As part of the broader philosophical movement of speculative realism, OOO (Object-Oriented Ontology) directly challenges the long-established belief that reality is always determined solely through human perception. Instead, the father of OOO, philosopher Graham Harman, argues that all objects—human and non-human, natural and artificial—exist independently of our subjective conceptualizations.

To understand the radical nature and relevance of OOO, we must first return to Immanuel Kant. In Critique of Pure Reason, Kant formulated a key thesis: humans can never directly know things-in-themselves. All our knowledge is always already mediated through the cognitive structures of the mind—through concepts of space, time, causality, and the categories of understanding.

According to Kant, objects are always filtered through our cognitive mechanisms, meaning that reality never exists independently but only in correlation with our thinking and perception. OOO rejects this correlationism. Graham Harman argues that objects have their own ontological weight and exist independently of whether they are used, perceived, or interpreted by anyone. Objects are always autonomous actors that do not require a subjective human gaze to exist.

Even Jacques Lacan problematized Descartes’ statement I think, therefore I am. He demonstrated that there is no stable and self-sufficient “I” separate from the world. The subject, therefore, is not some solid core that exists prior to all relationships but is instead shaped only through relations with the external world. Graham Harman radicalizes this idea even further. It is not just that we lack direct access to ourselves—according to Harman, we do not have direct access to the world as such either. The world is not reducible to what we can think or perceive.

Before delving into concrete examples from the fields of architecture and art, I will briefly outline the key principles of object-oriented ontology that are essential for understanding how it operates.

Autonomy

The first fundamental principle is the ontological autonomy of objects. This means that objects exist independently of human perception, interpretation, or use. Human presence or conceptualization is not a prerequisite for the existence of objects—they exist in themselves, as sovereign entities with their own ontological weight. In contrast to the Kantian subject, who always situates objects within human experience, OOO argues that objects are not reduced to how they appear to us or how we experience them. Each object retains its own being, even if it has no relation to humans whatsoever. This autonomy means that objects are not merely materials waiting for human use, nor are they just carriers of meaning inscribed into them by human culture. Objects have their own inner life, independent of the social, functional, or symbolic roles assigned to them.

Withdrawal

The second key principle is withdrawal. Withdrawal is the idea that every object—even when we interact with or use it—is always partially withdrawn from our access. No matter how much we analyze or use an object, it never fully reveals itself. There is always an internal surplus, something that remains hidden and elusive.

Here, two key examples mentioned by Harman come into play:
1. For instance, when we use a hammer to drive nails, we perceive only its immediate function—that this hammer drives nails, that it works as a tool for labor.
2. However, we do not perceive the entire layer of this hammer’s existence: its history, materiality, potential future functions, or aesthetic qualities. All these dimensions withdraw from our direct experience.

A similar case is fire consuming a piece of wood. Fire does not perceive the wood as a historical or cultural object, nor does it recognize its ecological role or past uses. For fire, wood is merely combustible material. Yet, despite this limited interaction, wood remains more than just fuel—most of its reality withdraws even from fire.

Thus, this principle of withdrawal applies to every object and every interaction—objects never fully reveal themselves, neither to humans nor to each other. Every perception or use reveals only a fragment of their total ontological depth.

Against Literalism

The third key principle is the rejection of literalism—the belief that an object can be fully defined through its visible, measurable, or functional properties. Literalism attempts to capture objects with the most precise descriptions possible, reducing them to what is directly accessible to our senses or analysis. However, according to Harman, this approach is completely misguided, as it overlooks a crucial fact: an object is always more than the sum of its visible properties or functions.

In this regard, Harman partially builds on the phenomenological concept of adumbration, introduced by Edmund Husserl. Husserl shows that we always perceive an object only partially, from a particular angle or perspective. For instance, if we look at an object from above, we see one image of it; if we look at it from the side, we see another—and none of these individual images exhausts the object as a whole.

Harman radicalizes this concept. According to him, the reason for this partial accessibility is not merely the limitation of human perception but the fact that the object itself is inexhaustible. An object has a depth that is ontologically hidden, regardless of who observes it or how.

Paraphrase and Metaphor

To indicate this surplus depth, Harman introduces an important distinction between paraphrase and metaphor:

A paraphrase is an attempt to describe and capture an object—explaining it through a set of properties or functions. However, every paraphrase is always reversible and incomplete. If we say, “A feather is like a pencil,” we can reverse the sentence without losing meaning: “A pencil is like a feather.” Thus, paraphrase does not open the surplus depth of the object—it remains on the surface of its properties.
Metaphor, on the other hand, points to what remains hidden. A metaphor is inherently irreversible—it cannot simply be reversed. Harman’s central example is the famous line from Homer’s Odyssey, where the sea is described as a “wine-dark sea”. If we were to reverse this phrase to “sea-dark wine”, it would lose all the power and depth of its original meaning.

A New Mimesis

It is precisely this asymmetry of metaphor—its ability to reveal something that transcends mere observable reality—that, according to Harman, is crucial in art and architecture. A metaphor does not define explicit meaning but can evoke it, reminding us that the ontological dimension of an object is always greater, deeper, and more mysterious than we assume. In addition to the fundamental principles of autonomy, withdrawal, and the rejection of literalism, OOO also radically reshapes the classical understanding of mimesis.

In traditional aesthetics, from antiquity to modernism, art has primarily been understood as mimesis, meaning the imitation of something external to itself. A work of art was seen as a representation conveying a particular meaning, concept, or reference to external reality. Object-oriented ontology, however, completely disrupts this conceptual framework. In the context of OOO, objects—including artworks—are not significant because of what they represent but because of what they are.

The key philosophical shift is that the new mimesis is no longer about imitating the external world but instead about an operation in which artistic objects establish themselves as autonomous actors—with their own presence and ontological autonomy. A work of art is not important because it symbolizes something but because, through its presence, materiality, texture, duration, and all its hidden layers, it creates its own reality.

When we transfer the fundamental principles of object-oriented ontology into architectural theory and practice, key questions arise that go beyond conventional discussions about function, form, and meaning in architecture. If OOO asserts that objects are autonomous and always partially withdrawn from any interpretation or use, this means that architecture is also not entirely determined by either its function or its semiotic role.

However, architecture never exists in complete isolation. It is embedded in networks of relations—with the natural, urban, and temporal context, historical layers, and countless other actors, both material and immaterial. The key task of OOO in architecture is therefore to show how an architectural object can maintain its autonomy without denying all its relational layers.

This is precisely where we can apply two of Harman’s concepts—undermining and overmining—which I consider essential in evaluating the extreme tendencies in architectural thought.

Undermining (reducing downward)

This means reducing architecture to its basic material components and technical functions, as if a building were merely the sum of concrete, steel, glass, and installations—an approach characteristic of functional modernism.

Overmining (reducing upward)

This means treating architecture purely as a carrier of symbolic meaning, a semiotic sign, or a medium for expressing ideological, political, or economic interests. In this case, architecture is no longer understood as a physical object with its own independent reality, but rather as a symbol determined by external meanings. A building becomes merely a medium that conveys a message—about power, prestige, wealth, or progress.

Architecture Through OOO

Frank Gehry’s Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao is an example where the building almost completely loses its ontological autonomy. It becomes instrumentalized as a relational entity, whose meaning is dictated by external factors—the market, media, tourism, the city’s identity, and global expectations of what the name “Guggenheim” should signify.

One of the most telling examples of how object-oriented ontology can shed new light on architecture are ruins. Ruins are objects that have lost their original function—they no longer serve the purposes for which they were built. There are no more users, no more original functions, no more systems of meaning in which they were once embedded. Yet, despite this—or perhaps precisely because of it—ruins are an extremely important case for OOO. Why? Because ruins exist as objects in themselves, independently of human interpretation or use. Their ontological presence persists, even though they no longer serve any concrete purpose. Ruins demonstrate that architecture has the right to decay and that this decay does not strip it of its ontological weight.

For OOO, it is also crucial that ruins are not merely historical artifacts. They are objects that still exist here and now. With their own material processes, gradual decay, responses to weather—all these are ontological activities that unfold independently of our interpretations. When ruins are turned into museum exhibits or tourist sites with explanatory plaques, they are often reduced to mere historical markers. Instead of being perceived as living ontological entities, they are viewed through our socio-cultural filter, serving primarily as symbolic fragments of the past.

Another project that I consider relevant in the context of object-oriented ontology in practice is Peter Zumthor’s Shelter for Roman Archaeological Remains in Switzerland. The shelter is not merely a protective structure that preserves the ruins as museum exhibits—which would be a classic example of overmining, where architecture becomes merely a frame for historical content and its symbolic role.

At the same time, Zumthor’s shelter is not merely a functionalist shell, reduced to its structural, protective, and technical function, which would be a case of undermining. Zumthor’s approach is fundamentally different. His architecture does not dominate its contents, nor does it attempt to impose meaning or interpretation on the ruins. Instead, it creates a space of coexistence, where both the Roman remains and the shelter itself retain their own ontological presence. A crucial detail in the design of the shelter ensures a conceptual distance between the building and the Roman ruins. Zumthor achieves this by not placing the shelter directly on the ground but instead creating a floating effect above the ruins.

This subtle physical separation is also an ontological gesture—the shelter does not merge with the past, nor does it continue it, but maintains its architectural autonomy while at the same time allowing the ruins to persist as an autonomous object with its own history and materiality. Zumthor also avoids imitating Roman walls and instead uses contemporary materials that do not visually represent their meaning but evoke it. The shelter does not become a paraphrase of history but a metaphorical object, emphasizing the ontological depth of both layers—the ruins and the new architecture.

The key point is that the building is not merely a technical protection for the archaeological site—it is not just its function. Even if the ruins were to disappear, the shelter would still exist as an architectural object in itself. Its identity is not dependent on the content it protects. If Zumthor’s shelter is an example of architecture that, despite being embedded in its context, maintains its ontological autonomy, then the Blur Building, designed for Swiss Expo 2002, represents an architectural case that almost completely renounces this autonomy.

The Blur Building has no stable form, no solid materiality, and no fixed identity. The entire structure is composed of mist, generated by a mechanical system that sprays water into the air. Architecture is not defined by a clear boundary but exists as a relational phenomenon, constantly changing according to weather conditions, humidity, wind, and visitor movement.

When conditions are right, the mist is dense, and the building gains a perceivable presence. But when the weather changes or the system producing the mist stops working, the object disappears—the architecture ceases to exist as an autonomous entity and dissolves into its environment. In this sense, the Blur Building is entirely dependent on external factors—it lacks an inner surplus depth that would exist independently of these relationships.

Within the framework of OOO, the Blur Building can be interpreted as architecture that promotes overmining, as it is based entirely on a relational concept—the building does not exist as a sovereign object but only as a result of a network of interactions between technology, climate, visitors, and natural conditions. Its identity is always conditional and never ontologically autonomous.

Contemporary Art Through OOO

In previous sections, I have shown how OOO expands architecture as a field where objects are not merely functional carriers of meaning but autonomous entities with their own withdrawal and surplus.
A similar logic is emerging in contemporary art, where an increasing number of projects reject classical representation and instead emphasize the ontological presence of artistic objects.

A strong example of this is the site-specific exhibition Adaptation, which took place in 2023 in an abandoned building on Povšetova Street in Ljubljana. The exhibition consciously abandoned traditional curatorial structures, clear narratives, and didactic explanations. Instead, it was conceived as an open process in which art objects, materials, space, and time coexisted without a unified framework, without a single story, without authoritative interpretation.

The first work from the Adaptation exhibition I want to highlight is Hygroamass, a sculpture by Neja Zorzut. It is a highly specific form composed of concrete, fibers, and plexiglass. Its textures and shapes evoke something, but they do not offer a clear explanation. This formal expression might remind us of a futuristic infrastructure or perhaps an unknown organism, but the work never presents a definitive meaning. At first glance, it is clear that the work is not self-contained but actively interacts with the environment in which it is situated. The wet surface, humidity in the air, and condensation accumulating beneath and around the object all participate in its existence.

However, Hygroamass is not reducible to these conditions. It does not blend into the space or serve it, but rather maintains its ontological autonomy. It exists as an independent object, not defined solely by its function or its role in the surrounding space.

The installation SUR140, by Andrej Škufca, consists of thin metal structures resembling signal antennas, arranged in a dispersed network that occupies the exterior surfaces of the abandoned building. Each element is simple, almost generic, yet together they form a constellation that both maps and fictionalizes the space.

The work is site-specific, as its placement depends on the particular topography of the location. However, the installation is not merely a reaction to the space. The metal structures do not attempt to imitate existing architectural elements or blend into nature—they remain a foreign presence, registering changes in the environment: weather, humidity, visitor movement.

SUR140 functions as a speculative infrastructure, suggesting the existence of a hidden system but never explaining its function. This is not a didactic or narrative work—the installation is open-ended, intentionally ambivalent, like a network of signals that we cannot fully decipher.

In this sense, the installation withdraws from representational logic—its ontological presence is not tied to a specific meaning or function but rather to the sheer existence of objects that maintain their own internal autonomy, regardless of external interpretation.

Thus, the installation is not merely part of the space but also an attempt to occupy space, transforming it into a fictional field—a space where material objects are not merely in service of external implications but are active agents that, through their placement, materiality, and openness, co-create a situation that is always more than what is immediately visible.

Gaia Radić

Editor’s note: This essay was written as part of the seminar Theoretical Practices of Architecture at the Faculty of Architecture, University of Ljubljana, and was first presented at the event series Theoretical Practice of Architecture at Work at the Dessa Gallery in Ljubljana, Slovenia, in March 2025.