Lingis seems to be in dialogue with some of Grozs’s ideas associatingartistic production with the “passion” and “emotions” created as aresult of “excess energies” encountered in our environment. He alsotouches on Grosz’s explorations of architecture being the “mostelementary containment of forces” (Grosz, 16), although Lingis seemsto be much more direct and unsupportive of his statements when he saysthings like “We do feel that … people who live in cubicles in publichousing developments tend to have narrow, constricted feelings” (Lingis, 18) without developing the thought further or supporting itin any manner.
In doing this, Lingis is attempting to take on the role which he hadpreviously set up for us in this chapter: that of the passionate,modern historian – one who can “make his reader feel again thetorrential emotions of men and women” (Lingis, 14). However, byattempting to elicit an emotional response, Lingis’ discussion quicklydissolves into a thinly veiled attack of corporate influence andWestern cultures in general. He assumes the role of the corporateslave, the adventurous explorer, the victimized native, and even us,the reader, projecting his own beliefs and value systems onto each. The well-to-do scientist is vilified by the influence of the urbanarchitecture has upon him, while the adventurous sailor, freed fromthe confining walls of urban architecture allows the forces of natureto fuel his passions. Lingis expects us to come to the reading withshared ideals, and when that expectation is unfulfilled, thefoundation of his argument reveals itself as nonexistent. While I don’t necessarily disagree with everything he’s saying, the amount of energy Lingis spends setting us up for this attempted emotional exploitation only undermines his argument.