Lear­ning from Iceland

When people talk about swim­ming pools, the conver­sa­tion usually revolves around pool sizes, water treat­ment, energy solu­tions, or opera­ting costs. Some­times it’s about archi­tec­ture. But it’s almost never about what happens between people.

That is precisely where Iceland’s contri­bu­tion to the 20th Venice Archi­tec­ture Bien­nale comes in.

Under the title SOAK – Rituals of Coll­ec­tive Belon­ging, the pavi­lion does not focus on spec­ta­cular archi­tec­tural forms or visio­nary struc­tures. Instead, it centers on an ever­yday ques­tion: Why are public swim­ming pools among the few places where people still encounter one another as a matter of course?

The answer is surpri­sing because it’s so simple.

In the water, back­ground, occu­pa­tion, income, or social status suddenly matter very little. Swim trunks and swim­suits replace uniforms and suits. Children splash around next to reti­rees, compe­ti­tive athletes sit next to tourists in the hot tub, and neigh­bors strike up conver­sa­tions even though they’ve known each other for years only from passing by in their cars. Swim­ming pools foster encoun­ters without forcing them.

That is precisely why the Icelandic Pavi­lion views the bath­house not as a recrea­tional faci­lity, but as social infra­struc­ture.

Not every archi­tec­tural state­ment requires a spec­ta­cular buil­ding. Some­times a pool of warm water is enough.

With SOAK – Rituals of Coll­ec­tive Belon­ging, Iceland is presen­ting a contri­bu­tion to the 20th Inter­na­tional Archi­tec­ture Exhi­bi­tion of the Venice Bien­nale that focuses less on archi­tec­ture as an object and more on its social impact. The focus is on Icelandic bathing culture—and thus on an infra­struc­ture that has been brin­ging people toge­ther for gene­ra­tions.

SOAK asks: How can we create spaces where people can recon­nect with one another?

This ques­tion seems more rele­vant than ever. Digi­ta­liza­tion, remote work, and social pola­riza­tion are chan­ging the way people live toge­ther. In many places, public spaces are losing their tradi­tional role as places of encounter. The Icelandic Pavi­lion ther­e­fore conceives of the geother­mally heated indoor swim­ming pool as a counter-model—as a demo­cratic space where social diffe­rences fade into the back­ground for a moment.

Curator Marcos Zotes deve­loped the exhi­bi­tion in colla­bo­ra­tion with his part­ners at Basalt Archi­tects, the design studio Gagarin, and illus­trator and author Rán Flygen­ring. Toge­ther, they explore not the archi­tec­ture of indi­vi­dual swim­ming pools, but the rituals that take place there every day.

Anyone who has ever visited an Icelandic thermal bath knows this special atmo­sphere. Fami­lies, teen­agers, reti­rees, tourists, and working profes­sio­nals share the same pools, strike up conver­sa­tions with one another, or simply enjoy the shared tran­qui­lity. Swim­wear takes the place of status symbols. Age, occu­pa­tion, and social status lose their signi­fi­cance.

SOAK ther­e­fore describes these places as social infrastructure—just as important to the func­tio­ning of a society as roads or public trans­por­ta­tion. Water becomes a medium for inter­ac­tion, and archi­tec­ture a frame­work for commu­nity.

This shift in perspec­tive is likely to be of parti­cular inte­rest to plan­ners of sports and recrea­tional faci­li­ties.

Swim­ming pools, sports arenas, and sports parks are often described in terms of key metrics: water surface area, visitor numbers, energy consump­tion, or suita­bi­lity for compe­ti­tions. SOAK reminds us that these buil­dings are always part of the social infra­struc­ture as well. They create places where people come toge­ther regard­less of their back­ground, age, or income.

In this way, the Icelandic Pavi­lion directly ties in with the Biennale’s theme, “Do Archi­tec­ture – The Possi­bi­lity of Coexis­tence in the Face of Real Reality.” Archi­tec­ture is unders­tood here not as a spec­ta­cular object, but as a tool for better coexis­tence.