Suspension of Disbelief
Some time ago, colleagues of mine brought to my attention an old theatrical concept: Suspension of Disbelief. The team was using the concept to help support a number of design decisions that had been made in a project.
English writer Samuel Taylor Coleridge coined the term in the early 19th centenary to describe oneâs willingness to suspend their critical faculties in order to allow themselves to briefly believe in something surreal. It is a sacrifice of logic and rationality for the sake of enjoyment and pleasure.
When we read a novel, listen to a story, watch a film, etc., there is something taking place in our minds that allows us, for that brief duration, to fall into a world of imaginary. In other words, weâre willingly ignoring our basic understanding of reality because our desire to become part of whatever imaginary world is being laid out in front of us is too great.
A good example of this is Peter Pan in the play âThe Boy Who Wouldnât Grow Upâ. Anyone who watches the play does not truly believe that Peter Pan can fly. We also do not believe in magic and we understand the science behind gravity well enough to know that the storyline is fictional and not real. Yet, at that moment when we are in the theatre watching this eternal boy fly with the help of fairy dust and happy thoughts, our desire to engage with the story supersedes all. We are willingly suspending our disbelief despite having clear sight of the suspension cables that the actor is using to swing over the stage. We are choosing to ignore them because we want to believe in the fantasy of the story.
It seems clear to me that Suspension of Disbelief is, for the most part, an internal process. However, I also suspect that onesâ surroundings, or more importantly the lighting environment we find ourselves in, can facilitate this process.Â
To return with the example of the play Peter Pan, one could argue that our suspension of disbelief is a far richer experience when the lighting hierarchy and brightness composition of the theatre has dimmed the auditorium wall lighting down to a point where we forget the walls are even there. The lit environment is allowing us to ignore the wall and focus on the main character. We could ask ourselves how engaged would we be if the stage lighting rather focused on the contraptions and suspension cables that allowed the actor to swing from one end of the stage to the other. We would probably find it quite distracting from the story.
Another example that comes to mind is the saying: a room that is well daylit and painted with light colours will feel ample and larger than it really is. I think this provides us with a hint towards the crux of todayâs thought experiment. What is lighting environment doing to make the room feel ample if the roomâs dimensions have not physically changed?
Our willingness to suspend our disbelief is influenced greatly by what the lighting design is revealing and concealing from us. What is happening in the bright room is that there is more to see, not that the room is larger. It is also possible to flip this on its head and ask what do we experience when we selectively conceal. Surely this must have an equivalent level perceptual influence. Once we get our heads around this concept than we start to understand the importance of lighting in the architectural experience.Â
Todayâs blog is a good reminder that our basic understanding of the world is predominantly visual. Light is what we see and inevitably, it influences how we experience and understand what is around us.
















