From the ages of five to twelve, the middle years of childhood, young people explore their surroundings and find or construct private spaces. In these secret places, children develop and control environments of their own and enjoy freedom from the rules of the adult world. Children's Special Places enters these hidden worlds, reveals their importance to children's development and emotional health, and shows educators, parents, and other adults how they can foster a bond between young people and nature that is important to maturation.

Yet, once Louis, Ynys and their friend Pelumi had free rein of the living room, and were told they had to create a den so that I could record the process, they went at it with a vengeance. The sheer gusto with which they dismantled and reassembled the living room in a way that excluded adults made me feel bad that they hadn't been doing it every day.

The den in Gallavantia's bedroom was constructed so that she and her friend could, using knives, skewers and screwdrivers, dig through the wall and spy on the au pair on the toilet.

"The den is the child's sense of self being born," says David Sobel, a developmental psychologist at Antioch New England graduate school. He has researched dens extensively since the 70s, in Devon, England, and the Caribbean. "In the middle childhood, ages seven to 11, a den is the child's chance to create a home away from home that is secret, and becomes a manifestation of who they are. The den," Sobel argues, "is the chrysalis out of which the butterfly is born."

 

 

With its emphasis on sound, the Raven Row exhibition feels deeply haunted, full of disembodied voices, eerie instruments, a room of horses’ mute throats, the soft echo of steps on sand. Sound, according to Merriam-Webster, is ‘mechanical radiant energy’ – an apt description of Bacher’s work – which is ‘transmitted by longitudinal pressure waves in a material medium’. In my stupider moments, I wonder: where does sound go? If you screamed in space, would your cry end up somewhere? The soundtrack to Untitled (Diana) is all bells, ceaselessly tolling.With its emphasis on sound, the Raven Row exhibition feels deeply haunted, full of disembodied voices, eerie instruments, a room of horses’ mute throats, the soft echo of steps on sand. Sound, according to Merriam-Webster, is ‘mechanical radiant energy’ – an apt description of Bacher’s work – which is ‘transmitted by longitudinal pressure waves in a material medium’. In my stupider moments, I wonder: where does sound go? If you screamed in space, would your cry end up somewhere? The soundtrack to Untitled (Diana) is all bells, ceaselessly tolling.

https://www.frieze.com/article/lutz-bacher-one-take-239