress to the floor. She was not the first I have met who laid the mattress on the floor to ease anxiety, but she was the youngest. She knew too much. She knew how smuggle CDs into her room, break them and cut herself, and she knew that the cavities in her desk were traces of drawers that had been removed to keep her from taking her life with a string attached to the drawer’s knob. What kind of experiences are these for a 12-year-old girl? What is ac- tually going on? Are her experiences and actions in any way related to and supported by the design of the interior? If so, how far removed then is her being from existential well-being – from having the ability to move forward in life, to function well, to have certain control over her life and a sense of pur- pose, and to experience positive relationships (Todres & Galvin, 2010). It is remarkable that well-being is not a concept that underlies the contemporary interior design of SiS homes. It is furthermore deeply problematic that children and adolescents do not find support in the design of their rooms and surroundings to mitigate anxiety and that they experience the design of their care environment as similar to the design of a jail, prison, or psychiatric hospital. Governmental agencies need to reflect on the past experiences of the people cared for in ICIs. These “flawed con- sumers” (Bauman, 2007, p. 126), many of whom come from families with gen- erations of accumulated experience of penal institutions, bear witness to the fact that a certain group of people are used to, and used by, these environments. Being “used to” implies that these carceral environments fit ( James & Olausson, 2021) their past experiences and confirm as well as propose a certain self-identification: Being used to the carceral environment means similarly being used by it, the envi- ronment acquires its meaning and societal symbolic impact through the youth, as well as the system behind it. Being used to the environment means knowing it; in- ternalizing narratives and symbols, being “used to use something” (Ahmed 2019 as cited in James & Olausson, 2021) Moreover, when the lived experiences of youths, patients, and inmates wit- ness how their bodies fit and similarly how their bodies hurt, something must actually be lost, intentionally or unintentionally, in what is said to be care. 148 5. Discussion Questions arise as to what kinds of places these youth institutions are, with the illnesses, mental health problems, and bodily pain that emerge through the sketches in this dissertation. Based on my observations, a small number of these youths appear to struggle severely with neuropsychiatric problems. Unfortunately, these problems are exacerbated by poorly designed environments in which sound, light, air, temperature, and other challenging stressors create a triggering cocktail. While not knowledgeable in care or treatment programs, I cannot let go of the thought that a limited number of the most troubled youths would benefit from much better designed care environments (and specialist care) like those in the new forensic psychiatric hospitals built in Sweden in recent decades. I say this based on my obser- vations and fieldwork, but also in light of the present and coming enforced security measures in the SiS homes (Statens institutionsstyrelse, 2021), which I fear will have a negative impact on mental health. The increased focus on security needs to be paired with a conscious and sincere focus on care and well-being, especially in this time when security concepts are bor- rowed from the prison services. Higher security, however, does not have to lead to design that is more visibly rooted in carceral environments. It is no doubt possible to integrate security without obvious carceral heritage, not least by improving dynamic security through the design of the interior. This is an opportunity that needs to be grasped as soon as possible, and to rethink whether business as usual is a viable method of achieving safety and well-being. Design Research and the Lifeworld To gain knowledge about peoples’ lifeworlds in ICIs, we can ask the second research question: “How can design research methods be used to create a deepened understanding and knowledge of the role the interior and its ob- jects play in people’s lived experience of compulsory care?” In this dissertation, therefore, I have advocated for a design research methodology that brings the researcher closer to the phenomenon. I have sought to understand the complexity of using different methods within ICIs, and I have discussed the challenges that I have identified both in practice and through reflecting on the research material and findings. I have not investigated and trialed a wide 5. Discussion 149 range of methods to identify the most suitable one, but I have developed a methodological approach along the way: reflecting in action and to action. In the reflective practice of fieldwork, I have developed the Sketch and Talk method through the use of several aspects of designerly knowledge, includ- ing, in addition to sketching, how designers are trained to code and decode material stuff. But as a design research method it would be of limited use if it were solely concerned with materiality, form, and function in ICIs. I have therefore suggested earlier in this dissertation that we need to recognize that material stuff is but the second word in “socio-materiality.” When we consider the relationship between humans and the material world, there is an opportunity to bring extra awareness to the relational and social conditions that emerge in the field of action between human activities and the material world. We can ask ourselves what knowledge we can draw from making visible what we might otherwise take for granted. It may sound sim- ple, but using a sketchbook and a pen with an “informed gaze” can help us by offering presence, “suspension”, slowing down, and “holding our horses” (Bredmar & Dahlberg, 2019). Phenomenologically speaking, slowing down allows for reflection on the “essential structures of the world” (van Manen, 2016). This is precisely what is central about the trust and reflection created through sketching and talking with the participant, not least by asking, “What is actually going on?” Gaining understanding of people’s lifeworlds in ICIs is far from a “tame” task. The space we seek to understand needs to be lived and experienced through the body. For this the researcher needs to be at the node where experiences are produced. Designers and stakeholders will gain knowledge if they strive for the opportunity to experience the space as far as possible: lie on the floor, sit by the window, use the bathroom, close and open the door – all those actions and affordances that the physical environment offers. We can try to live with and through the material world – its sound, smell, light and atmosphere, and not least through imagining an everyday life there. As design researchers we can “borrow” experiences, but also make our own or hopefully do both. For the researcher, maintaining an open attitude will let different opportunities of experiencing present themselves. 150 5. Discussion FIGUR E 32. What I see from the bed in a cell when looking at the ceiling, wall, and door. Sketch by Franz James, 2016. 5. Discussion 151 Experiencing Prototypes Sometimes experiences need to be staged in a lab environment. In a design process, one comes to a point when a prototype is needed. It is one of several answers to the collected understandings of the problem at a certain stage of the process. A prototype in this field of design is a material object at full scale. It is designed to be experienced through the body to test and evaluate its functions. To evaluate the design of a patient room or a cell, it is common to build a model at full scale, a so-called “mock-up room.” This can either be an existing room that is furnished with interior products or a full-scale box con- taining a room. A box that is built in a larger space has the goal of using both the intended materials (floor, walls, window, doors, etc.) and objects (furniture, basin, shower, etc.) that are designed to be in the actual setting once it is built. I have observed on several occasions how patient mock-up rooms have been set up and evaluated. I find that there is room for improvement in how the evaluations were conducted. What I observed was that the mock-up rooms were inspected by stakeholders who filled out a form in which they noted what they saw from their eye level. They sat down briefly on the edge of the bed or on the chair by the desk. They filled out their forms according to the formulated questions and maybe added a few notes. Later the forms were gathered and evaluated numerically along with the comments. However, this is not how a room is lived. This is not how we experience light, sound, smell, or the tactility of materials. The experiences need to be corporal, tem- poral, relational, and spatial as we meet them through our bodies. Also, in a mock-up room one can bring a sketchbook and a pen. One can sketch and talk with people, interview them and discuss how they experience the en- vironment. But there is also an opportunity for the designer to experience a mock-up room themselves by using their professional experience, tacit knowledge, and informed gaze. One can lie down on the bed and experience how the light is let in from the window behind, sense the smell of other and former inhabitants, and look at and listen to the ceiling vent. One can feel the gaze of staff through the “porosity” of the door and listen to the echo of one’s own voice. This is offered by sketching and noting the experiences of the layers of moments. We can ask how it actually feels to lie there on the bed in the cell, and we can ask, “What is actually going on?” I suggest that if we do these types of investigations (and possibly also use forms and protocols), then we can have informed discussions. Only then 152 5. Discussion would it be possible to design alterations that improve the lived experience rather than solely addressing problems through security, robustness, and economy, which is what I have observed are the main issues that are dis- cussed. However, to design for the social conditions and relationships, and our lived relations to other human beings, we can create understanding of the dialectical relationship between the material and the social by employing ethnographic design research methods that allow us to get as close as possi- ble to the phenomenon. Sketching and talking has the agency to create a space where it is possi- ble to look at the social and relational lines between the network of stuff – to experience what is going on in real time and reflect on it later. I want to high- light a couple of things here. First, it seems to me as a waste of money, time, and effort not to make the most of the opportunity to learn from mock-up rooms by acknowledging the social field of action. Second, it might appear to be a simple and tame task to find out how design research methods can be used in ICIs to create knowledge about the role the interior plays – for in- stance, by being content with the existing body of research and methods such as evidence-based design. However, the scope of knowledge is limited both in numbers and in depth. We need to develop design research methods to generate basic research knowledge and not be afraid to take inspiration from other fields and theory that can point to what is not always visible. Third, we can use designerly knowledge such as “reverse designing” (Dorst, 2019) as a point of departure for understanding why we design and make the things we do and not take anything for granted. Here we can again use the question, “What’s actually going on?” Lastly, I would like to add the importance of applying a critical approach to the past and its connecting lines to the stuff that is used today. Raising awareness of the concept of carceral design heritage (Papers III, IV, V) is an example of a critical approach. However, I would like to emphasize that a crit- ical approach is not the equivalent of a negative approach. We should avoid methods that assume that the heritage of ICIs has no value today, which could create unnecessary barriers to invention and learning from the past. 5. Discussion 153 Dismantling “Carceral Design” As discussed throughout this dissertation, the design of many ICIs reflects a carceral design heritage rooted in punitive and repressive ideologies. How- ever, I believe the implementation of carceral design in current ICIs is not a deliberate ideological act and provocation but rather an unfortunate result of the unquestioned process of “improving” what is already there, which results in enforced security. As suggested earlier in this dissertation, the term carceral design can be used to highlight and understand the meanings of objects in ICIs that “control, hold and shape the body” ( James, 2018). Furthermore, I propose that the inner (ideological, ontological, and epistemological) and outer (phys- ical) relationship between carceral design and security is one of the underlying challenges we must address in designing for ICIs. The production of “docile bodies” (Foucault, 1991, p. 156) is problematically intertwined with what is commonly perceived as security, and I suggest that this muddle itself is at the core of the wicked problem. As long as the intertwined relationship between security/safety and carceral design is not brought to light, the opportunity to design for well-being will be farther out of reach. A critical discussion of these concepts is an area of further investigation that can bring clarity to design briefs and bring leverage to negotiations that promote a focus on well-being. “Fit and Re-Orientation” How can we understand the mechanisms behind why certain spaces can pro- mote well-being but others exacerbate illness and foster unsatisfactory care outcomes? The model of Fit and Re-Orientation contributes a theoretical model of how the design of ICIs produces an orientation of the body in one direction or another. To be oriented means to be turned towards certain ob- jects and how these objects guide us in finding our way in life. The concept is inspired by Sara Ahmed’s theory on queer phenomenology and is used here to shed light on how bodies that are accustomed to carceral institutional spaces orient themselves outwards – away from an openness to change. “Fit” can therefore be understood as “awayness”: “It means to not be present, to be occluded, to become hindered from self- reflection and to not be able to open for the crucial therapeutic alliance” ( James & Olausson, 2021). 154 5. Discussion Re-orientation, however, suggests a place with supportive design features in which new horizons of change and hope present themselves and open for the important therapeutic alliance between the person and caregiving staff. The interior could be understood here as an agent for orienting inwards to self-reflection, “dwelling-mobility,” “peace and movement,” and “home and adventure” (Todres and Galvin 2010). I suggest furthermore that the Fit and Re-orientation model (Figure 6, see page 49) can be used to sort out and reflect on carceral semantic and functional features of the interior. Although this is no simple task, it offers an opportunity to develop and discuss theory that identifies and discusses spe- cific features. The main contribution of the model, however, is its simplicity to disclose why and how a security-heavy ideology is disruptive to well-being and change. Additionally it proposes a deepened understanding and explanation of the frequently discussed idea that security-heavy environments are perceived as provocative and therefore risk provoking violence and fostering low self-es- teem. Lastly, the model can be used in design processes in which it brings an increased awareness of environmental factors that either hinder or promote the therapeutic alliance, and by extension foster improved care outcomes. A State-of-the-Art Facility? What would it mean if the stated goal of SiS 21 was to invest in state-of-the art facilities when designing future standard units? This question is not intended to propose a step-by-step design process or what such a facility would include; instead, it could be used to encourage us to explore what could be gained by taking a “naïve” approach and highlighting a few of the wicked problems. As a naïve approach, it takes the liberty of setting aside limitations such as funding, ownership, and security. The following scenario can be discussed: A new building is planned for a highly vulnerable group of children and adolescents with extensive psychosocial problems, mental health issues, and neuropsychiatric problems. In this building, youths will be incarcerated and given care under stringent restrictions, since all previous efforts of care and 21 I chose to use SiS homes as an example for the discussion, but the process would be similar with other ICIs. 5. Discussion 155 rehabilitation in less “total institutions” (Goffman, 1961) have failed. A special residential youth home is the end of the line, so to speak. SiS’s stated vision is to “give better conditions for a socially functioning life without abuse and crime.” 22 So, if this were the background for a design brief, where would one begin? In a design process, the structuring and hierarchy of user groups is im- portant for shedding light on conflicting interests – for instance, when secu- rity measures stand in opposition to users’ autonomy. As discussed earlier in this dissertation, the primary users are here defined as the inmates, patients, and youths, according to Eason’s (1988) definition of “primary users as those who interact directly with the object and are affected by it” (pp. 92–94). This vulnerable group lacks a united voice of representation in design projects; it is therefore necessary to find alternative ways of bringing them in. However, distinguishing between primary, secondary, and tertiary users is important to disentangling the wicked problem of designing for ICIs and can give a plat- form where users’ needs are brought in as a starting point for the design of state-of-the-art facilities. Similarly, the definition of a wicked problem is important for highlight- ing how entangled and concomitant the identified “solutions” to a problem can be. To give a tangible example, creating a safer environment for staff can impact youths’ possibilities for bodily movement, which in turn, if they are not given the space to move, can affect the tension within the group of youths and successively create other problems – and so it continues. Concomitant problems are therefore hard to foresee, not least when to foreseeing the social effects of an envisioned designed environment. Buchanan (1992) writes, “The problem for designers is to conceive and plan what does not yet exist.” This is not only a problem for designers. It is a gen- eral problem that needs to be elucidated, because otherwise there is an imminent risk of doing things the same way as before, which would not lead to a state-of- the-art facility. Wicked problems are always unique in character and have no ready-made answers. The challenge is to identify and accept answers that are compromises but that do not let down any of the stakeholders, especially those without a strong voice. Therefore, addressing a wicked problem is as much about ethical and ideological standpoints as it is about a problem-solving process. 22 https://www.stat-inst.se 156 5. Discussion Although the primary users have been defined, there are other user groups, such as staff, visiting representatives, and family and friends. It is fair to ask how any of these user groups are brought into the design process and the preceding processes. If the voices of the primary users and other user groups are not heard and their experiences are not shared, how can it be possible to design for the user? In Paper I “It’s Everything but Home, It’s Hell!…”, my task was to give voice to the users of a new forensic hospital. The editors of the book had initially planned for a former user to write the chapter, but that person became ill. Using ethnographic design methods in a “reversed design process” can aid by making users’ voices heard in the design process of a facil- ity as well as post-occupancy evaluations. Nevertheless, I want to note the risk that even when users are brought into the process, their just and fair partici- pation depends entirely on which methods are chosen and how they are used. The initial question, “What would it mean if the said the goal of SiS was to invest in state-of-the-art facilities when designing future standard units?” is no doubt naïve. But why then are special residential youth homes (current and planned) designed the way they are? I suggest that looking at how we approach designing and design solutions can be part of an understanding. In general, products and design briefs take their point of departure in previous products and seek to improve them. The term hill climbing is used to illustrate an iterative processes that leads to the point when “eventually the bad features get modified into good ones, while the good ones are kept” Norman (2002, p. 142). However, the design of new standard units for special residential youth homes are not close to the top of the hill. For SiS homes, the bad features have not yet been modified; rather they are repeated, or in the worst case enhanced. For a state-of-the-art facility, it is paramount to identify good and bad features, and to be able to do that, time and resources need to be set aside, but we also need to acknowledge that solely improving what is already there is not enough. Giving a designer a brief based on repeating bad features will in the best case elucidate a wicked problem that can be untangled; in the worst case the designer will have no choice but to follow the brief, possibly that is what usually occurs. 5. Discussion 157 Are Not All Environments Pedagogic? It is important to remember that a prerequisite for providing the most quali- fied care possible is that the work environment for staff is supportive and safe, which includes the design of the learning environments. These must not be forgotten when designing a state-of-the-art facility. Completing obligatory education and developing social and relational skills are cornerstones in (re)- habilitation and crime prevention (Hjalmarsson, 2022) and an indispensable part of SiS’s mission. But learning cannot be isolated to classrooms. I suggest taking a holistic approach to the design of special residential youth homes and seeing them as both care environments and learning environments. Possibly this is how the design brief for SiS homes is understood and communicated today. I have observed, however, that there are distinct differences between these environments in both the design and the overall approach to the interior. My impression so far is that the learning environments in the facilities I’ve studied are better adapted to youths’ neuropsychiatric challenges and that there is a substantial body of knowledge that can be evaluated and applied in other environments as well (Gaines, Bourne, Pearson, & Kleibrink, 2016; Kanakri, Shepley, Tassinary, Varni, & Fawaz, 2017; Martin, 2016). I presume that the youths’ difficulties are brought to light in the classroom, where a teach- er’s experience providing a good learning environment is yet another source for further knowledge development. I am convinced we can learn from their knowledge and from the youths. As they are the experts, we can borrow their experiences when designing a state-of-the-art facility. Violence, Movement, and Opportunities In this dissertation we have met a number of people who experience anxiety, powerlessness, and fear of losing their self. It is not uncommon that inmates, pa- tients, and youths gain control of their ill-being through self-harm and suicide. These acts can be understood as emotional regulation in which the subject’s limited agency is expressed through harm of their own body and control of life itself (Beskow, 2000; Laporte et al., 2021; Petrov, 2010). It is not difficult to see how the pain of incarceration adds yet another layer of powerlessness to a person who is already suicidal, acting out, or harming themselves. In this light, it is not odd that violent behavior is an element of ICIs. However, it is 158 5. Discussion FIGUR E 33. A girl at a special residential youth home who wishes to dance but can’t find the motivation to change clothes and walk to the gymnasium hall. She wants to dance in her room or close to her room. Sketch by Franz James, 2018. 5. Discussion 159 important to remember that this violence is related to illness, ill-being, pow- erlessness, impulse control problems, and neuropsychiatric problems. For design, the question is not if these expressions of being human can be halted, but how the physical environment can mitigate triggers and hinder self-harm and vigorous violence (not least towards staff ). Through the above reasoning, damage to the interior can be understood as an expected and reoccurring part of care in ICIs. I find it therefore odd that funding for maintenance of the interior is not a separate line item in ICI operating budgets. It seems counterproductive for the rehabilitative care interventions that these costs come out of the same pot as staff hours, rent, etc. It is even more problematic that damage is met most commonly with increased security and “hard architecture” (Sommer, 1974), as this means that interiors whose stated objective is to underscore normality often become even further removed from it. In the appended papers, the perceived dichotomy between security and design for (re)habilitation reveals itself in several ways. In Paper V, “Fit and Re- Orientation…,” youths in SIS homes could not comprehend why they were deprived of moving their bodies the way they were used to and wanted to. I especially remember a young girl who expressed the existential pain of not being capable to keep her self. She experienced that she was prevented from dancing, but dancing was her life, she said. Sadly, the design of the ward did not allow vivid bodily gestures, nor did her room or any other space nearby. She expressed as well that she lacked a full body mirror to see her body and gestures. The above given example, one of many narratives, can be understood as corporal and existential punishments. Foucault (1991) writes that “A body is docile that may be subjected, used, transformed and improved” (p. 136). Can there be an underlying desire to transform obstinate bodies through the design of the physical environment? Is the current trend in designing and investing in soothing sensory rooms, circadian lighting, calming colors, and stress-relieving views of nature thought of as a magic bullet to produce docile bodies? Are bodies that are calm, sit, or lie down a wanted obedient behavior? Is the goal with constrained bodies to show that improvement has occurred – a corporal performance and “a behavioral ‘virtue’, in hope of be- ing released” ( James & Olausson, 2021). Either way, I would like to provide an example of designing for care with a view that is less one-sided than one that strives for calm bodies. 160 5. Discussion A couple of years ago I was approached by a special residential youth home to design a large wall-mounted pad for young adolescents to throw punches at. It was an idea I had discussed earlier with staff at psychiatric hospitals and SiS homes with mixed feedback. Some said they were afraid to encourage violence; others believed strongly that there should be space for emotional outbursts and bodily affect. Yet I want to emphasize that designing a space and the stuff in it for emotional outbursts does not necessarily have to be inspired by martial arts. The point is that there should be is physical, emotional, and moral room to live feelings and empty the body of anxiety, fear, rage, or whatever feelings need to be released. However, the background to why I got the question is important: the need for wall-mounted pads came from a specialized ward that gives care to young boys with very challenging neuropsychiatric problems that led to re- peated incidents of violence and demolished interiors. Nevertheless, I do not find it farfetched to imagine the urge to kick or punch something for these boys, whether it is in a controlled or uncontrolled state of emotion. Whether incarcerated or not, are not rage, frustration, anx- iety, fear, and mental health problems a part of being human? It is therefore an odd approach that anything that has to do with vio- lence is seen as unwanted behavior and met with isolation, repressive actions, punishment, and humiliating violence, as revealed at a number of SiS homes recently (Foundation, 2023; IVO, 2023; Söderin, 2023). However, my point is that we should design for all expressive actions of being human. We need to design both for calm and for movement, and see these parts of being human as an integrated feature of ICIs – a feature we need to invest in. Moreover, if such an approach could be further developed into design concepts, it might be able to have an impact on the therapeutic alliance and the reduction of incidents. Final Words I would like to conclude by emphasizing that designing for well-being has the potential to take paths and use methods other than the ones that are ex- pected and have been designed before. Simply acknowledging this creates a wide-open opportunity to reform and rethink – not least in relation to the current unprecedented investments in new ICIs in Sweden. By looking with an informed gaze, connecting lines, and borrowing lived experiences, we can open new opportunities in which we can use existing tools but also develop new ones for designing for well-being. 5. Discussion 161 Lastly, this final chapter has aimed to highlight and critically discuss questions and findings that have emerged throughout this dissertation in field studies and in practice. My sincere hope is that this dissertation can in one way or another sup- port governmental agencies, architects, designers, stakeholders, and users find an approach to design in which the interior and stuff are seen as tools that can orient residents towards new horizons of change and hope. Further Research While this dissertation provides a methodological insight and contribution to design research methods for institutions for care and incarceration, I sug- gest that the methods can be evaluated and trialed in a variety of settings and by other researchers and designers. These settings could range from learning environments to office spaces and healthcare environments, as well as envi- ronments such as migration centers or settings where an ethical and caring approach is needed. Furthermore, the methods do not necessarily need to be used in the context of research; they could be applied in design ethnography for product development as well. Similarly, the methods can be used in fields other than design. Although they are restricted in this dissertation to the researcher’s ability to sketch, it could be interesting to develop methodological and pedagogical ways of co-sketching, or to find other tools where the surroundings can be looked at together to create a shared space that allows for talking and mutual exploring. I could also see the methods used in other transdisciplinary research teams that include psychol- ogists or organizational researchers, for example – teams that work together both in the analyzing of the material and on location in the field to collect data. As this dissertation has focused primarily on method development for fieldwork in which data collection and reflection are done on site, it would have benefitted from a stronger take on analytical tools and development. However, I see this as an opportunity for further development of the Sketch and Talk method. Moreover, I see the possibilities for development and expansion of theoretical areas relating to ICIs, such as design and security, design and her- itage, design and well-being, and design and phenomenology, to name a few. There are a number of areas of investigation in which I see a need for more 162 5. Discussion research. Not least have I observed that there is a strong lack of understanding and knowledge about the design of the environment in ICIs that explicitly addresses the challenges people with neuropsychiatric problems experience. I believe there is an urgent need to develop further research that can address this group’s need for supportive design in ICIs. I would like to name two areas that I see as the most promising for devel- oping both research and design concepts. The first is the design of rooms for inmates, patients, and youths to promote an enhanced, restorative quality of sleep. Second and equally important, there is a need for deepened knowledge for designing both indoor and outdoor environments that promote and en- courage movement. These two areas have been a most essential and recurring theme that has permeated both the data and the research outcomes. 163 Swedish Summary Den svenska sammanfattningen speglar den engelskspråkiga kappan och följer i huvudsak kappans disposition och kapitelindelning. Skisserna återfinns inte i sin helhet i sammanfattningen, läsaren hänvisas till motsvarande engelsk- språkigt kapitel. Inledning Tvångvårdens rum är okända för de flesta människor. Kanske har man sett bilder på inredningen från fängelseceller i media eller träffat en person i ett besöksrum på en anstalt. Några få har egna erfarenheter. Många har nog sett interiörer från fängelser i USA i dokumentärer, dokusåpor och fiktion. Den här avhandlingen behandlar främst tvångsvårdsmiljöer i Skandinavien och till vissa delar (främst teoretiskt), i andra delar av världen. Än mer okänt än fängslets rum är förmodligen rättspsykiatrins. Vård- formen innebär tvångsvård av vuxna personer som vårdas enligt lagen om rättspsykiatrisk tvångsvård (LRV). De har tidigare under sin sjukdom begått allvarliga brott och bedöms inte kunna vistas i det öppna samhället, men målet är att en långsam rehabilitering skall ske. Bland annat genom gradvis öppnare vårdformer. Rättspsykiatrins miljöer skiljer sig mot fängelsets och ungdoms- hemmens genom att de är tydligare avsedda för vård men vården sker också i en högsäkerhetsmiljö med mycket kraftiga begränsningar av patienters tillvaro. Avhandlingens tredje tvångsvårdsmiljö är SiS, Statens institutions styrelses särskilda ungdomshem. Där vårdas barn och ungdomar i åldern 12–21 år i låsta miljöer. Miljöerna är nog lika okända som de tidigare nämnda, även om det rapporteras frekvent om verksamheten i media. Kunskapen om den fysiska miljöns betydelse och vad den kan ha för roll i behandlingen och för verksamhetens mål är begränsad, även forskningen. Avhandlingen kan kort sammanfattas i att den handlar om förhållan- det mellan människor och fysisk miljö i tvångsvård och vad det betyder för 164 Swedish Summary välbefinnande. Den handlar också om hur unga och vuxna människor i tvångs- vård upplever vårdmiljön, hur den gestaltas och vad gestaltningens grunder vilar på. Vidare så är detta en avhandling i ämnet design där utveckling av etnogra- fiska designforskningsmetoder i tvångsvårdsmiljöer diskuteras och specifikt den metod som jag kallar för Sketch and Talk. Otaliga timmar och dagar har tillbringats ”ute på fältet” där människors levda erfarenheter av inredning och möbler har samlats i form av handskisser och nedtecknade ord. Personen som befinner sig i tvångsvård och jag har träffats, oftast på deras egna rum där vi pratat om inredningen, det dagliga livet, minnen och prylar – allt kopplat till designen av tvångsvårdsmiljön. I den engelskspråkiga kappan har akronymen ICI (Institutions for Care and Incarceration) skapats, dels för att förenkla texten, dels för att belysa spän- ningsfältet och problematisera ideologierna och utmaningarna som ligger för design där miljöer att både vårda fängsla skall förstås och utformas. Avhandlingens syfte och mål Intresset för utformningen av tvångsvårdsmiljöer och de ting som finns där har främst vuxit ur min praktik som designer. Där har jag sedan drygt tio år arbe- tat med design av inredningsprodukter som är avsedda att minska självskador och skapa en trygg miljö för patienter, klienter, ungdomar och personal. Inom designforskningen saknas det forskning om inredningens och tingens betydelse inom tvångsvård och avhandlingens syfte är att bidra till designf ältet inom detta område men även till andra forskningsfält inom tvångsvård där ökad kun- skap om den fysiska miljön förhoppningsvis kan bidra till förbättrade resultat. Avhandlingen har också genom sitt ämnesområde, tvångsvård, ett syfte i att föra fram människors levda erfarenhet av att befinna sig i tvångsvård och vad miljön gör med människan, och vad människan gör med miljön. Förstå- elsen för detta dialektiska förhållande är viktigt för att öka kunskapen om de krafter, ideologier, normer och traditioner som byggs in i miljön. Men inte minst för vårdens uppdrag och människors välbefinnande. De nybyggnationer av så kallade standardenheter som görs idag, främst inom kriminalvården och SiS, kommer att brukas i många decennier framöver. Det är med andra ord både en mycket stor samhällelig investering som görs, och en manifestering av ideologiska och kunskapsmässiga strukturer genom material, rum och inredning. Avhandlingen vill därför öka medvetenheten om den fysiska miljöns betydelse för välbefinnande men också föra fram ett Swedish Summary 165 kritiskt perspektiv till den kunskap och tradition som ligger bakom utform- ningen. Designforskningen har länge varit fokuserad på utveckling av metod för designprocessen, men mindre på tingens, de designade ”prylarnas”, bety- delse. Avhandlingen vill bland annat undersöka vad designen betyder för männ- iskors liv i inlåsthet. Syftet är också att utveckla metoder som fungerar i låsta miljöer där säkerhetsnormer begränsar möjligheterna att bedriva forskning. 2016 blev jag inbjuden att vara med i ett forskningsprojekt som syftade till att skapa kunskap om barn och ungas upplevelse av den fysiska miljön på de särskilda ungdomshemmen. Forskningsprojektet beviljades och startade 2017, slutrapporten och en populärvetenskaplig sammanfattning kommer att publiceras under 2023. Det tvärvetenskapliga projektet leddes av Helle Wijk professor vid institutionen för vårdvetenskap och hälsa vid Sahlgrenska akademien, Göteborgs universitet, och gästprofessor vid Centrum för vårdens arkitektur (CVA) vid Chalmers tekniska högskola. Artiklarna IV och V har skrivits som en del av forskningsprojektet. Forskningsfrågor Forskningsfrågorna är formulerade för att öppna för reflektion och ytterli- gare frågor. • Hur ser den levda erfarenheten ut för människor i tvångsvård? • Hur kan designforskningsmetoder användas för att skapa en djupare förståelse och kunskap om vilken roll inredningen spelar för människors levda erfarenheter av tvångsvård? Vad är det för miljöer? Tanken med fängelset i vår tid vilar på fem pelare: vedergällning, inkapaci- tering, avskräckning, rehabilitering och gottgörelse. I avhandlingen är inte syftet att diskutera fängelsesystemet som sådant men en mycket kort beskriv- ning kan ändå vara relevant för förståelsen av fängelset och tvångsvård som en plats för levda erfarenheter. Vid design för fängelser och övriga ICI blir det avgörande om någon av de ovan nämnda pelarna är mer framträdande än de andra. Tar man bort de två sista pelarna och fås ett fängelsesystem baserat på “vedergällning, inkapacitering och avskräckning”. En liknande reflektion 166 Swedish Summary kan appliceras på SiS-hemmen och de rättspsykiatriska sjukhusen, även om det finns en glidande skala av inriktningen på vård och (re)habilitering av de förra i förhållande till fängelset. Klienter, patienter och ungdomar är överrepresenterade vad det gäller missbruk, psykisk ohälsa och neuropsykiatriska funktionsvariationer men även siffrorna för somatisk sjukdom är högre i förhållande till befolknings- gruppen i övrigt. Låga utbildningsnivåer och arbetslöshet är markant högre. Men, man kan också fråga sig vad för typ av bild som målas upp av klienterna i fängelset, barnen och ungdomarna på SiS och patienterna i rättspsykiatrin med hjälp av statistiken. Kanske säger den något ändå. Den berättar en del som är viktigt att veta för utformningen av miljöerna, men säger dock inget om vilka personerna är. Att besöka tvångsvårdsinstitutioner Jag tror inte att det skulle vara möjligt för mig att designa eller forska inom detta område utan fältarbetet men den här typen av platser har inte varit främmande för mig. När jag har besökt institutionerna har det funnits en medvetenhet om tidigare besök hos vänner och familj som vårdats i psykia- trin. Detta var under 1970-, 1980- och 1990-talen. Då var miljön främmande, skrämmande och surrealistisk för mig. Det utspelades signaler, tecken, ord, språk och interaktioner som visade en atmosfär och en rumslig och existen- tiell begränsad värld som bara fanns där och då. Genom besöken har jag kvar en relationsskapande dörr på glänt inom mig. Lyckligtvis är miljöerna annorlunda idag. Stanken av cigarettrök och de matchande nikotingula väggarna är delvis borta. Det har blivit en annan typ av plats. Etiken, arkitekturen, inredningen och vården är sammanflätade och vården som jag uppfattat den har utvecklats för att möta personens egna behov där självständiga val och berättelser står i fokus, vilket är en tacksam utveckling. Trots det behåller jag en viss skepsis till miljön och dess arv, vilket kommer att visa sig i avhandlingen. Sun City Johannesburg Correctional Centre “Sun City” i Sydafrika var det första fäng- else jag besökte under doktorandstudierna (2015). Fängelset badar i ljus på natten, därav det ironiska namnet. Klienterna var uppdelade efter kön, ålder, strafflängd, sexuell identitet och mammor med barn och populationen var då Swedish Summary 167 4 800 personer. En månad tidigare hade jag skrivit till forskningsavdelningen på kriminalvården i Johannesburg och beviljades ett besök. De var mycket tyd- liga med att jag inte hade tillstånd att fotografera eller spela in data. Däremot fick jag ta med skissbok och penna. Under besöket samlade jag data genom att ”skissa och prata” vilket bemöttes med positivt intresse från klienterna. Som på alla fängelser går tiden långsamt. Men besökare innebär inte bara ett avbrott i den monotona vardagen, en besökare är också en potentiell budbärare för att nå media eller beslutsfattare. Den fysiska miljön på fängelset var enkel, de saknade tillräckliga hygien- faciliteter och trängseln var påtaglig. Inte minst för männen där de var 48 män i ett av rummen och delade på en toalett. De privata tingen blir än viktigare då, inte minst gällde det cigaretter och toalettpapper, vilket syns i skisserna. Kvinnor, tonåringar och mammor med spädbarn hade bättre miljöer. Även här speglas svårigheterna i skisserna och de samtal som hanns med vid besöket. Material från “Sun City” återfinns i Artikel II, “Sketch and Talk…” Ett slitet rättspsykiatriskt sjukhus Under 2015 och 2016 följde jag ett rättspsykiatriskt sjukhus väg mot nya lokaler som de flyttade in i successivt från 2017. Jag hade sedan tidigare god kontakt med ”grindvakten” (etnografisk term för den person som s.a.s. släpper in fors- karen). Det var en respekterad och uppskattad person bland kollegorna vilket underlättade fältarbetet. Initialt följde jag processen genom att till exempel delta i mötena med arkitekterna, men efterhand började jag tillbringa mer tid med patienterna på avdelningarna med att skissa och prata. I mina samtal med personalen framkom de extrema utmaningar som kunde inträffa med patienter som var våldsamt utåtagerande. Korridoren på akutavdelningen präglades av säkerhet och kontroll. Det fanns märken på dörrar och väggar som vittnade om smärta och våld. Vid den tunga stål- dörren som ledde in till avdelningen fanns säkerhetsutrustning som sköldar, hjälmar och helkroppsmadrassskydd. De hade inte använts på många år. En av dörrarna var delad horisontellt då de historiskt serverat mat till en mycket utåtagerande patient där dörren behövdes som barrikad. Att bära med mig dessa och många andra berättelser har gjort att jag respekterar att arbetsför- hållandena för personalen ibland kan vara oerhört utmanande. Men jag tänker också på många av de samtal jag haft med patienterna och särskilt de som jag lärde känna bättre. Det var lätt många gånger att knyta an, 168 Swedish Summary särskilt när vi kunde dela musik och filmreferenser. Allt som allt gjorde jag 17 intervjuer med patienter. Förutom intervjuerna tillbringade jag mycket tid på avdelningarna, hängde runt och gjorde observationer. Jag hade goda samtal med personal och inte minst grindvakten. Erfarenheterna från det här rättspsykiatriska sjukhuset har varit mycket viktiga för att förstå rättspsykiatrins villkor och miljö. Det hade varit en stor utmaning med att skriva Artikel II “It’s all but home, It’s Hell…” utan de erfaren heterna. En tork vid vattnet 2017 besökte jag och två forskarkollegor ett särskilt ungdomshem för att dis- kutera det forskningsprojekt vi nyligen beviljats av SiS. Vi avsåg att göra en pilotstudie eftersom våra tidigare forskningsmetoder var oprövade på mål- gruppen. Det var ett mindre SiS-hem vilket var en av anledningarna till att vi ville göra en pilotstudie där. Det ligger i ett före detta öppet fängelse från sent sjuttiotal, men platsen har rötter som anstalt sedan fyrtiotalet. Likt många SiS-hem ligger det lantligt och nära en sjö. Det var märkligt nog en idyllisk plats trots den fängelseliknande inramningen. Alla SiS-hem är statligt ägda och administreras av Specialfastigheter som utvecklar och sköter bland annat de byggnader som hyrs ut till SiS. Det är det tydligt att personalen på ungdomshemmen upplever en alienation till lokalerna då myndigheten inte äger dem och de kan inte heller åtgärda skador själva. Det finns dock olika strategier på SiS-hem för att hantera uppdelningen mellan formellt ägande och praktiskt ägande. En av lärdomarna från vår pilotstudie visar hur kognitivt utmanade ungdomarna var, de är även starkt överrepresenterade med läs- och skriv- svårigheter. Våra etnografiska metoder fungerade dock väl efter viss mode- ration. Pilotstudien genomfördes sommaren 2017 och presenteras i artikeln “Designing for care…” Design och Prylar Designerns praktik – att designa produkter kan uppfattas som målet av design- processen. Men en produkts liv upphör ju inte med dess slutliga design. Det börjar egentligen först när produkten används och levs med någon. Swedish Summary 169 Genom åren under doktorandstudierna och i min praktik har jag blivit mer och mer övertygad om att prylar är så mycket mer än simpla ”kommersi- ella” ting, eller statusuppfyllande ”design” – de har inte minst en ontologisk betydelse för oss människor. De handlar inte bara om göra vardagen enklare eller mer uthärdlig. Prylar är också en vänlig följeslagare i att vara den vi är. Vi blir till med hjälp av prylar, men vi skymmer inte ”vårt sanna inre” genom dem, vilket jag menar är en missuppfattning och myt. Dessutom, i en starkt begränsad miljö blir varandet, identiteten och välbefinnande konstant utma- nat genom inlåsning och begränsningar. I det här perspektivet, kunde det för diskursen inom design vara konstruktivt att fundera över hur människor som äger (eller lånar i inlåstheten) prylar uppfattas och beskrivs. Det finns en hie- rarki i de begrepp vi använder oss av inom designfältet, därför använder jag begreppet prylar (Miller, 2013) växelvis med ting och produkter. Fokus på att skapa den ”rätta” designprocessen och metoder har varit och är till viss del fortfarande betydande inom designteorin. Designprocesser har dock traditionellt varit utvecklade mot en steg-för-steg linjär process för att hitta ”rätt” lösning på problemet. Den här typen av process kan fungera för vissa problem men det finns de definitivt problem man kan beteckna som ”illvilliga problem” (wicked problems) (Rittel & Webber, 1973). Dessa följer inte mallar och ”rätt” lösning existerar inte – det finns i stället flera lösningar som i stället kan betecknas som mer eller mindre lyckade. Illvilliga problem omgärdas av etiska komplikationer, otydligheter och kausala konsekvenser i processen – nya problem kommer att uppstå efter varje definition av problemet. Man skulle kunna säga att design för tvångsvård är i sig ett illvilligt problem. Till skillnad från linjära designprocesser, vilka ibland kritiseras för att de utgår från designerns personliga erfarenheter har det utvecklats mer brukar- centrerade och ”demokratiska” designmetoder så som User Centered Design (UCD) och deltagande design (Participatory Design, PD). Utvecklingen av dessa processer har sina rötter från 1960- och 1970-talets delvis politiska rörelse för att förbättra arbetarnas rättigheter och arbetsmiljö. Man ville designa med snarare än för användarna. En brukarcentrerad designprocess kan uppfattas som ett etisk metod eftersom den i första hand är riktad mot de primära brukarna vilka är de som i första hand kommer interagera med det produkten. Syftet med en sådan process kan ofta handla om att lösa ett viktigt problem, till exempel att hjälpa en per- son med funktionsvariation. Men när brukarna antingen är direkt involverade 170 Swedish Summary i processen, som i deltagande design, behöver det finnas ett förhållningssätt som letar efter andra aspekter än direkta tolkningar av deltagarnas handlingar, åsikter och preferenser. Det är här designerns erfarenhet och kunskap kommer in för att säkerställa att produkten har rätt funktion, ergonomi, och läsbarhet för målgruppen och sammanhanget. När man involverar brukare i designprocessen, särskilt från utsatta grup- per, finns det stora etiska utmaningar. Det är naturligtvis en lockande tanke att den här typen av ”demokratiska” designmetoder skulle vara särskilt lämpade för att ge utsatta grupper medbestämmande. Men det behöver ställas frågor om vem som egentligen har makten att initiera och driva en PD-process, liksom frågor om ägande, maktförhållande mellan deltagare och forskare. Forskarna eller designern har uppenbara fördelar genom att de är initiativtagare, de äger ekonomin för projektet och är de som väljer ut deltagandegrupperna. Med andra ord, det finns fallgropar i den här typen av demokratiska processer där dessa förhållanden behöver åskådliggöras och diskuteras kritiskt. På grund av säkerhetsförhållanden är vissa aspekter av UCD- eller PD- design processer svåra att uppfylla för design av tvångsvård. De repressiva och säkerhetsdominerade systemen ställer sig i skarp kontrast till de emancipato- riska och bemyndigande dimensionerna av deltagande design, oavsett dess omfattning eller syfte. Det är viktigt att komma ihåg detta är slutna institutio- ner och samarbetet mellan externa parter och institutionen inte är jämbördigt. Men det behöver inte nödvändigtvis vara så att design för tvångsvårds- institutioner automatiskt blir odemokratisk och uteslutande på grund av bris- ten på deltagande designprocesser, det är som sagt inte givet att de blir mer demokratiska oavsett. Men, det gäller att vara medveten om konsekvenserna när de här processerna inte är möjliga. Om det inte går att få ett deltagande och delning av kunskap från interner, patienter och ungdomar finns det också en risk att miljön blir mindre inkluderande, mindre ergonomisk, mindre stöt- tande och mindre säker. Därför behövs det också andra metoder för att få in brukarnas levda erfarenhet och unika kunskap. Vi behöver ställa frågor om de särskilda behov som denna grupp har. Kan till exempel gruppens behov tillgodoses eller kompenseras på något annat sätt än med traditionella lösningar? Men, den fråga som föregår alla andra och som behöver ställas är vilken slags mening är tänkt att skapas för brukarna genom inredningen? När vi engagerar oss i brukarens levda erfarenhet behöver vi för- stå på en existentiell och ontologisk nivå att inredningen och prylar påverkar Swedish Summary 171 hur vi agerar, tänker och upplever våra liv. När vi studerar designproblemet, det vill säga de olika aspekterna av något som behöver förändras, behöver vi ta hänsyn till ett antal aspekter av både välbefinnande och illabefinnande kopplade till meningsskapande. Det kan vi göra genom att ”tygla” oss, sakta ner, och hålla en öppenhet till både brukarnas och våra levda erfarenheter som designer i praktiken och i forskning. Genom öppenheten kan vi ställa den enkla frågan “Vad är det som sker?”. Denna fråga kan dock innebära att vi letar efter en beskrivande redogörelse för olika handlingar, behov och lösningar på problem. Vi kan i stället fråga ”Vad är det egentligen som sker?”. Vi kan förstå “egentligen” som en ledtråd till att det alltid finns mer än det vi ser från vår invanda oreflekterande hori- sont av erfarenheter och kunskap. Detta kan öppna upp för osedda lösningar, problem formuleringar och designbriefs än de vanliga. Inte minst i samman- hang där etablerade lösningar misslyckats. Jag skulle vilja föreslå att tyglandet och att bromsa ivern efter den ”rätta lösningen” också är en av de färdigheter som också kan förstås som designers intuition. Erfarna designer besitter bland annat förmågan att kognitivt processa parallella tankar och att gå mellan detaljer och det övergripande (Cross, 2007; Lawson, 2006, p. 212). Intuition är därför inte en magkänsla eller flödande inspiration, utan en uppsättning erfarenheter och färdigheter som pågår med- vetet eller omedvetet. Men, sådan ackumulerad tyst kunskap behöver också medvetandegöras för att hantera illvilliga problem. Att designa för ICI är inte en transparent eller “tam” uppgift. Även om kunden som beställer ett projekt har en väl strukturerad organisation och ledar- skap som är konsekvent och engagerat kommer de fortfarande att behöva han- tera den inneboende konflikten i de projekt som vilar på motsättningen mellan inlåsning och vård. Vanligtvis i ett sådant projekt skapar antalet brukare och intressenter och deras inbördes förhållande förvirring för designern. Det är säl- lan tydligt vem som är ytterst ansvarig och vems önskemål som skall beaktas. För tydlighetens skull behöver identiteterna på de många intressenterna fast- ställas. Dock kommer detta troligen initialt bidra till en komplexitet och otyd- lighet då en kartläggning av intressenterna med största sannolikhet kommer att identifiera ett långt bredare spektrum av personer, organisationer med flera, än vad som förväntades (Triberti & Riva, 2016). Intressenterna definieras genom några olika kategorier; primära, sekundära och tertiära brukare. Intressenternas interna hierarki är sällan transparent och kan bestå av en bristfälligt definierad 172 Swedish Summary struktur där intressenters maktrelationer genererar ytterligare frågor om jämlik- het, etik och motstridiga lojaliteter. I designprojekt för tvångsvård är det inte alltid helt klart vilka som är de primära brukarna men i den här avhandlingen definieras de som klienterna, patienterna, och ungdomarna. Ett illvilligt problem låter sig inte testas eller utvärderas omedelbart, det är unikt och har som sagt inte en förutsägbar lösning, utan en som är den bästa vid tillfället, med tanke på begränsningar och omständigheter. Det är därför inte uppenbart att en tidigare eller liknande lösning kan överföras till det nya problemet. Detta är en viktig punkt som jag menar belyser ett av de mest problematiska tillvägagångssätten för design av ICI. Sammanfattningsvis, vad som kan hämtas från identifieringen av ill villiga problem är att de uppmanar till att se den stora bilden snarare än att hitta den ”rätta” lösningen. De belyser “vad det är som egentligen sker”, inte minst när problemen är bristfälligt definierade. De påminner designern om att kritiskt reflektera över processen som annars tas för given. Designern behöver ha erfarenhet och självförtroendet för att hantera bristfälliga problem genom att definiera, omdefiniera och förändra dem (Cross, 1982), bland annat genom att fråga, ”Vad är det som egentligen sker”. ”Carceral Design” En viktig fråga kan ställas med hjälp av den sistnämnda frågan i förra stycket i förhållande till inredningens uppkomst och arv. Man kan då fråga, ”hur kommer det sig egentligen att det ser ut som det gör i tvångsvården?”. Kan man identifiera och beskriva vår kultur, moral och värderingar med hjälp av de objekt som visas där? Vad har vi för idé om vad det är, eller borde vara att vara människa i tvångsvården? Vad berättar ”egentligen” miljön om vår syn på vården och människan? Inredningen på svenska fängelser, rättspsykiatri och på SiS hem är mer eller mindre ”carceral” (fängelselik) till sin karaktär. Inte minst är detta mani- festerat genom tex rostfritt stål, fast inredning och övervakning som i samman- taget kommunicerar en misstänksamhet genom att den förutsätter att den tvångsvårdade kommer att vandalisera inredningen och skada sig eller andra – det är ett ”misstillitens system” (Hammerlin, 2018; Hammerlin, 2021). I avhandlingen visas en modell (”Fit and Re-Orientation”) som avser att på ett teoretiskt plan beskriva och förklara hur det carcerala rummet skapar störningar i möjligheten till behandlingsallians som verktyg för att patienten, Swedish Summary 173 klienten eller ungdomen skall kunna nå ett välbefinnande och (re)habilitering. I korta drag kan man säga att modellen illustrerar när den carcerala” miljön ”passar” (fit) den ”kriminella/misstänkliggjorda identiteten” riktas individen bort, ut mot det som varit, det destruktiva och det skadliga. Däremot när miljön är designad på ett sådant sätt att den inte triggar denna identifiering uppstår möjligheter för öppenhet och att då rikta sig mot nya möjligheter – att ta sig framåt i livet och nå sina mål. Begreppet carceral design kan bidra till att synliggöra det straffideologiska arvet som många nuvarande ICI lider av. Det kan också underlätta att förstå de mekanismer i den designade miljön som har konsekvenser för människors riktning och öppenhet för vårdens innehåll. Metodologiska och teoretiska frågeställningar De kvalitativa metoder som används i detta doktorandprojekt är valda och utvecklade för att svara på forskningsfrågorna och de specifika sammanhang som är signifikanta för tvångsvården. Inte minst till säkerhet, den faktor som framför allt präglar dessa institutioners organisatoriska, rumsliga och ideolo- giska logik. Att följa säkerhetskrav sätter också begränsningar för datainsam- ling, åtkomst och metodval. Men begränsningar skapar inte enbart hinder utan öppnar även för möjligheter, inte minst för metodutveckling. Det krävs därför ett pragmatiskt förhållningssätt till val av metod för att kunna få tillträde till fältet. Dock är det viktigt att bära med sig hur restriktioner och tillträde kan påverka kvaliteten och forskningsdesignen negativt. Med tanke på det relativt obeforskat fältet mellan design och tvångsvård har tyngdpunkten i doktorandprojektet lagts på fältstudier och metodutveck- ling. Det har varit avgörande för detta projekt att skaffa förstahandserfaren- heter av miljöerna och att komma nära patienters, klienters och ungdomars levda erfarenheter. Likaså har fenomenologiska undersökningar och teorier varit oumbärliga för att skapa kunskap om människors liv i ICI. Både Sara Ahmed och Max van Manens fenomenologiska och sociologiska teorier har varit väsentliga som inspiration för både datainsamling och analys, men också för att begreppsliggöra skissandets rumsliga och relationella process. Inte minst har Ahmeds (Ahmed, 2006) normkritiska begrepp “queer phenome nology” varit betydelsefullt för skapandet av den teoretiska modell (”Fit and Re-Orientation”) som presenteras i avhandlingen, liksom för 174 Swedish Summary förståelsen för hur våra kroppar riktas åt ena eller andra hållet beroende på våra erfarenheters horisont. Genom sina fenomenologiska undersökningar avtäcker Ahmed hur den förgivettagna ”straighta” världen är uppbyggd och manifesterad i den fysiska miljön, liksom vilken betydelse detta får för vår identitet, riktning och möjlighet till välbefinnande. Teorin om existentiellt välbefinnande (Todres & Galvin, 2010) ger ett förhållningssätt för hur väl- befinnande i samband med tvångsvård kan förstås. I avhandlingen definieras välbefinnande som att ha förmågan att röra sig framåt i livet, att vara välfung- erande, att inneha viss kontroll över sitt liv, inneha en känsla av mening och att uppleva positiva relationer. Ur ett fenomenologiskt perspektiv erfar vi världen genom våra kroppar. Det är svårt att inte säga detsamma när man talar om design, inte minst när vi undersöker innebörden av inredning och prylar i en fängelsecell eller ett patientrum. Det betyder dock inte att den teoretiska grunden och tolkning- arna mellan design och fenomenologi är direkt överförbara, snarare att feno- menologin också belyser och skapar ett mellanrum för att fråga, ”vad är det egentligen som sker?”. En forskningsfråga som rör ett fysiskt föremål, till exempel en stol, kan i traditionen av fenomenologisk forskning fråga: ”Vilka är de levda erfaren- heterna av stolen och vad är innebörderna?” Fokus ligger alltså inte på stolen, utan på upplevelsen av stolen och meningsskapandet som uppstår genom vår kropp. För en designer som designar prylar är det likaså den mänskliga upp- levelsen som står i fokus och hur objekten är delaktiga i att skapa erfarenheter. För en designer är det helt nödvändigt med andras erfarenheter för att få en så rik och heltäckande förståelse som möjligt för det fenomen (frågan) man undersöker. Både ett fenomenologiskt förhållningssätt och etnografiska meto- der blir på så sätt viktiga metodologiska val för den här avhandlingens design. Som tidigare nämnts har det varit oerhört viktigt att vara ute på fältet. Under detta doktorandprojekt har jag besökt 48 olika tvångsvårdsinstitutioner i åtta länder. Att göra fältarbete innebär att gå till den plats där fenomenet för undersökningen är och att så långt som det är möjligt delta i de människor vars levda erfarenheter forskaren vill förstå. Fältarbete innebär ett nyfiket för- hållningssätt till den andre och att ta deras vittnesbörd och erfarenheter som viktiga (självklart viktigare än forskarens egna). Men att få tillgång till fältet kan vara en utmaning, inte minst i att få tillgång till tvångsvårdens fält och är i högsta grad beroende av förtroende. Därför är det väsentligt att etablera en Swedish Summary 175 ärlig och etisk relation till grindvakten, men också att komma ihåg vad och vilka man representerar i sin roll som forskare. Att få tillgång är också en förhandling om vem forskaren blir och hur forskaren identifieras. I rollen som ”outsider” kan det accepteras att ställa frågor om “det uppenbara” – att ställa naiva frågor. Man är en vänligt sinnad outsider på besök som kan använda sig av tyglandet. I fältarbetet i det här projektet är det inte otänkbart att kombinationen av metoder och det universitet vilket jag representerar som forskare har haft en positiv inverkan för att bli insläppt. Jag kan också tänka mig att metoderna som används i detta projekt är lättare att acceptera ur en institutions säkerhets- perspektiv och ur ett etiskt perspektiv för deltagare än ett team med forskare som vill dokumentera med video och digitala inspelningar. Vård och inlåsning – ett motsatsförhållande Den teoretiska grunden för min förståelse av fängelsesystemet bygger på teori från min handledare Yngve Hammerlin, Dr. Philos och forskare vid den norska kriminalvården i snart 40 år. I Hammerlins senaste bok “Hard mot de harde, myk mot de myke”(2021) skriver Hammerlin fram hur de straffideologiska principerna står i motsatsförhållande till de vård- och (re)habiliteringsideo- logiska principerna. Detta är en grundstruktur som behöver lyftas fram för att få en bredare förståelse av fängelsesystemet, men den teoretiska grunden är lika grad värdefull för all tvångsvård. Frågan om (re)habilitering och normalisering är central och kan kritiskt förstås som en fråga om avsikten är att normalisera individen, snarare än av fängelsesystemet. I min tolkning visar detta begrepp ett maktförhållande grundat i straffideologi vilket manifesteras socio-materiellt som en integre- rad del av organisationen och ideologin – inte minst genom att ideologin är förkroppsligad materiellt i byggnaden genom carceral design. Även om Hammerlin skriver om det norska fängelsesystemet är listan över förluster enligt min mening relevant för ICI i allmänhet. I mitt eget fältarbete har jag sett hur interner, ungdomar och patienter alla delar liknande förluster. Vad Liebling (2011) sa angående fängelser talar också för ICI: “Smärtorna vid fängelse kan variera beroende på institution, jurisdiktion och kultur och historisk period, men vissa “väsentliga drag” av fängelse och generaliserade svar på dessa drag finns också.” Men, högsäkra fängelser, i jämförelse med lågsäkra öppna fäng- elser, kommer att förstärka intagnas förluster och smärta (Hammerlin, 2015). 176 Swedish Summary Etik Att involvera människor i forskning skall ställas mot nyttan av forskningen och vilken typ av frågor, metoder, deltagargrupper som ingår. Människor i tvångsvård är utan tvekan en sårbar grupp. Dels behöver forskaren vara varsam och vaksam på om individen som på grund av sin sjukdom och kognitiva eller intellektuella funktionsnedsättningar kan ha svårt att bedöma om hen vill delta, men också på grund av maktobalansen mellan forskaren och deltagaren. I forskning med barn och ungdomar är det viktigt att ha deras eget perspektiv och inte ett per- spektiv från forskaren som försöker tillämpa ett barnperspektiv. Detta innebär vidare att forskaren skall bedriva forskning med, och inte på barn och ungdomar. Ur ett etiskt perspektiv är visuella metoder som Sketch and Talk och Pho- tovoice värdefulla eftersom de ger deltagarnas perspektiv där de till viss del blir medproducenter av materialet. Men bara för att en metod generellt anses ha starka etiska kvaliteter betyder det inte att den är hållbart om inte forskningen görs på ett hänsynsfullt och lyhört sätt. I fältarbetet har det varit en viktig del att öppet visa och prata om skisserna och texten innan jag går för att säkerställa att deltagaren kan inspektera materialet innan det lämnar rummet. Utveckling av ”Sketch and Talk” Sketch and Talk kan ses som ett paraply som rymmer olika etnografiska design- metoder. De kan ibland används var för sig, ibland flätas samman. Det kan ses som en fördel att använda flera metoder och verktyg för att förstå feno- menens komplexitet, annars riskeras att antaganden görs, ”man gör som man brukar” vilket kan överskugga djupare lager av deltagarnas erfarenheter. Om till exempel bara observationer görs hörs först och främst forskaren egna ord. Sedan de första skisserna från fängelset ”Sun City”, har skissande och samtal succesivt utvecklats från ett verktyg för dokumentation till en metod där socio-spatial placering, intervjuer/samtal, observation/deltagare obser- vation, dokumentation och föranalys äger rum. Med andra ord, förståelsen för vad som sker i rummet mellan forskaren, deltagaren och objektet har kunnat begreppsliggöras samtidigt som metoden har utvecklats förbi de första stadierna av dokumentation och datainsamling. I Sketch and Talk kopplas forskaren till deltagaren, skissboken och objektet, eftersom de är sammankopplade samproduceras skissen i sin tur av de fyra komponenterna. Swedish Summary 177 Varken forskaren, deltagaren, skissboken eller objektet kan exkluseras – an- nars förlorar det pågående sin mening. Inom den här cirkelns gränser och inom rummets fysiska väggar skapas ett delat utrymme. I processen kan utrymmet sträcka sig förbi väggarna, rummets väggar, institutionens väggar men också genom tid, kropp och relationer. Hur långt meningsskapandet än sträcks ut så är de medverkande samlade kring forskningen av fenomenet och forskningsfrågorna. Vidare upprätthåller utrymmet en ömsesidig outtalad överenskommelse om förtroende, närvaro och fokus. Om avtalet upphör så upplöses också rummets inbördes gränser. Att skissa Den specifika handlingen med att skissa har visat sig väcka intresse och nyfi- kenhet hos deltagarna. Skissandet, och inte minst den framväxande skissen, blir därmed ett verktyg som leder till möjligheter för dialog och erfarenhetsut- byte. Att skissa verkar skapa ett utrymme som har möjlighet att öppna en väg till människors inre värld samtidigt som det stundtals låter oss se tillsammans. I bokkapitlet “Allt annat än hemma – det är ett helvetet…” blir detta tyd- ligt när jag skissar “F” som sitter mitt emot mig i en fåtölj i vardagsrummet på rättspsykiatrin. Vi utforskar fåtöljen medan jag skissar linjer runt hennes och fåtöljens konturer och deras inbördes förhållande och mellanrum. Det ger möjlighet att få ta del av hennes upplevelse av hur hennes kropp riktas genom fåtöljens design och rumsliga position. Jag lär mig varför fåtöljens design ska- par svårigheter för en person med A DHD. Att samtidigt skissa och prata kräver en hög koncentrationsnivå för att upprätthålla samtalsflödet, skissandet, relationsskapandet, den kroppslig posi- tionen och inte minst den viktiga tystnaden. Att skissa och prata betyder dess- utom att släppa taget om det perifera – att låta det, känslor och förutfattade meningar passera. Att vara i skissandets höga grad av koncentration och med- vetenhet (flow) innebär att vara i stunden. Sinnestillståndet bidrar till att lägga undan det för-givet-tagna – ur ett fenomenologiskt perspektiv tänker jag att det kan förstås som att ”parentessätta”. I skissandet blir ljud, temperatur, taktila upplevelser och doftförnimmelser som en sammanflätad helhet, den transkri- beras in med bläck på papper. Skissen är unik, det finns bara en, den kan bara ha gjorts där och då. När jag går tillbaka till skissen i ett senare skede minns jag stunden, eller snarare lagren av ögonblick som nu är förvarade i skissen. 178 Swedish Summary FIGUR 20. Deltagande i en måltid på ett SiS-hem. Ungdomarna har vanliga metallbestick som personalen räknar minst tre gånger för att vara säkra på att inga vassa föremål lämnar matsalen. Måltider är högljudda, intensiva och visar mycket av de organisatoriska, strukturella och praktiska aspekterna av säkerhet. Måltiden förmedlar också kultur, maktrelationer, behandlingsmetoder och ideologier. Skiss av Franz James, 2018. Swedish Summary 179 Att prata I Sketch and Talk använder jag öppna frågor. Öppenhet i sig är också en påmin- nelse om att se och respektera den verklighet som delas av den person jag pratar med. Min erfarenhet är att i mötet med deltagaren är det en absolut nödvän- dighet att vara närvarande och lyssna in den informella överenskommelsen om villkoren. Det handlar bland annat om när börjar man prata, när slutar man, hur turas man om, när pausar man, men också hur man anpassar sig till närheten och sin rumsliga placering i förhållande till deltagaren. Det är deltagaren som sätter spelreglerna, forskare behöver vara följsam och arbeta metodiskt och lyhört. I skissandet kan jag genom att ändra mitt fokus mellan uppmärksam- het på skissandet och uppmärksamhet mot deltagaren (men fortfarande med blicken mot skissboken om jag vill) ställa frågor på sätt som anpassas till situ- ationen, inte minst till deltagarens stämning, dagsform och tillstånd. Deltagande observation Genom deltagande observation interagerar forskaren socialt med den grupp människor som forskaren studerar och genererar kunskap och data genom att delta i gruppens gemensamma aktiviteter. Ofta betyder det att forskaren strävar efter att bli en medlem av gruppen, men det kan även vara en lösare relation. I kontexten tvångsvård blir det av naturliga skäl svårt för forskaren att bli en medlem i gruppen och man kan därför i stället tala om skuggning (shadowing) (Fangen, 2005, p. 31). Att vara på fältet har inte gett mig en naturlig roll som en i gruppen, utan den som ”designern och forskaren”, det vill säga min egen. Åter igen, det är deltagarnas röst som är intressant, inte mina egna upplevelser. Samtidigt kan de vara väl så viktiga för att förstå fenomenet, men det gäller att vara vaksam på hur de olika rösterna skrivs fram och i vems intresse det är att föra fram dem. I Sketch and Talk är citat ofta en del av skissen och kommunicerar del- tagarens egna ord till läsaren genom bilden och texten. Förhoppningen är att detta ger en starkare känsla av att “vara där” och kanske till och med en högre grad av “giltighet”. Detta kan diskuteras, men att sammanfläta text och bild ger enligt min mening rik data och en återgivning av platsen, tiden och det relationella samspelet som var just där och då. 180 Swedish Summary Sketch and Talk och Photovoice Inom SiS-forskningsteamet kom vi att arbeta med Sketch and Talk och Pho- tovoice samtidigt vid flera tillfällen. Photovoice utvecklades som en feminis- tisk deltagande handlingsstrategi och en process för att stärka marginaliserade kvinnor och/eller utsatta grupper genom att göra deras röster hörda. Metoden fungerar så att forskarna identifierar vissa områden av människors intresse för förändring (till exempel i ett samhälle där människor har problem som hin- drar välbefinnande). Deltagarna (i det här fallet ungdomarna) får använda en polaroidkamera för att ta bilder av saker som är viktiga för dem, vilket följs av en intervju med fotografierna som utgångspunkt. Inledningsvis hade vi planerat att använda observation, Photovoice, Sketch and Talk separat men sammanslagningen blev en nödvändig reaktion på ungdomarnas känslomässiga utmaningar och ett par incidenter. Inciden- terna gjorde att vi i alla efterföljande situationer var två forskare när vi var ensamma med ungdomar utan personal. Ändå skapade en samtida använd- ning av metoderna nya och bättre sätt för oss att agera, använda verktygen och utveckla metoderna för att passa sammanhanget bättre. Diskussion I diskussionen vänder jag tillbaka till forskningsfrågorna och diskuterar inledningsvis nuläget och framtiden för Kriminalvården, rättspsykiatrin och SiS som går mot en kraftig expansion av platser. Särskilt stort är behovet hos Kriminalvården och SiS. Behovet av fler platser har ökat de senaste åren och bedöms att öka framöver, inte minst på grund av politikens styrning mot inkapacitering av fler dömda samt längre straff och lägre trösklar för fäng- elsedomar. Det planeras även att införa ungdomsfängelser i Sverige vilket är inskrivet i Tidöavtalet. Detta sammantaget kommer att leda till stora utma- ningar för människor som vårdas på institution. Inte minst kommer psykisk ohälsa öka och det saknas rätt vårdgivande resurser inom Kriminalvården eller SiS enligt dem själva (Grip & Svensk, 2022). Flera organisationer och JO varnar därför för ökningen av psykisk ohälsa, inte minst hos unga. Jag skulle vilja påstå dessutom att situationen kan bli särskilt svår för dem med neuropsykiatriska funktionsvariationer då miljöerna inte är designade för att stödja deras behov. Tvärtom är både äldre byggnader, liksom nyligen Swedish Summary 181 FIGUR 28. Den 12-åriga flickan på SiS-hemmet dinglar med fötterna och berättar om nätterna när hon sover på madrassen på golvet. Skiss av Franz James, 2018. 182 Swedish Summary uppförda, och även de planerade miljöer tyvärr ofta utformade så att de förvärrar måendet. I och med den stora ökningen av platser som vi kommer se de närmaste åren finns det en överhängande risk att designen av de nya och tillbyggda enheterna kommer att präglas av ett oreflekterat synsätt till statisk och dyna- misk säkerhet då detta ofta framförs som ett viktigt skäl till nybyggnation men även upprepas som en brist. Det medför en uppenbar en risk att det på så vis byggs in en straffideologisk logik som kommer att kvarstå genom byggnadens livslängd. Det är därför viktigt att klargöra att tvångsvård och fängelsestraff bygger på principen av frihetsberövande (och vård) – inget annat. Att skissa ”carcerala” erfarenheter Den första forskningsfrågan blir i översättning till svenska: “Vilken typ av erfarenheter i vardagen påförs människor som vårdas i miljöer som är desig- nade för vård och inlåsning?” Forskningsfrågans problemformulering är beroende av metodologiska val och möjligheter och i den här avhandlingen även av särskilda kunskaper relaterade till designerns erfarenheter och praktik, till exempel att generera kunskap genom att läsa och avkoda materiella ting. Skissandets praktik och utförande är på samma sätt en genererad kunskap ur professionen och har i den här avhandlingen till uppgift att bland annat synliggöra det som annars förblir osynligt. Skissandet ges därför även en analytisk process som tillåter att zooma in och ut mellan det redan kända och nya kunskaper vilka genereras i ett flöde av observationer som lagras i skissen. Som en specifik kunskapsproduktion menar jag att denna typ av observationer/seende i forskning kan förstås som en informerad blick och ”bevittnande” (Taussig, 2011) som synliggörs som tyst kunskap i den färdiga skissen. Att bevittna kan förstås som att vara inom det som skissas, att uppleva mer än de tecknade linjernas gränser, att faktiskt gå innanför teckningens linjer och ”bebo dem” och där på plats teckna berättelsen. Genom att förstå skisserna som kunskap och berättelser kan man också genom skissandet ”låna” deltagarnas levda erfarenheter (van Manen, 2016, s. 62). På så vis svarar skis- serna genom en slags tyst, men inte outtalad kunskap, på forskningsfrågan. Skisserna påminner mig om personalens ibland uppgivna röster som berättar att inte mer än en femtedel av ungdomarna efter sin tid på SiS lever Swedish Summary 183 ett liv utan kriminalitet och självdestruktivitet. Samtidigt känner jag också ett visst obehag över att påminnas genom skisserna att livet för många av de ungdomar jag träffat nu tecknas mot en bakgrund av andra institutioner. I en av skisserna sitter en tolvårig flicka på sängkanten och berättar om hur hon nattetid inte kan sova på grund av sin rädsla, ångest och oro. Hon lägger därför sin madrass på golvet för att försöka få trygghet och förank- ring. Berättelsen tecknas genom de linjer hon tecknar och fogar samman sin sömnlöshet med, som också kan läsas i skisserna. Man kan fråga sig vad det är för miljö som den här flickan vårdas i. Är den fysiska miljön på något sätt delaktig i skapandet av hennes livsvärld? Något är skevt om det här skall före- ställa en genomtänkt designad miljö som skall ge barn och unga någon form av välbefinnande och vård. Men det är inte första gången den här berättelsen om ungdomars, patien- ters och klienters erfarenheter vittnar om hur deras kroppar är så invanda till de här miljöernas utformning att miljön så att säga möter, bekräftar och pro- ducerar en identitet av den kriminella eller destruktiva individen (”fit” – den passar). Men i de här berättelserna framkommer samtidigt även att kropparna är lika vana vid den fysiska smärta som produceras genom miljöns bristfälliga utformning som de är vana vid att mötas med misstillit. I brådskan att producera fler platser behöver nödvändigtvis inte högre säkerhet leda till en ökad synlig och straffideologiskt förankrad design. Det är utan tvekan möjligt att integrera säkerhet utan att ta med det carcerala arvet från tidigare generationers institutioner, inte minst genom att förbättra den dynamiska säkerheten genom designen av interiören. Det här är en möjlighet som görs synlig genom att diskutera och synliggöra de traditioner, arv och strukturer som annars präglar tvångsvården. Det går faktiskt alldeles utmärkt att tänka om och fundera på om att göra-som-vi brukar verkligen är en hållbar metod för att uppnå goda vårdresultat, säkerhet och välbefinnande. Designforskning om livsvärlden För att skapa kunskap om människornas livsvärld i tvångsvård ställs den andra forskningsfrågan som i översättning lyder: ”Hur kan designforskningsmetoder användas för att skapa en fördjupad förståelse och kunskap om vilken roll inred- ningen och dess ting spelar i människors levda erfarenheter av tvångsvård?” I avhandlingen har jag därför förespråkat en designforsknings metodik som för forskaren närmare fenomenet, men jag har också försökt förstå komplexiteten 184 Swedish Summary i att använda olika metoder inom ICI och jag har diskuterat de utmaningar som jag har identifierat både i praktiken och genom att reflektera över materi- alet och resultaten. I metodutvecklingen har jag har utvecklat ett metodologiskt förhållnings- sätt längs vägen genom att reflektera i handling och över handlingarna. I den reflekterande praktiken i fältarbetet har metoden Sketch and Talk utvecklats, men som designforskningsmetod skulle den vara av begränsad nytta om det enbart skulle handla om materialitet, form och funktion. Materialitet och materiella ting är bara är det andra ordet i “socio-materialitet”. I designforsk- ningen finns det en större möjlighet än i designerns praktik att skapa ökad medvetenhet om de relationella och sociala förhållanden som uppstår i hand- lingsfältet mellan människors aktiviteter och den materiella världen. Att få förståelse för människors livsvärld i tvångsvård är långt ifrån en enkel uppgift. De rum och miljöer vi vill skapa förståelse och kunskap om behöver levas och upplevas genom våra kroppar. Vi kan pröva att uppleva rummet så nära som det går, till exempel genom att lägga sig på golvet och titta i taket, sitta vid fönstret, använda badrummet, stänga och öppna dör- ren och lyssna till ljudet – alla de handlingar och möjligheter som miljön erbjuder. Som designforskare kan vi som sagt tillåta oss att låna erfaren- heter men vi behöver också skapa våra egna eller förhoppningsvis både och. Här kan forskaren och/eller designern pröva olika sätt att erfara miljön till exempel genom olika typer av prototyper och testrum (mock-up rooms) av patientrum som byggs upp. Det är ofta kostsamma och ”skarpa” prototyper i de material och med de produkter som är inritade i projektet. Jag har flera gånger tagit del av utvärderingar och observerat att rummen inte erfars, utan att man använder sig av enkäter och enkla frågeformulär där det snarare blir en besiktning där miljön betraktas från ögonhöjd. Här finns det möjlighe- ter att förbättra utvärderingarna genom att använda sig av fenomenologisk metod och varför inte stanna upp, ta ner tempot och sätta sig med en skissbok och en penna och samtala om vad som egentligen sker i mötena med tingen. Här finns möjlighet att teckna linjer av handlingar och erfarenheter mellan människorna, inredningen och prylarna. Som diskuterats tidigare kan begreppet carceral design användas för att lyfta fram och förstå innebörden av inredning och föremål i tvångsvård som “kontrollerar, håller och formar kroppen” ( James, 2018). Det inre (ideolo- giska, ontologiska och epistemologiska) och yttre (fysiska) förhållandet mellan Swedish Summary 185 carceral design och säkerhet är en av de största utmaningarna för att generera kunskap och förståelse om inredning och design i tvångsvårdsmiljöer. Det här är ett område som har stora möjligheter att utforskas vidare, liksom spänningsfältet mellan en välgestaltad stödjande miljö och säkerhet. Så länge det sammanflätade förhållandet mellan de olika begreppen inte lyfts fram, utmanas och särskiljs kommer målet att designa för välbefinnande i tvångsvård vara svårt att nå. Hur kan vi förstå mekanismerna bakom att vissa miljöer kan främja välbefinnande medan andra riskerar att orsaka illabefinnande? I kappan och i Artikel V, “Fit and Re-Orientation…” presenteras den grafiska modellen ”Fit and Re-Orientation”. Modellen bidrar med en teoretisk förståelse av hur designen av tvångsvårdsmiljöer producerar en orientering/riktning åt ”det ena eller andra hållet”(Ahmed, 2006). I modellen visas detta genom att den ena miljön (”Fit”) är fängelselik och säkerhetstung, medan den andra miljön (”Re-Orientation”) är anpassad och designad utifrån brukarens behov, dvs en väldesignad och stödjande miljö. ”Fit” innebär även att individen inte för- mår att vara närvarande, blir avstängd, och hindrad från självreflektion och att inte kunna öppna sig för den terapeutiska alliansen ( James & Olausson, 2021). Däremot så föreslår det andra begreppet ”Re-Orientation” i stället en plats där nya horisonter av förändring och hopp presenterar sig. Modellen styrka är dock dess enkelhet i att illustrera hur en säkerhetstung och carceral ideologi hindrar välbefinnande och förändring. Modellen kan även användas i designprocesser för att ge en ökad medvetenhet om miljöfaktorer. En ”state-of-the-art” tvångsvårdsmiljö? Var skulle man börja om tanken var att SiS framtida standardenheter skulle bli verkliga ”state of the art” 23 ungdomsvårdsinstitutioner? Det är en hypotetisk och naiv tanke men som återkommande har dykt upp när jag har besökt SiS ungdomshem. Hur skulle designproblemet se ut? Kanske något i stil med: En institution skall planeras för en mycket utsatt grupp barn och ungdomar där många med omfattande psykosociala problem, allvarlig psykisk ohälsa och neu- ropsykiatriska funktionsvariationer skall ges vård. I den här miljön är avsikten att låsa in barnen och ungdomarna för att skydda dem för att ge bästa möjliga vård 23 State of the art har tyvärr ingen rättvisande översättning till svenska. Här följer ett antal förslag: ”i absolut framkant”, ”det högsta mål man kan sätta”, ”toppmodernt”, ”det bästa i sitt slag”. 186 Swedish Summary under mycket strikta restriktioner eftersom alla tidigare vårdinsatser har missly- ckats. Men var skulle man börja, med SiS uppdrag som kortfattat är att ”ge bättre förutsättningar för ett socialt fungerande liv utan missbruk och kriminalitet” 24. Ett första problem är vilka det är man skall designa för – vilka är använ- darna och intressenterna (stakeholders)? Det kanske verkar självklart men min erfarenhet är att det kan vara otydligt. I en designprocess är struktureringen och hierarkin av användargrupper och intressenter viktig för att kunna belysa motstridiga intressen. Att helt enkelt börja med att skilja ut primära, sekun- dära och tertiära användare är nödvändigt för att reda ut ett illvilligt problem. I den här avhandlingen definieras klienter, patienter och ungdomar som de primära användarna. Som primära användare är det de som direkt inter- agerar med miljön/produkterna men som också är de som påverkas mest av interaktionen (Eason, 1988, pp. 92–94). Men definitionen här i avhandlingen behöver inte betyda att andra gör samma precisering. Men oavsett hur gruppen definieras så saknar den röst. Man behöver då hitta alternativa sätt att föra in de primära brukarnas röster. I tidigare kapitel diskuterades kort några olika metoder, som till exempel deltagande design, men med tanke på gruppens komplexitet kan man i stället behöva ”låna” erfarenheter – att designern går till platsen för människorna, tingen, varat och handlandet. Ett annat problem som dyker upp förhåller sig till själva designproces- sen men också i själva formuleringen av den. Makten ligger främst hos de som formulerar problemet, målet och uppdraget. Men, det är en utmaning att se och formulera problem precis som det är att kommunicera och förstå det som ännu inte existerar. Detta är i och för sig något som designprofessionen är tränade att hantera. Men, det är också ett generellt problem eftersom alla intressenter i ett projekt behöver vara ense om vad det är man vill och vad/hur man baserar sin formulering på – ideologi, ekonomi, politik, inkapacitering, vård? Har man ett illvilligt problem behöver det genomlysas, risken är annars överhängande att man upprepar samma gamla lösningar (men kanske något förbättrade?) gång på gång, vilket är ytterst problematiskt och dyrt eftersom resultaten blir de samma. Dessutom har man endast eventuellt lyckats skapa en något bättre men i princip lika carceral miljö. Därför blir det illvilliga proble- met lika mycket en etisk och ideologisk fråga som ett designrelaterat problem. Det ovan beskrivna tillvägagångssättet är inte märkligt. En förståelse för 24 https://www.regeringen.se/myndigheter-med-flera/statens-institutionsstyrelse-sis/ Swedish Summary 187 hur man traditionellt närmar sig design och designlösningar kan vara en del av att genomlysa vad det är som egentligen händer. Precis som med de flesta produkter som designas är utgångspunkten att göra en gradvis förbättring av en befintlig produkt. Problemet innebär att så länge som man utgår ifrån samma grund, ideologi, förhållningssätt etc och inte kritiskt genomlyser frå- gorna, stannar upp och ger dem tid för att se det som inte alltid är synligt får man samma resultat om igen. Termen ”hill climbing” (bergsklättring) används för att illustrera en ite- rativ process som leder till punkten när “de dåliga egenskaperna till slut har justerats, medan de goda bevaras” Norman (2002, s. 142). Men utformningen av nya standardenheter för särskilda ungdomshem är dock inte i närheten av bergets topp, vilket visas i Artikel V, “Fit and Re- Orientation…”. För SiS-hem har de dåliga egenskaperna ännu inte modifierats – snarare upprepas de, eller i värsta fall förstärkts. För att nå en ”state-of-the-art”-institution behöver man att identifiera både bra och dåliga (carcerala) egenskaper och för att kunna göra det måste tid och resurser avsättas och inte minst kunskap inhämtas. Men man behöver också ta in att tillvägagångssättet hitintills har varit att enbart förbättra det som redan finns. Att ge en designer en brief baserad på att upp- repa dåliga egenskaper kommer i bästa fall att belysa ett illvilligt problem som kan redas ut – i värsta fall har designern inget annat val än att följa briefen. Våld, rörelse och möjligheter I avhandlingen har vi mött flera människor som upplever ångest, maktlöshet och rädsla för att förlora sig själva. I det här sammanhanget kan självskada och självmord, förstås som känsloreglering och handlingar där subjektets begrän- sade handlingskraft tar sig uttryck genom skada mot den egna kroppen och en kontroll av livet självt (Beskow, 2000; Laporte et al., 2021; Petrov, 2010). Det är inte svårt att föreställa sig hur inlåsning ger ytterligare ett lager av maktlöshet till den som redan är suicidal eller utåtagerande. Ur det perspektivet är det inte heller konstigt att ett våldsamt beteende är en del av tvångsvårdens vardag. Det är viktigt att komma ihåg att affekten också hör till de tillstånd som vårdas. För design av miljöerna är därför inte frågan om miljön kan förhindra affekt, utan hur den fysiska miljön kan minska triggers, motverka självskador och kraftigt våld (inte minst mot personal). Skador på inredningen förstås därför i avhandlingen som en förväntad del av vården. Det är därför märkligt att finansieringen av underhåll av inredningen inte är en separat finansiell post 188 Swedish Summary utan ligger oftast som likvärdiga kostnader som tex personal och hyra. Ännu mer problematiskt är det att skador oftast bemöts med ökad säkerhet och en repressiv och kal miljö, eftersom detta innebär att miljön inte kan stötta per- sonal, klienter, patienter och ungdomar i deras mål och arbete. I avhandlingens artiklar visar sig dikotomin mellan säkerhet och design för (re)habilitering på flera sätt. I Artikel V, “Fit and Re- Orientation…” berät- tas det om ungdomar på ett SIS-hem som upplever att de hindrades från att röra sina kroppar som de vill. Jag kommer särskilt ihåg flickan som uttryckte att dans var hennes liv men att hon nu kände en existentiell smärta av att för- lora sig själv. Tyvärr tillät inte utformningen av avdelningen dans, inte heller hennes rum eller något annat utrymme i närheten. Det är svårt att inte förstå detta som en kroppslig och existentiell bestraffning. Foucault (1991, p. 136) skriver om ”fogliga kroppar”. Jag frågar mig därför om det möjligtvis finns en underliggande önskan att disciplinera dessa kroppar genom utformningen av den fysiska miljön? Kan man eventuellt förstå den nuvarande trenden med att designa och investera i lugna rum, cirkadisk belysning, lugna färger och avstressande bilder av natur som medel för att skapa fogliga kroppar? Är kroppar som är lugna, sitter eller ligger ner ett lydigt beteende som produce- ras avsiktligt eller oavsiktligt? Är målet med de fogliga kropparna att visa att förbättring har skett – en fysisk prestation och “en beteendemässig ‘dygd’, i hopp om att bli frigiven” ( James & Olausson, 2021). Skulle man inte kunna fundera på att designa rum för alla former av känslor? Rum där det erbjuds att emotionellt och moraliskt leva känslor och tömma kroppen på ångest, rädsla, ilska eller vilka känslor som helst. Vare sig om människor är inlåsta eller inte, är inte ilska, frustration, ångest, rädsla och psykiskt illabefinnande en del av att vara människa? Det är därför ett märk- ligt synsätt att allt som har med våld att göra ses som oönskat beteende och möts av isolering, repressiva handlingar, bestraffning och förödmjukande våld, vilket visat sig ske på ett antal SiS-hem nyligen (Stiftelsen, 2023; IVO, 2023; Söderin, 2023). Min poäng är därför att vi behöver utforma miljöer för alla uttrycksfulla handlingar av att vara människa. Vi behöver designa både för lugn, vila och rörelse, och se dessa delar av att vara människa som en integre- rad del av vården och välbefinnande, något jag kan tänka mig skulle även ha en positiv inverkan på den terapeutiska alliansen men även minska antalet våldsrelaterade incidenter. Swedish Summary 189 Slutord Jag vill avsluta med att understryka att det utan tvekan finns stora möjlighe- ter att ta vara på potentialen att designa för välbefinnande, men jag vill också föreslå att man behöver ta vägar och använda andra metoder än de redan upp- trampade. Att bara se detta skapar en vidöppen möjlighet att reformera och tänka om, inte minst nu med de enorma investeringarna som görs i utbygg- naden av institutionerna. Det är fullt möjligt att öppna för nya möjligheter där vi kan använda både befintliga verktyg och metoder, men inte minst utveckla vårt förhållningssätt till att designa för välbefinnande. I den här avhandlingen föreslås nya vägar både genom metoden Sketch and Talk men även genom att ”tygla” oss och öppna för ett seende, en blick, där vi kan bygga kunskap genom att ”låna” levda erfarenheter och förstå, både ontologiskt och epistemologiskt, att tolka de linjer som kopplar samman människor, inredningen och ting. Det är min uppriktiga förhoppning att den här avhandlingen kan på ett eller annat sätt stödja statliga myndigheter, arkitekter, designer, intressenter, klienter, patienter och ungdomar att hitta ett förhållningssätt till design där inredningen och tingen ses som verktyg som kan rikta mot nya horisonter av förändring och hopp. Framtida möjligheter och forskning Avhandlingen ger en metodologisk fördjupad förståels och bidrag till att utforma forskningsmetoder för design av institutioner för tvångsvård, men jag vill också föreslå att metoderna kan utvärderas och prövas i en mängd olika miljöer och av andra forskare såväl som praktiserande designer. Men meto- derna har också ett särskilt bidrag till miljöer där forskning med ett etiskt och varsamt förhållningssätt är grundläggande. Dessutom behöver metoderna inte begränsas till forskningssammanhang, de skulle kunna användas i designet- nografi för produktutveckling och ökad kunskap om brukares reella behov. På samma sätt kan metoderna användas inom andra områden än design. Även om de i denna avhandling är begränsade till forskarens förmåga att skissa kan det vara intressant att utveckla metodologiska och pedagogiska sätt att skissa tillsammans med forskningspersoner eller att hitta andra verktyg och utveckla metoder där den omgivande miljön kan utforskas gemensamt för att skapa ett utrymme som möjliggör för samtal och delade erfarenheter. Det är också möjligt med en fortsatt utveckling där metoderna används i andra 190 Swedish Summary transdisciplinära forskarlag som till exempel tillsammans med psykologer eller organisationsforskare. Eftersom denna avhandling främst har fokuserat på metodutveckling ser jag parallellt med detta också ett behov av att utveckla och använda ana- lytiska verktyg kopplade till avhandlingens metod. Jag ser också möjligheter till utveckling/fördjupning/breddning av avhandlingens teoretiska ramverk. Det finns ett antal områden där jag ser behov av mer forskning. Inte minst vad det gäller kunskap om betydelsen och utformningen av miljöer för personer med neuropsykiatriska funktionsvariationer. Men också två områden som har varit ett väsentligt och återkommande tema i avhandlingens forsk- ningsresultat som är kopplade till somatisk och psykisk ohälsa hos personer i tvångsvård. Det gäller dels utformningen av rum för att främja återhämtning genom ökad sömnkvalitet, dels utformning av miljöer som främjar rörelse både i inomhus- och utomhusmiljöer – med andra ord, att skapa välbefinnande. 191 List of Figures FIGUR E 1 3 Nina, sitting on her bed in her cell. I ask why she wants to talk, be interviewed. She says, “You draw, you ask about personal matters of how it is here. Important for others to know.” But I don’t know. I haven’t been an inmate. I visit Nina and I try to understand, not only through our conversation but also through the atmosphere, the smell, the sounds, the temperature, and the stuff. Also: how Nina and I are positioned in the room. I’m sitting on a cold chair, aware of the proximity, how small the cell is. Nina is sort of holding herself with her arms wrapped around her knees. And yet she’s strong and apparently not going to “lose her self.” The room has a pleas- ant smell from the bottles of lotion and other products. The cell is kept neat and tidy. Her fam- ily is present, the kids are there on her notice board. But the board frames relationships and a life that are not present. It creates a weird sense of a feeling I can’t get around: they’re there, but they aren’t. There is something awkward about time, space, bodies, and relations while we’re sitting there. But it’s complex, maybe impossible to describe in words. Yet we were sitting there then – this is how it was. FIGUR E 2 16 Talking with a middle-aged man by his bed. It was fairly warm but not uncomfortable at all. I can’t recall any strong smell either, although there were 48 men living in the large room. There were not that many there during the interview. But there was a lot of sadness and resignation. We were standing up and talking about the circumstances and the stuff. It was a bit rushed, but it felt like a lot got said during those moments. FIGUR E 3 19 We meet for at least the third of fourth time. We know each other pretty well now. It’s a new room he’s moved to after the “incident.” It’s much larger, but on a more secure and restricted ward. The room feels old, it has a scent of old institution. Maybe it’s the plastic floor covering or the smell of old cigarette smoke. Hard to pin down, but it’s recognizable. FIGUR E 4 23 In a special residential youth home. We researchers are talking to a young man (16 years of age) about his previous experiences of SiS homes. There was one that was much better where they had plasma T Vs and PlayStation in their rooms, he says. Before he came here, he tells us, he was on the run for a long time. He’s spent four years in different SiS homes from the age of 12. There is a picture on the wall of his mother. FIGUR E 5 38 SV ID, Stiftelsen Svensk Industridesign (the Association for Swedish Industrial Design). Design process model in which the steps from left to right read: challenge/current state, understand, define, question to develop, ideation, prototyping, test, solution/new state. The left section at the bottom of the model says, “Find the right challenge”, the right section says, “Develop the right solution.” 192 List of Figures FIGUR E 6 49 “Fit and re-orientation,” James and Olausson, 2020. FIGUR E 7 81 Model of the Norwegian prison system’s main tracks. Copyright Yngve Hammerlin (2021). Trans- lation from Norwegian to English by Franz James, 2023. FIGUR E 8 84 Prisoners’ List of Losses. Copyright Yngve Hammerlin (2021). Translated from Norwegian to English by Franz James, 2023. FIGUR E 9 95 Harbor in Molivos. The situatedness and temporal aspect of a sketch is a readable feature. Read- ing the sketch from Molivos harbor and then the sketch from Sun City prison (Figure 10), the drawn lines’ gestures and texture will give different narratives to the situations, but also different interpretations. Sketch by Franz James, 2002. FIGUR E 10 97 Young woman’s cell, Johannesburg Prison. The cell was in a ward where only teenage and young adult women lived. The order and interior were strikingly different and more caring than the men’s ward. In addition to curtains and pillows, the corridors had bright, colorful murals. Sketch by Franz James, 2014. FIGUR E 11 98 Umbrella model of the Sketch and Talk method. FIGUR E 12 100 Sketch and Talk: a temporal, spatial, corporal, and relational process. FIGUR E 13 102 “I cry in here” and in jail “I lost my self.” A young teenage girl in a SiS home. Sketch by Franz James, 2018. FIGUR E 14 104 Johannesburg Prison. A mother-with-baby ward. Twelve mothers with their babies (up to 3–4 years old) shared a room. The beds were along two walls with not much space between them. I asked one of the mothers what makes a home. She said, “A mother makes a home,” then told me she felt they had no human rights, and the children’s favorite color was brown – that’s what the guards wore. She went on to say that the children knew the guards had all the power, so they looked to the guards when they wanted to do something. Sketch by Franz James, 2014. FIGUR E 15 106 Rampton forensic psychiatric hospital, U K. This “ultra-carceral” institution can be described as an antithesis to forensic psychiatric hospitals like Rågården in Gothenburg. On this ward, the interior of the patient room and the ensuite bathroom was molded fiberglass furniture. Sketch by Franz James, 2016. List of Figures 193 FIGUR E 16 109 Sketch of the isolation room at Björgvin youth prison, Norway. I never thought I would say some- thing like this, but it’s one of the most well-designed isolation rooms I have seen. It has several very well thought through features that most similar rooms lack. It has plywood paneling on the left side, daylight window in a position that allows a view from different heights, and there are no 90-degree corners (which is said to mitigate the risk of severe head injuries if one rams one’s head into the corner). Furthermore, the door opening is wide enough for staff and youth to pass through at once, the surveillance window is large and displays clearly when one is being watched, the room is large enough to afford bodily movement to ease anxiety or rage, and lastly the concrete floor is decorated with the silhouette of birds in motion. Sketch by Franz James, 2019. FIGUR E 17 110 Visiting a halfway house in Los Angeles. I asked the man how he liked his bed. He answered, “You ask a simple question, but it’s not simple. No other bed to compare with.” As I remember, he emphasized that he had forgotten what an “ordinary” bed felt like. There were three men living in a rather spacious room (compared to a cell). The restrictions were rock hard. The atmosphere was thick with nervousness and caution. The feeling I got was that the inmates knew that if they didn’t comply with the rules, they would be back in prison by the next day. The halfway house was private and run by G4S. The warden and staff were open and friendly as they welcomed my visit. Sketch by Franz James, 2015. FIGUR E 18 112 Talking with a man about his stuff at a forensic psychiatric hospital. We met many times and we always talked about music and films, primarily from the 1980s. He had a lot of stuff that could be said to be how he maintained his self. When I asked what his definition of home was, he answered, “Home is the bible and music from the eighties.” Sketch by Franz James, 2015. FIGUR E 19 114 Talking with a young woman at Johannesburg Prison. It was an emotionally strong encounter with a person who appeared to have given up. One might say that she had “lost her self.” An interest- ing observation is that the young woman said that “girls don’t steal.” This is opposite to the man that I met earlier at this prison who claimed that he stayed by his bed to prevent his belongings from being stolen. Sketch by Franz James, 2015. FIGUR E 20 117 Participating in a meal in a SiS home. The youth have ordinary metal cutlery that the staff count at least three times to be sure that no sharp objects leave the dining room. Meals are loud, intense, and display much of the organizational, structural, and practical aspects of security. Mealtime also conveys the culture, power relations, treatment methods, and ideologies that underly the institution’s approach to its mission (see Fransson, 2018). Sketch by Franz James, 2018. FIGUR E 21 119 Shadowing. Hanging out with three teenage boys outdoors at the designated space for smoking. Sketch by Franz James, 2017. 194 List of Figures FIGUR E 22 121 Patients and staff planning the daily activities at Rågården forensic psychiatric hospital. I was observing from a position in the living room partition. The jokes and the attitude from the pa- tients maintained a high level of humor. The last question that morning was when the staff sug- gested a walk outdoors at 3.30 PM. The answer from the patients was a simple “No.” Sketch by Franz James, 2015. FIGUR E 23 122 Example of Sketch and Talk combined with photovoice, A photo of the bed taken by a partici- pant. It is a photo that has a meaning to the participant and that is used in the conversation about what matters. The girl says She would like another mattress than the one she has now. Sketch by Franz James, 2018. FIGUR E 24 125 I ask F if this is home. This is all but home, it’s hell, says F. She finds it annoying with the back- rest that blocks her peripheral vision. It’s really disturbing for someone with A DHD she lets me know. Sketch by Franz James, 2017. FIGUR E 25 127 Sketching and talking with a man about homelikeness. Table with cigarette burns. At a forensic psychiatric hospital. Sketch by Franz James, 2014. FIGUR E 26 128 Writings on the wall by the bed in a special residential youth home. The girl says she doesn’t want to put up anything on the walls, doesn’t want to become too comfortable, it’s unpleasant to be there. The writings on the wall say: “Die, run as fast as you can, “Fuck sleep”, “Nobody feels good here, nobody becomes better”. Sketch by Franz James, 2018. FIGUR E 27 130 Traces of messages scratched into the surfaces of the wall and the bathroom door. Sketch by Franz James, 2017. FIGUR E 28 142 A 12-year old girl at the SiS home dangles her feet and talks about the nights when she sleeps on the mattress on the floor. Sketch by Franz James, 2018. FIGUR E 29 143 A mattress on the floor, where a 12-year-old girl sleeps to fight anxiety. A special residential youth home. Sketch by Franz James, 2018. FIGUR E 30 144 “You don’t want to be locked in when you’re a teenager; you kinda want to be with friends,” says a teenage girl in one of the SiS homes. Sketch by Franz James, 2018. FIGUR E 31 145 A young man in a special residential youth home. “I’m used to it.” Sketch by Franz James, 2017. List of Figures 195 FIGUR E 32 150 What I see from the bed in a cell when looking at the ceiling, wall, and door. Sketch by Franz James, 2016. FIGUR E 33 158 A girl at a special residential youth home who wishes to dance but can’t find the motivation to change clothes and walk to the gymnasium hall. She wants to dance in her room or close to her room. Sketch by Franz James, 2018. 197 Summary of the Appended Papers I ”Allt annat än hemma, det är helvetet!” Berättelser om den fysiska miljön på Rågården. James, F. 2017. C. Caldenby & S. Lundin (Eds.), Rättspsykiatri med mänskligt ansikte” (pp. 137–152): ARQ – Stiftelsen för arkitekturforskning. (English title: “Everything but home, it’s hell!” Narratives about the physical environment at Rågården.) The paper portrays and discusses four patients’ experiences of the physical en- vironment at Rågården, a new forensic psychiatric hospital in Gothenburg, Sweden. During field studies in 2016, I sketched and talked with the patients. We met primarily in their rooms but also in social areas and the gardens. The title originates from an informant’s statement expressing her existential pain of not being at home – literally and figuratively. The “Sketch and Talk” method is used, which consists of qualitative, open interviews and visual documentation. Simultaneously while sketching and talking, the sketches are framed with quotations and keywords. A common theme in the patients’ narratives is that they do not consider the hospital their home. This is manifested, for example, in one patient’s deci- sion not to hang anything on the walls. However, other patients have displayed stuff that matters to them as well as drawings and pictures. Nevertheless, it is still not home. Other findings show that certain design features can be chal- lenging for persons with A DHD. Furthermore, the paper illustrates one of the challenges of researching ICIs: it takes time. Interviews frequently had to be cancelled due to the patient’s condition. However, unplanned time can always be utilized for observation or chit-chatting with staff or patients. Another learning that the paper shows is how important it can be to give time to talk about things like music and films or other common ground to create a bond. Naturally, this is easier to do in someone’s room, where there is stuff to start a conversation around. However, this approach differs greatly from interviewing a participant in a meeting room, which would create dis- tance due to the clinical setting. 198 Summary of the Appended Papers One concluding reflection is that Rågården is an unusual place that is not where anyone actually wants to be and is nobody’s home. The following question is therefore asked: “How do you best design an environment that no one wants to be in?” II “‘Sketch and Talk’: An ethnographic design method opening closed institutions.” James, F., 2017. Cumulus Working Papers 33/16: Cumulus Hong Kong 2016: Open Design for E-very-thing. This conference paper was submitted to the 2016 Cumulus conference in Hong Kong, where the first reflections on using Sketch and Talk were presented. The paper discusses the development and use of sketching as a design tool for documentation when doing fieldwork in closed institutions. Furthermore, it suggests that sketching is a mediator for discussing abstract matters such as the interior and is less of an intrusion to the respondent’s space and privacy than other documentation tools such as the camera or audio recorder. From my first time sketching and talking with inmates at Johannesburg Prison (“Sun City”) in South Africa, the method developed into a design re- search method for data collection, which led to field work and further devel- opment of the method at a forensic psychiatric hospital in which it facilitated meeting both patients and staff. The paper displays a section of the researcher’s notes in which talking with participant “L” about different types of wood in furniture leads to the insight that even though “L” likes to work with wood himself, he refrains from the opportunity to work in the wood shop at the hospital because he says it can be life threatening. Furthermore, the paper presents the specific situation of talking and sketching between the researcher and participant in which there is a shared focus on an object, which not only situates the object spatially but allows the researcher and the participant to regard it from the same vantage point. This is illustrated through a model as a tentative first step to analyze the method’s space- and relation-making ability. Moreover, there was an ethical gain in cap- turing data in a physical sketch, since it made it possible to show and discuss the data with the participant openly. Summary of the Appended Papers 199 III “‘It’s important to not lose myself ’ Beds, Carceral Design and Women’s Everyday Life within Prison Cells” James, F. (2018). E. Fransson, F. Giofrè, & B. Johnsen (Eds.), Prison Architecture and Humans. Cappelen Damm Akademisk. In this paper, the narratives of three women who are inmates in a Scandina- vian prison are discussed and portrayed through sketches done on site. These women’s narratives implicitly and explicitly express how corporal and psycho- logical punishment is interwoven into the prison system through the design of the prison cell and its objects. The visual design research method of Sketch and Talk is used to collect data, but also as a place to meet and have meaning-making conversations about the cell’s interior and the inmate’s lived experience. The inmate’s narratives un- cover a micro and macro picture of their lived experience marked by security measures and corporal and existential pain. The discussion reveals the prison bed’s carceral design, damage to the body, and its role in metaphysical journeys. The findings show that the bed is the node of the cell – a place where time flies and an ongoing negotiation with the self occurs. The paper suggests further areas of design that could mitigate the damage inflicted on inmates by prison cell design. It asks why prison cells remain undeveloped while our domestic interiors have become smarter and follow developing needs, and also why we don’t let the design of the cell support the “keeping of the self ” rather than threatening to “lose it,” in the words of Nina, one of the inmates. IV “Designing for care: employing ethnographic design methods at special care homes for young offenders – a pilot study” James, F., & Olausson, S., 2018. Design for Health, 2:1, 127–141. This paper discusses a pilot study’s method evaluation and findings within the SiS research project. The researchers conducted fieldwork at a Swedish special residential youth home that was located in a former prison. Sketch and Talk and Photovoice were used in participatory observation (shadow- ing) and interviews with young men 16–21 years old. The methods were shown to work in a context in which they had not been trialed before, and several positive gains were registered. Furthermore, both methods opened 200 Summary of the Appended Papers up for talking and engaging the youths in engaging in and talking about the abstract issues of the physical environment. However, some modifications were necessary due to challenges related to the context and the young men’s specific life situations. The youths’ narratives revealed how feeling at home in a prison-like setting confirmed an identity marked by criminality and anti-social behavior rather than pointing to possibilities of change. Here theory from phenomenology by Sara Ahmed and Max van Manen brought out the youth’s directionality (orientation) when entering a special residential youth home. Moreover, crit- ical reading and analysis of the material revealed three subthemes based on one of van Manen’s life world existentials: “lived space-spatiality.” Within this theme, three subthemes were identified: being elsewhere – inherent meaning of objects and place; being punished – by the physical environment; and being disempowered – fighting for dignity. Following the findings, the design of the physical environment should introduce design features from an everyday setting in the outside world to engage and point to possibilities of change. The methods worked as hoped for with the target group. V “‘Fit and Re- Orientation’ Carceral Heritage in Contemporary Design of Special Residential Homes for Youth and Its Impact on Wellbeing”. James, F., & Olausson, S., 2021. Brill. This paper discusses the material and findings within the SiS research project based on material collected from special residential youth homes in Sweden between 2017 and 2018. The paper was published in the anthology Negoti- ating Institutional Heritage and Wellbeing, which was made possible through the research node Heritage and Wellbeing at the Centre for Critical Heritage Studies at the University of Gothenburg. Considering the carceral design of youth homes, the paper calls for an awakening to the risk of jeopardizing incarcerated children and adolescents’ well-being and health. With the current development in Sweden toward longer sentences, higher security, and more beds, the impact of carceral design heritage can no longer be neglected, as its negative impact on care outcomes is apparent. Summary of the Appended Papers 201 The visual research methods Sketch and Talk and Photovoice are used to understand how lived experiences, orientation, and rehabilitation of young incarcerated bodies are affected by the past in the present and for the future. Moreover, this paper discusses the layers of carceral design heritage by bor- rowing the lens of critical heritage and phenomenology, primarily with the- ory inspired by Sara Ahmed and Max van Manen. The explanatory model of “Fit and Reorientation” is introduced here to illustrate how carceral design heritage produces a breakdown in the critical therapeutic alliance between youths and staff. The paper concludes by calling attention to the urgent need for decision makers to critically consider the design of current and future special residential youth homes if they are intended to be a place for “re-ori- entation” and change. 203 List of All Published Papers During the Doctoral Studies • ”Allt annat än hemma, det är helvetet!” Berättelser om den fysiska miljön på Rågården. James, F. 2017. C. Caldenby & S. Lundin (Eds.), Rättspsykiatri med mänskligt ansikte” (pp. 137–152): ARQ – Stiftelsen för arkitekturforskning. (English title: “Everything but home, it’s hell!” Narratives about the physical environment at Rågården.) • “‘Sketch and Talk’: An ethnographic design method opening closed institutions.” James, F., 2017. Cumulus Working Papers 33/16: Cumulus Hong Kong 2016: Open Design for E-very-thing. • “‘It’s important to not lose myself ’ Beds, Carceral Design and Women’s Everyday Life within Prison Cells” James, F. (2018). E. Fransson, F. Giofrè, & B. Johnsen (Eds.), Prison Architecture and Humans. Cappelen Damm Akademisk. • “Designing for care: employing ethnographic design methods at special care homes for young offenders – a pilot study” James, F., & Olausson, S., 2018. Design for Health, 2:1, 127–141. • “‘Fit and Re- Orientation’ Carceral Heritage in Contemporary Design of Special Residential Homes for Youth and Its Impact on Wellbeing”. James, F., & Olausson, S., 2021. Brill. • Ethical challenges conducting research in environments for incarcerated children and adolescents. 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Göteborg, 2008 ISBN: 978-91-977757-7-9 ISBN: 978-91-975911-8-8 Art Monitor 13 Harald Stenström (Musical 20 Sven Kristersson (Musical Performance Performance and Interpretation) and Interpretation) Free Ensemble Improvisation Sångaren på den tomma spelplatsen – en ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2009 poetik. Att gestalta Gilgamesheposet och ISBN: 978-91-977757-8-6 sånger av John Dowland och Evert Taube ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2010 14 Ragnhild Sandberg Jurström (Music ISBN: 978-91-977758-9-2 Education) Att ge form åt musikaliska gestaltningar. 21 Cecilia Wallerstedt (Research on Arts En socialsemiotisk studie av körledares Education) multimodala kommunikation i kör Att peka ut det osynliga i rörelse. En ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2009 didaktisk studie av taktart i musik ISBN: 978-91-977757-9-3 ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2010 ISBN: 978-91-978477-0-4 15 David Crawford (Digital Representation) 22 Cecilia Björck (Music Education) Art and the Real-time Archive: Claiming Space: Discourses on Gender, Relocation, Remix, Response Popular Music, and Social Change ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2009 ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2011 ISBN: 978-91-977758-1-6 ISBN: 978-91-978477-1-1 16 Kajsa G Eriksson (Design) 23 Andreas Gedin (Fine Arts) Concrete Fashion: Dress, Art, and Jag hör röster överallt – Step by Step Engagement in Public Space ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2011 ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2009 ISBN: 978-91-978477-2-8 ISBN: 978-91-977758-4-7 24 Lars Wallsten (Photographic 17 Henric Benesch (Design) Representation) Kroppar under träd – en miljö för Anteckningar om Spår konstnärlig forskning ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2011 ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2010 ISBN: 978-91-978477-3-5 ISBN: 978-91-977758-6-1 25 Elisabeth Belgrano (Performance in 18 Olle Zandén (Music Education) Theatre and Drama) Samtal om samspel. “Lasciatemi morire” o farò “La Finta Kvalitetsuppfattningar i musiklärares Pazza”: Embodying Vocal Nothingness on dialoger om ensemblespel på gymnasiet Stage in Italian and French 17th century ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2010 Operatic Laments and Mad Scenes ISBN: 978-91-977758-7-8 ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2011 ISBN: 978-91-978477-4-2 19 Magnus Bärtås (Fine Arts) You Told Me – work stories and video 26 Christian Wideberg (Research on Arts essays / verkberättelser och videoessäer Education) ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2010 Ateljésamtalets utmaning – ett ISBN: 978-91-977758-8-5 bildningsperspektiv ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2011 ISBN: 978-91-978477-5-9 Art Monitor 27 Katharina Dahlbäck (Research on Arts 34 Anniqa Lagergren (Research on Arts Education) Education) Musik och språk i samverkan. En Barns musikkomponerande i tradition aktionsforskningsstudie i årskurs 1 och förändring ArtMonitor, licentiate thesis. ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2012 Göteborg, 2011 ISBN: 978-91-979993-1-1 ISBN: 978-91-978477-6-6 35 Ulrika Wänström Lindh (Design) 28 Katharina Wetter Edman (Design) Light Shapes Spaces: Experience of Service design – a conceptualization of an Distribution of Light and Visual Spatial emerging practice Boundaries ArtMonitor, licentiate thesis. ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2012 Göteborg, 2011 ISBN: 978-91-979993-2-8 ISBN: 978-91-978477-7-3 36 Sten Sandell (Musical Performance and 29 Tina Carlsson (Fine Arts) Interpretation) the sky is blue På insidan av tystnaden Kning Disk, diss. Göteborg, 2011 ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2013 ISBN: 978-91-976667-2-5 ISBN: 978-91-979993-3-5 30 Per Anders Nilsson (Musical 37 Per Högberg (Musical Performance and Performance and Interpretation) Interpretation) A Field of Possibilities: Designing and Orgelsång och psalmspel. Musikalisk Playing Digital Musical Instruments gestaltning av församlingssång ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2011 ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2013 ISBN: 978-91-977477-8-0 ISBN: 978-91-979993-4-2 31 Katarina A Karlsson (Musical 38 Fredrik Nyberg (Literary Composition, Performance and Interpretation) Poetry and Prose) Think’st thou to seduce me then? Hur låter dikten? Att bli ved II Impersonating female personas in songs Autor, diss. Göteborg, 2013 by Thomas Campion (1567-1620) ISBN: 978-91-979948-2-8 ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2011 ISBN: 978-91-978477-9-7 39 Marco Muñoz (Digital Representation) Infrafaces: Essays on the Artistic 32 Lena Dahlén (Performance in Theatre Interaction and Drama) ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2013 Jag går från läsning till gestaltning – ISBN: 978-91-979993-5-9 beskrivningar ur en monologpraktik Gidlunds förlag, diss. Göteborg, 2012 40 Kim Hedås (Musical Performance and ISBN: 978-91-7844-840-1 Interpretation) Linjer. Musikens rörelser – komposition i 33 Martín Ávila (Design) förändring Devices. On Hospitality, Hostility and ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2013 Design ISBN: 978-91-979993-6-6 ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2012 ISBN: 978-91-979993-0-4 Art Monitor 41 Annika Hellman (Research on Arts 46 Niclas Östlind (Photography) Education) Performing History. Fotografi i Sverige Intermezzon i medieundervisningen 1970-2014 – gymnasieelevers visuella röster och ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2014 subjektspositioneringar ISBN: 978-91-981712-0-4 ArtMonitor, licentiate thesis. Göteborg, 2013 47 Carina Borgström Källén (Research on ISBN: 978-91-979993-8-0 (Printed) Arts Education) ISBN: 978-91-981712-5-9 (Digital) När musik gör skillnad – genus och genrepraktiker i samspel 42 Marcus Jahnke (Design) ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2014 Meaning in the Making. An Experimental ISBN: 978-91-981712-1-1 (Printed) Study on Conveying the Innovation ISBN: 978-91-981712-2-8 (Digital) Potential of Design Practice to Non- designerly Companies 48 Tina Kullenberg (Research on Arts ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2013 Education) ISBN: 978-91-979993-7-3 Signing and Singing – Children in Teaching Dialogues 43 Anders Hultqvist (Musicology. Artistic ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2014 track) ISBN: 978-91-981712-3-5 (Printed) Komposition. Trädgården – som ISBN: 978-91-981712-4-2 (Digital) förgrenar sig. Några ingångar till en kompositorisk praktik 49 Helga Krook (Literary Composition, Skrifter från musikvetenskap nr.102, Poetry and Prose) diss. Göteborg, 2013. Minnesrörelser ISBN: 978-91-85974-19-1 Autor, diss. Göteborg, 2015 Department of Cultural Sciences, ISBN 978-91-979948-7-3 Faculty of Arts, in cooperation with Academy of Music and Drama, Faculty 50 Mara Lee Gerdén (Literary of Fine, Applied and Performing Arts Composition, Poetry and Prose) När andra skriver: skrivande som 44 Ulf Friberg (Performance in Theatre motstånd, ansvar och tid and Drama) Glänta produktion, diss. Göteborg, Den kapitalistiska skådespelaren – aktör 2014 eller leverantör? ISBN: 978-91-86133-58-0 Bokförlaget Korpen, diss. Göteborg, 2014 51 João Segurado (Musical Performance ISBN: 978-91-7374-813-1 and Interpretation, in cooperation with Luleå University of Technology) 45 Katarina Wetter Edman (Design) Never Heard Before – A Musical Design for Service: A framework for Exploration of Organ Voicing exploring designers’ contribution as ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg/Luleå 2015 interpreter of users’ experience ISBN: 978-91-981712-6-6 (Printed) ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2014 ISBN: 978-91-981712-7-3 (Digital) ISBN 978-91-979993-9-7 Art Monitor 52 Marie-Louise Hansson Stenhammar 58 Johan Petri (Performance in Theatre (Research on Arts Education) and Music Drama) En avestetiserad skol- och lärandekultur. The Rhythm of Thinking. Immanence and En studie om lärprocessers estetiska Ethics in Theater Performance dimensioner ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2016 ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2015 ISBN: 978-91-982423-0-0 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-981712-8-0 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-982423-1-7 (Digital) ISBN: 978-91-981712-9-7 (Digital) 59 Cecilia Grönberg (Photography) 53 Lisa Tan (Fine Arts) Händelsehorisont || Event horizon. For every word has its own shadow Distribuerad fotografi ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2015 OEI editör, diss. Stockholm, 2016 ISBN 978-91-982422-0-1 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-85905-85-0 (Printed) ISBN 978-91-982422-1-8 (Digital) ISBN: 978-91-85905-86-7 (Digital) 54 Elke Marhöfer (Fine Arts) 60 Andrew Whitcomb (Design) Ecologies of Practices and Thinking (re)Forming Accounts of Ethics in ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2015 Design: Anecdote as a Way to Express the ISBN 978-91-982422-2-5 (Printed) Experience of Designing Together ISBN 978-91-982422-3-2 (Digital) ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2016 ISBN: 978-91-982423-2-4 (Printed) 55 Birgitta Nordström (Crafts) ISBN: 978-91-982423-3-1 (Digital) I ritens rum – om mötet mellan tyg och människa 61 Märtha Pastorek Gripson (Research on ArtMonitor, licentiate thesis. Göteborg, Arts Education) 2016 Positioner i dans – om genus, ISBN: 978-91-982422-4-9 (Printed) handlingsutrymme och dansrörelser i ISBN 978-91-982422-5-6 (Digital) grundskolans praktik ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2016 56 Thomas Laurien (Design) ISBN 978-91-982422-6-3 (Printed) Händelser på ytan – shibori som ISBN 978-91-982422-7-0 (Digital) kunskapande rörelse ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2016 62 Mårten Medbo (Crafts) ISBN: 978-91-982422-8-7 (Printed) Lerbaserad erfarenhet och språklighet ISBN 978-91-982422-9-4 (Digital) ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2016 ISBN: 978-91-982423-4-8 (Printed) 57 Annica Karlsson Rixon (Photography) ISBN: 978-91-982423-5-5 (Digital) Queer Community through Photographic Acts. Three Entrances to an Artistic 63 Ariana Amacker (Design) Research Project Approaching LGBTQI A Embodying Openness: A Pragmatist Russia Exploration into the Aesthetic Experience Art and Theory Publishing, diss. of Design Form-Giving Stockholm, 2016 ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2017 ISBN: 978-91-88031-03-7 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-982423-6-2 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-88031-30-3 (Digital) ISBN: 978-91-982423-7-9 (Digital) Art Monitor 64 Lena O Magnusson (Research on Arts 69 Åsa Stjerna (Musical Performance and Education) Interpretation) Treåringar, kameror och förskola – en Before Sound: Transversal Processes in serie diffraktiva rörelser Site-Specific Sonic Practice ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2017 ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2018 ISBN: 978-91-982423-8-6 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-7833-213-7 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-982423-9-3 (Digital) ISBN: 978-91-7833-214-4 (Digital) 65 Arne Kjell Vikhagen (Digital 70 Frida Hållander (Crafts) Representation) Vems hand är det som gör? En systertext When Art Is Put Into Play. A Practice- om konst/hantverk, klass, feminism och based Research Project on Game Art om viljan att ta strid ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2017 ArtMonitor/Konstfack Collection, diss. ISBN: 978-91-982421-5-7 (Printed) Stockholm, 2019 ISBN: 978-91-982421-6-4 (Digital) 978-91-85549-40-5 (Printed) 978-91-85549-41-2 (Digital) 66 Helena Kraff (Design) HDK – Academy of Design and Exploring pitfalls of participation and Crafts, University of Gothenburg, in ways towards just practices through a cooperation with Konstfack, University participatory design process in Kisumu, of Arts, Crafts and Design, Stockholm Kenya ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2018 71 Thomas Nyström (Design) ISBN: 978-91-982421-7-1 (Printed) Adaptive Design for Circular Business ISBN: 978-91-982421-8-8 (Digital) Models in the Automotive Manufacturing Industry 67 Hanna Nordenhök (Literary ArtMonitor, licentiate thesis. Göteborg, Composition, Poetry and Prose) 2019 Det svarta blocket I världen. Läsningar, ISBN: 978-91-985171-2-5 (Printed) samtal, transkript ISBN: 978-91-985171-3-2 (Digital) Rámus., diss. Göteborg, 2018 ISBN 978-91-86703-85-1 (Printed) 72 Marina Cyrino (Musical Performance ISBN 978-91-86703-87-5 (Digital) and Interpretation) An Inexplicable Hunger – flutist) 68 David N.E. McCallum (Digital body(flute (dis)encounters Representation) ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2019 Glitching the Fabric: Strategies of New ISBN: 978-91-7833-382-0 (Printed) Media Art Applied to the Codes of ISBN: 978-91-7833-383-7 (Digital) Knitting and Weaving ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2018 ISBN: 978-91-7833-139-0 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-7833-140-6 (Digital) Art Monitor 73 Imri Sandström (Literary Composition, 78 Cecilia Jeppsson (Research on Arts Poetry and Prose) Education) Tvärsöver otysta tider: Att skriva “Rörlig och stabil, bred och spetsig”. genom Västerbottens och New Englands Kulturell reproduktion och strategier historier och språk tillsammans med för breddat deltagande i den svenska texter av Susan Howe / Across Unquiet kulturskolan Times: Writing Through the Histories ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2020 and Languages of Västerbotten and ISBN: 978-91-7833-832-0 (Printed) New England in the Company of Works ISBN: 978-91-7833-833-7 (Digital) by Susan Howe Autor, diss. Göteborg, 2019 79 Annelies Vaneycken (Design) ISBN: 978-91-984037-3-2 (Printed) Designing ‘for’ and ‘with’ ambiguity: ISBN: 978-91-984037-4-9 (Digital) actualising democratic processes in participatory design practices with 74 Patrik Eriksson (Independent children Filmmaking) ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2020 Melankoliska fragment: om essäfilm och ISBN: 978-91-7833-858-0 (Printed) tänkande ISBN: 978-91-7833-859-7 (Digital) ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2019 ISBN: 978-91-7833-566-4 (Printed) 80 Niklas Rudbäck (Research on Arts ISBN: 978-91-7833-567-1 (Digital) Education) Circumscribing Tonality: Upper 75 Nicolas Cheng (Crafts) Secondary Music Students Learning the World Wide Workshop: The Craft of Circle of Fifths Noticing ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2020 ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2019 ISBN: 978-91-8009-028-5 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-7833-610-4 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-8009-029-2 (Digital) ISBN: 978-91-7833-611-1 (Digital) 76 Magdalena Mayas (Musical 81 Eva Weinmayr (Artistic Practice) Performance and Interpretation) Noun to Verb: an investigation into the Orchestrating timbre – Unfolding micro-politics of publishing through processes of timbre and memory in artistic practice improvisational piano performance ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2020 ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2020 https://cutt.ly/noun-to-verb ISBN: 978-91-7833-722-4 (Printed) http://hdl.handle.net/2077/66644 ISBN: 978-91-7833-723-1 (Digital) No ISBN 77 Ingrid Hedin Wahlberg (Music 82 Khashayar Naderehvandi (Artistic Education) Practice) Att göra plats för traditioner. Antagonism Vem vittnar för vittnet? Det litterära och kunskapsproduktion inom folk- och verket som vittnesmål och översättning världsmusik Autor, diss. Göteborg, 2020 ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2020 ISBN: 978-91-984037-7-0 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-7833-830-6 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-984037-8-7 (Digital) ISBN: 978-91-7833-831-3 (Digital) Art Monitor 83 Joakim Andersson (Research on Arts 89 Hedvig Jalhed (Performance Practices) Education) An Operatic Game-Changer: The Opera Kommunikation i slöjd och Maker as Game Designer and the hantverksbaserad undervisning Potentials of Ludo-Immersive Opera ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2021 ArtMonitor, diss Göteborg, 2022 ISBN: 978-91-8009-194-7 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-8009-608-9 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-8009-195-4 (Digital) ISBN: 978-91-8009-609-6 (Digital) 84 Andjeas Ejiksson (Artistic Practice) 90 Eva La Cour (Artistic Practice) Television Without Frontiers Geo-Aesthetical Discontent: The Figure of ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2021 the Guide, Svalbard and Skilled Visions ISBN: 978-91-8009-208-1 (Printed) ArtMonitor, diss Göteborg, 2022 ISBN: 978-91-8009-209-8 (Digital) ISBN: 978-91-8009-648-5 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-8009-649-2 (Digital) 85 Monica Frick Alexandersson (Research on Arts Education) 91 Kerstin Hamilton (Artistic Practice) Omsorg, välvilja och tystnadskultur – The Objectivity Laboratory: Propositions diskursiva dilemman och strategier i on Documentary Photography lärarutbildningens undervisningspraktik ArtMonitor, diss Göteborg, 2022 i musik mot yngre åldrar ISBN: 978-91-8009-725-3 (Printed) ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2021 ISBN: 978-91-8009-726-0 (Digital) ISBN: 978-91-8009-276-0 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-8009-277-7 (Digital) 92 Tomas Löndahl (Musical Performance and Interpretation) 86 Uwe Steinmetz (Musical Performance Den klingande verklighetens and Interpretation) föränderlighet: Mot ett vidgat Jazz in Worship and Worship in Jazz: The gestaltningsutrymme musical language of Liturgical, Sacred, ArtMonitor, diss Göteborg, 2022 and Spiritual Jazz in a Postsecular Age ISBN: 978-91-8009-785-7 (Printed) ArtMonitor, diss. Göteborg, 2021 ISBN: 978-91-8009-786-4 (Digital) ISBN: 978-91-8009-386-6 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-8009-387-3 (Digital) 93 Emelie Röndahl (Crafts) Crying Rya: A Practitioner’s Narrative 87 Helena Hansson (Design) Through Hand Weaving Designing Together: A Frugal Design ArtMonitor, diss Göteborg, 2022 Approach. Exploring Participatory Design ISBN: 978-91-8009-901-1 (Printed) in a Global North-South Cooperation ISBN: 978-91-8009-902-8 (Digital) Context (Sweden–Kenya) ArtMonitor, diss Göteborg, 2021 ISBN: 94 Emma Gyllerfelt (Research on Arts 978-91-8009-464-1 (Printed) Education) 978-91-8009-465-8 (Digital) Slöjdundervisning med nyanlända elever – om multimodal interaktion och 88 André Alves (Artistic Practice) kommunikation i slöjdklassrum A Never-Ending Thirst: Artistic Reforms ArtMonitor, diss Göteborg, 2023 to Neoliberal-Teflon Imperviousness ISBN: 978-91-8069-147-5 (Printed) ArtMonitor, diss Göteborg, 2021 ISBN: ISBN: 978-91-8069-148-2 (Digital) 978-91-8009-528-0 (Printed) 978-91-8009-529-7 (Digital) Art Monitor 95 Franz James (Design) “Sketch and Talk” – Drawing Lines Between Humans, the Interior, and Stuff. Design Methodologies for Well-Being in Prisons, Forensic Psychiatric Hospitals, and Special Residential Youth Homes ArtMonitor, diss Göteborg, 2023 ISBN: 978-91-8069-149-9 (Printed) ISBN: 978-91-8069-150-5 (Digital) Art Monitor No. 95 Franz James “Sketch and Talk” Drawing Lines Between Humans, the Interior, and Stuff Art Monitor