From Malls to Pixels: The Junkspace of Our Digital Age
From Commercial Centers to Infinite Feeds, Navigating Spectacle in the Modern World
Fancy a stroll in Dubai Mall? I never asked or have been asked this question, and I’m pretty sure anytime I brought it up, or heard a friend mention they were going to the mall, there was some sound effect of exhaustion or frustration involved. Usually paired with a "good luck!" or "I hope you know where you’re going." But it’s never an actually aimless stroll, is it? Or am I missing something?
Don’t get me wrong, it has everything-probably anything you can think of.- And it’s not just malls; commercial centers worldwide have become places that promise everything while leaving us feeling slightly detached. And yet, somehow, that’s part of what makes it so overwhelming, so dizzying. It’s a place designed to dazzle and consume, but not necessarily to linger in your memory.
Have you ever wandered through a space that feels too perfectly crafted yet oddly unsettling? It might have been a mall, a Vegas casino, or perhaps even a glossy, hypermodern district that seems plucked from a sci-fi movie. If it left you feeling enchanted but slightly detached, you’ve encountered what Rem Koolhaas would call junkspace.
When I first read Koolhaas’s essay Junkspace as an undergrad, it hit me like a revelation. Published in 2001, it was a lament for architecture’s descent into an incoherent sprawl of mega-projects, spaces born from the relentless churn of modernization but devoid of meaning or memory. Koolhaas described junkspace as the residue of modernization, what "coagulates while modernization is in progress." It’s flamboyant yet unmemorable, designed to seduce but never to linger in your mind.
Back then, Koolhaas was critiquing malls, highways, and commercial centers, sprawling environments of consumption that sacrificed depth and intention for efficiency and spectacle. These spaces dazzled but failed to connect to a deeper narrative, overwhelming visitors with repetition and uniformity. These were environments of overwhelming repetition, where one dazzling storefront or atrium blended indistinguishably into the next. Today, two decades later, the same phenomenon seems to unfold in the digital realm. AI-driven content and algorithmic feeds churn out endless, meticulously crafted outputs, like a digital echo of these physical spaces. Each piece is compelling in isolation but collectively overwhelming, leading us to wonder: is the internet our new junkspace, where context and meaning are lost in a flood of the repetitive and unmemorable?
data souk
digital mall
Junkspace: A Stage for Artificiality
bubble gum moments: long lasting taste
Koolhaas wrote that, “Junkspace is political: it depends on the central removal of the critical faculty in the name of comfort and pleasure.” Think about that for a moment. If junkspace pacifies us, it’s worth asking: what do these designs reflect back onto us? The spaces we build - whether physical or digital- shape not just our actions, but our perceptions, priorities, and even our identities. What we design, in turn, designs us. Junkspace doesn’t just overwhelm us; it pacifies us, numbing our ability to question or critique. The same could be said of today’s digital environments.
In cities like Dubai and Las Vegas, junkspace is everywhere. It’s the theme-park-like quality of the Vegas Strip or the endless, air-conditioned corridors of Dubai’s malls. These environments are engineered to dazzle and disorient, pulling you into a loop of consumption and spectacle. They’re meticulously designed to simulate comfort while subtly alienating you from something else?
This same sensation - of polished, manufactured perfection that feels “artificial”- has seeped into our digital spaces. The internet, with its infinite scroll and algorithmically curated feeds, has become its own kind of junkspace. It’s flamboyant yet forgettable, dazzling yet deeply disconnected. (Think the very realistically rendered cat's prepping dinner - if it hasn't blessed your scrolling screen here)
From Concrete to Code
In the physical world, junkspace is made of steel, glass, and drywall. Online, it’s made of pixels, algorithms, and AI-generated content. Yet the effect is strikingly similar.
Koolhaas observed that junkspace is “brilliant in its parts but meaningless in its sum.” This observation seems to capture the essence of our digital age. It’s like that moment in Emily in Paris, when Emily visits her boyfriend Alfie’s corporate-ready apartment in La Défense. She looks out the window and quips, “No wonder you don't like Paris. This is Pittsburgh.” That apartment, stripped of any local charm or context, could belong anywhere -a perfect example of junkspace’s interchangeable, unmemorable design. - The same applies online, where digital trends often feel like variations of the same formula, endlessly repackaged to fit different feeds. Platforms churn out endless streams of content - some clever, some stunning- but collectively, they blur into a flood of mediocrity, rarely designed to endure.
Still from Emily in Paris, Season 2, Episode 7. Netflix.
Naming the Digital Junkspace
If Koolhaas’s junkspace critiqued the physical spaces of malls and mega-projects, our digital realm deserves its own name. But let’s call it what it is: an evolution of junkspace. This is a world where platforms like Web 2.0, Web3, - and likely their infinite successors probably- function as commercialized environments. They’re designed to keep us scrolling, but rarely to connect us to anything real or lasting. That said, not everything in these spaces has to be deeply meaningful, sometimes they entertain, educate, inspire, connect us, or bring joy, and there’s value in that too.
Wiktionary defines junkspace as “a highly commercialized environment that lacks any real value or meaning.” In this context, the internet has become the ultimate junkspace: sprawling, seductive, and saturated with content that is instantly consumed and just as instantly forgotten.
The Politics of Junkspace
Koolhaas once wrote that the chosen theater of megalomania was no longer politics but entertainment. Spaces designed to entertain and overwhelm often mold us to adapt to their logic. As Koolhaas critiqued environments of consumption, these physical and digital spaces guide what we value and how we interact with the world. AI-generated environments take this a step further, not merely reflecting our preferences but amplifying and optimizing them into exaggerated versions of ourselves. This feedback loop subtly reshapes our behaviors, amplifying our preferences into predictable patterns and often sidelining depth or unpredictability. In the digital age, this rings truer than ever. Algorithms dictate our attention, prioritizing engagement over depth. The internet, much like Koolhaas’s physical junkspace, is inherently political, but its politics are subtle, woven into the fabric of our feeds and interfaces. They shape how we think, feel, and interact, often without us even realizing it.
Reclaiming Meaning in a Saturated World
So, where does that leave us? Are we destined to live and create in junkspace, whether it’s made of concrete or code? Perhaps the answer lies in intentionality. Koolhaas’s critique was a call to architects to rethink their role in shaping spaces. Similarly, we as creators, consumers, and participants in the digital world can push back against the tide of junkspace by creating work that prioritizes substance over spectacle.
Slowing down might be the only way to disrupt this cycle. Resisting the constant pressure to produce and consume allows us to question what truly matters. By approaching both creation and consumption with intention, we can design spaces and experiences that prioritize connection, substance, and lasting impact over fleeting spectacle. In a world of infinite junkspace, the truly radical act might be to craft something meaningful, something that lingers.
Last notes from me…
Next time you’re scrolling through a feed, wandering a mall, or creating with AI, pause to ask: does this add meaning, or is it just more junkspace? I don’t know the answer yet. If you follow my work, you’ll know I’m both a user and a fan of AI tools, and I’ve recently moved to Dubai. You can see where these overlaps have been circling in my mind the past few months.
That’s not to say I’m immune to the allure of spectacular spaces or entertaining digital content. In fact, some of the projects here - both physical and digital- are among the most genius I’ve ever witnessed. It’s wild to see what can be pushed and realized, almost on a weekly basis, if not daily. We’re spoiled for choice in the best way- a blessing of connection and creative potential.
And yet, I’m still working on my scrolling habits, especially with TikTok. I’m trying to be more intentional with my time in these spaces, even when they’re entertaining and inspiring. Maybe that’s part of the answer too. The answer might not be simple, but the question itself is a step toward creating something that feels lasting.
