Phase 2 | (Week 5 to 8)
- Gosia Siwiec
- Feb 17
- 45 min read
Updated: Apr 1
Define, Test and Prepare
This phase is all about testing and refining my ideas, which feels like a big step forward. I know I need to push myself to experiment more and put my work out there for feedback, even if it’s a bit intimidating. I’m especially looking forward to connecting with people who can offer insights and help shape my project. At the same time, balancing everything—research, making, and preparing for my case study presentation—feels like a challenge. I expect there will be moments where things don’t go as planned, but I see that as part of the learning process.
By the end of these four weeks, I hope to feel more confident in my direction and have a stronger foundation for the next phase.
Tutorial with Ben
Strengths
Clear area of interest (transit spaces).
Personal connection to the topic.
Exploring valuable themes that could lead to an impactful design outcome.
Major Feedback
The project is too broad – too many things I want to explore.
Need to pick one specific, measurable focus.
Example approach: Identify a problem → Use design to solve it.
Too ambitious – "Fostering connection" and "building empathy" are hard to measure.
To Be Defined
Find a Tension Point:
Such as transit places are places where identity is dissolved. I could argue that transit hubs are the place are the most in focus. It’s most in focus because you dealing with a passport which boils your identity down in to a particular framework.
Research Question Needs Refining:
Current: "How can graphic design be used to highlight the overlooked aspects of transit spaces, to foster awareness, inclusivity, and human connection?"
Issues:
"Overlooked aspects" – Too vague. Which aspect?
"Foster awareness, inclusivity, and human connection" – Hard to measure.
What is the problem I’m trying to solve?
Where do I want this project to land?
Next Steps
Pick one clear issue.
Define a measurable goal.
Refine the research question based on this focus.
Case Studies
The Homeless Project" by Kat Kopecka
When I first saw this project, I was struck by how a simple rebranding effort could completely transform a charity’s ability to connect with the public. The clean, modern design gave the cause a fresh identity, making it more approachable while still carrying the emotional weight of the issue. Winning a Gold award at the International Design Awards felt well deserved because it proved that design isn’t just about aesthetics—it’s about making real change happen.
https://kopecka.com.au/thehomelessproject/
"Off The Streets" by Megan Chandler
This project resonated with me on a deeper level because it tackled one of the most common struggles when it comes to helping the homeless: knowing how to help. The idea of a token system that allows people to directly support homeless individuals in a dignified way was brilliant. Seeing it win at the Creative Conscience Awards reassured me that good design isn’t just about looking good—it’s about designing solutions that have real-world impact.
"Flowering Street" by Mingjun Jiang
This project was a beautiful example of how branding can empower marginalised communities. The idea of linking homeless individuals to a sustainable source of income, while giving them a sense of identity through thoughtful design, was deeply moving. What stood out to me was the use of familiar London street sign aesthetics, symbolising a sense of belonging. It made me realise how even the smallest design details can change perceptions and create connections.
https://competition.adesignaward.com/design.php?ID=121372
https://competition.adesignaward.com/design-image.php?y=2020&design=121372
"There's Another Side to the Story" by Publicis London for Depaul UK
This campaign stayed with me long after I first saw it. By using outdoor posters to encourage people to shift their perspectives, it effectively turned everyday city spaces into thought-provoking moments. What I appreciated most was its ability to engage people without being preachy—just a clever, well-executed reminder that there’s always more to someone’s story than what we initially see.
"Homelessness Awareness Campaign" by Lydia VanDriel
Lydia VanDriel’s campaign immediately made me reflect on the power of visual storytelling. Her use of creative imagery and strong design elements forces viewers to confront the issue in an unexpected way. What I appreciated most was the emotional weight behind the work—it wasn’t just about raising awareness but also shifting perspectives. It’s the kind of campaign that stays with you long after you’ve seen it, which is exactly what an awareness project should achieve.
https://www.behance.net/gallery/51781313/Homelessness-Awareness-Campaign
"We Are All Homeless" by Willie Baronet
This project really spoke to me on a personal level. Willie Baronet has spent decades collecting signs from homeless individuals, which in itself is a profound act of documentation and acknowledgment. What struck me most was how these signs tell stories—fragments of lives condensed into cardboard. Seeing them displayed together amplifies their voices in a way that feels deeply humanizing. It made me think about how often we walk past these signs without truly reading them, and how design can shift that interaction.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/We_Are_All_Homeless
https://dallasdoinggood.com/willie-baronet-we-are-all-homeless/
Documentary: Signs of Humanity (2016)
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt5609524/plotsummary/?ref_=tt_ov_pl
Defined Project Proposal
Problem
Transit spaces—train stations, airports, and bus terminals—are designed for efficiency and movement. As a result, certain people, objects, and everyday moments become invisible. Commuters move through these environments on autopilot, rarely noticing what exists beyond their immediate purpose. This lack of awareness reinforces social and spatial invisibility, particularly for marginalised individuals and forgotten elements within these spaces.
Tension Point
Transit spaces symbolise motion and progress, yet for some, they represent stagnation and exclusion. While commuters pass through with purpose, others remain unseen—blending into the background, ignored in the flow of movement. The challenge is to shift these spaces from passive, impersonal zones into places where overlooked aspects are noticed and acknowledged.
Solution
This project explores how small, strategic design interventions—such as printed materials, reworded signage, interactive elements, and visual distortions—can break commuter autopilot and prompt moments of awareness. By placing subtle disruptions in transit spaces, the aim is to make people pause, notice, and reconsider their surroundings.
Research Question 2
How can design disrupt commuter routines to reveal what is usually overlooked in transit spaces?
Initially, my research question aimed to create structured interactions between commuters and homeless individuals. However, through further research and feedback, I recognised the ethical and practical challenges of direct involvement, including concerns around agency, consent, and the risk of reinforcing stereotypes or oversimplifying the complexities of homelessness.
As a result, I have shifted my focus to addressing commuter indifference and reshaping perceptions of social invisibility in transit spaces. This broader approach explores exclusion, anonymity, and the way transit environments dictate who is seen and who is ignored. By removing direct engagement with homeless individuals, the project remains ethically responsible while still fostering awareness, empathy, and engagement through design interventions.
Why is this a problem?
Transit spaces condition people to focus solely on movement, reinforcing detachment from their surroundings.
Those who don’t fit within the expected flow—such as the homeless or other overlooked individuals—become invisible.
Everyday details, like discarded objects, traces of presence, or the architectural elements shaping these spaces, go unnoticed.
Without intervention, these spaces will continue to prioritise efficiency over awareness, deepening social and spatial exclusion.
Why is this happening?
Design of Transit Spaces – Built for speed, order, and function, leaving little room for reflection or engagement.
Commuter Psychology – People develop habitual movement patterns, tuning out anything not directly related to their journey.
Technological Disconnection – Phones, screens, and headphones create further disengagement from the physical environment.
Social Avoidance – Many unconsciously ignore the presence of marginalized individuals due to discomfort or conditioned detachment.
How my idea may help solve it?
Breaking Routine – Small design interventions will disrupt habitual commuter behaviour, prompting brief moments of engagement.
Reframing Visibility – Experimental print work, signage, and found-object transformations will highlight overlooked elements.
Encouraging Reflection – Thought-provoking messages or altered visual cues will invite commuters to reconsider their role in transit spaces.
Creating Ethical Engagement – Encouraging a shift from passive ignorance to active awareness without forcing interaction.
How it will be measured
Breaking Routine – Small design interventions will disrupt habitual commuter behavior, prompting brief moments of engagement.
Reframing Visibility – Experimental print work, signage, and found-object transformations will highlight overlooked elements.
Encouraging Reflection – Thought-provoking messages or altered visual cues will invite commuters to reconsider their role in transit spaces.
Creating Ethical Engagement – Encouraging a shift from passive ignorance to active awareness without forcing interaction.
Aims and objectives
To explore how design can disrupt passive commuter behavior and encourage awareness in transit spaces.
To test different visual interventions and analyze their effectiveness in shifting perception.
To create a body of work that challenges the invisibility of overlooked people, objects, and experiences.
To contribute to discussions around urban design, social space, and ethical engagement in public environments.
Research Methods
1. Expert Interviews
To gain insights from different professional perspectives, interviews will be conducted with:
Psychologists – Understanding the mental health impact of homelessness and social exclusion in transit spaces.
Nutritionists – Examining how lack of access to food impacts homeless individuals in transit spaces.
Ex-UK Police Inspector – Investigating law enforcement policies regarding homelessness and their effects on individuals in transit areas.
Charities (e.g., Shelter, Crisis) – Exploring best practices in structured support and ethical donation models.
Methodology:
Email interviews (30-60 mins).
Thematic analysis to identify key patterns and insights.
Ensuring ethical considerations (informed consent, anonymity where needed).
Objective: To understand the psychological, legal, and social barriers preventing homeless individuals from achieving financial stability and mobility.
2. Observational Research (Ethnographic Approach)
A first-hand observation study will be conducted in key UK transit spaces (train stations, bus terminals, subways) to document:
The presence and behaviour of homeless individuals in transit spaces.
The design features that either help or hinder their presence (e.g., hostile architecture).
Commuter interactions with homeless individuals.
Methodology:
Field notes and journaling during multiple visits to transit spaces.
Discreet observation (no direct engagement with individuals to maintain ethical integrity).
Capturing photographic evidence of design elements affecting homelessness (e.g., anti-homeless benches).
Objective: To develop a visual and written record of how homeless individuals navigate transit spaces and how design influences their visibility and treatment.
3. Collecting & Repurposing Abandoned Items (Practice-Based Research)
Transit spaces are full of discarded materials that tell hidden stories about the people who pass through them. This research will involve:
Collecting abandoned items (e.g., old tickets, receipts, newspaper clippings, personal notes).
Documenting these items through scanning, photography, and annotation.
Repurposing them into design materials (zines, posters, interactive installations).
Objective:To highlight the hidden narratives of transit spaces and use these materials as a medium for storytelling and awareness.
4. Workshop with Polish School Children in Jersey
A participatory workshop will be conducted with children from a Polish school in Jersey to explore their perspectives on homelessness and transit spaces.
Methodology:
Creative storytelling and drawing exercises.
Discussions about who is seen and unseen in transit spaces.
Encouraging children to imagine and design alternative transit spaces that are more inclusive.
Objective: To gain fresh, unfiltered insights into how a younger generation perceives homelessness and movement in transit spaces. Their perspectives may shape the visual language and messaging of the campaign.
5. Video Analysis & Case Studies
Watching recent videos of how people interact with the homeless in the UK (social experiments, news reports, surveillance footage).
Analysing case studies of successful structured exchange models (e.g., The Big Issue in the UK, Street Papers initiatives globally).
Studying policy documents on homelessness, transit accessibility, and ethical fundraising.
Objective: To identify trends, biases, and gaps in how homelessness is currently addressed in public and transit spaces.
Target Audience
Commuters – The primary focus, as they engage with transit spaces daily.
Designers & Urban Planners – Those who influence the shaping of public spaces.
Social Organisations & Charities – Groups addressing homelessness, social invisibility, and urban exclusion.
General Public – Encouraging wider reflection on how people interact with shared environments.
Reading
The Art of Noticing- Robert Walker
There’s something about long-haul flights that forces you to slow down. You’re trapped in a suspended in-between space, with nowhere to go and nothing to do except observe. So, on my 10-hour flight, I decided to immerse myself in Rob Walker’s "The Art of Noticing"—an audiobook I had been meaning to get to for a while.
Armed with my notebook and pen, I let Walker’s ideas guide my thoughts, and what started as passive listening quickly turned into one of the most insightful exercises in observation I’ve ever done.
Transit Spaces: Designed for Movement, Built for Invisibility
Robert argues that attention is a skill—something we can train ourselves to improve. This idea resonated immediately with my study of transit spaces and the people who are unseen within them.
Transit hubs are not neutral spaces. They are carefully designed to prioritise efficiency, order, and flow, which means that anything (or anyone) that does not serve those functions becomes invisible—whether that’s an old flight information board in an airport terminal or a person who has no destination, simply existing in a place designed for movement.
I started reflecting on what I tend to overlook in transit spaces. I wrote down:
The design itself—how architecture, lighting, and signage subtly dictate movement.
Objects left behind—forgotten luggage, crumpled tickets, unfinished meals.
The people we don’t notice—cleaning staff, security guards, individuals resting in waiting areas, and those with nowhere else to go.
Walker’s "noticing exercises" felt incredibly relevant to my project because noticing is the first step toward changing perception. If my project aims to challenge how transit spaces erase certain people, then I first need to understand how that erasure happens.
What’s Missing? The Power of Absence in Transit Spaces
One of the exercises that stood out to me was: "What’s missing here?" Instead of looking at what’s present, focus on what’s been removed, hidden, or overlooked.
In transit hubs, the absences are deliberate:
Benches with armrests every few feet → Designed to prevent lying down.
No public clocks in airports → Forces reliance on screens and digital engagement.
Lack of comfortable waiting areas → Encourages spending in retail spaces.
But beyond the physical, there are also social absences:
Who is seen moving freely, and who is watched closely?
Who blends into the environment, and who feels out of place?
Who has the ability to leave, and who is stuck in transit with nowhere else to go?
Framing the Familiar: Rethinking Transit Spaces
Robert suggests reframing familiar spaces using new words—a simple but powerful way to shift perspective. I tried this with transit spaces:
Airports = "Curated Distraction" – Retail, entertainment, and digital engagement keep us occupied, so we don’t question the space itself.
Train Stations = "Paused Urgency" – Everyone is waiting, but always with an expectation of movement.
Bus Terminals = "Temporary Shelters" – For some, a way home; for others, the closest thing to home.
This reframing exercise made me rethink how language can be a tool in my project. If transit spaces are designed for people to pass through without noticing, what if I used design interventions to disrupt that habit?
For example:
Signage that points out the unseen: Instead of "Way Out," what if a sign read "Who gets to leave?"
Printed materials that reframe presence: A sticker on a bench that reads "This seat is meant for waiting. Some waits last longer than others."
Designing for recognition: What if structured engagement (stickers, zines, postcards) was framed not as a donation request, but as a moment of connection?
Applying This to My Project: Noticing as a Design Tool
Walker’s book reinforced something crucial: You can’t fight things that you don’t see. My project isn’t just about designing objects or interventions—it’s about shifting perception, making people stop and notice what transit spaces are designed to make them overlook.
Next Steps for My Research:
Conduct an observational study in a transit hub—focusing on what’s missing as much as what’s present.
Document unexpected behaviors—moments when people use the space in ways it wasn’t designed for.
Test reframing techniques in design—how can language shift public perception of transit environments?
Photograph forgotten or overlooked objects—what do they reveal about how people engage with transit spaces?
Final Thought: Can We Truly “See” Transit Spaces?
This book made me realise that transit spaces are designed to be noticed just enough to function, but not enough to question. We interact with them without really seeing them.
If we stopped to notice, what would change? Would we rethink how these spaces could be designed? Could we create more engaging, flexible, and human-centered transit environments?
These are the questions I want to explore further. Not just how transit spaces work—but how they shape perception, behaviour, and experience in ways we rarely stop to notice.
Non- Places- Marc Auge
While reading Marc Augé’s Non-Places: Introduction to an Anthropology of Supermodernity, I found myself constantly drawing connections to my own research on transit spaces and their ability to erase presence. Book concept of non-places—spaces designed purely for passage rather than connection—provides a compelling framework for understanding why transit environments feel impersonal, controlled, and often blind to those who exist outside their intended function.
Sitting in an airport or a train station, it’s easy to see how these spaces function in ways described in book. They are hyper-organised yet detached from history, community, and personal identity. Everything is designed for efficiency—wayfinding signs, ticket barriers, standardised waiting areas—but not for meaningful engagement. And yet, not everyone experiences transit spaces as temporary. Some people linger, remain unseen, or even exist within them as a necessity rather than a choice. This paradox is central to my study.
The Logic of Non-Places in Transit Spaces
Marc argues that non-places exist to serve a function, not to foster belonging. Unlike historical or community-driven spaces that are shaped by memory, relationships, and personal identity, non-places are interchangeable and anonymous.
Key features of non-places in transit spaces:
✔ Standardisation: Train stations, airports, and subways follow universal design principles—you could be in London, Paris, or Tokyo, and the transit experience would feel strikingly similar.
✔ Minimal social interaction: People move through non-places without forming relationships or attachments to them.
✔ Instructional design: Signs, barriers, and automated ticketing replace the need for human guidance or personal engagement.
✔ Surveillance and control: Movement is regulated through barriers, security cameras, and systems designed to ensure people behave predictably.
From a design perspective, non-places prioritise flow over presence. They aren’t meant to be experienced or explored—only used.
What Happens When People Do Not Leave?
Book's theory assumes that non-places are temporary environments, but my research challenges that assumption. Transit spaces are built for passage, yet for some, they become semi-permanent spaces of existence—particularly for people in need, stranded travellers, or those excluded from traditional urban spaces.
If a transit space is designed for movement, what happens when someone has nowhere to move to?
Airports: There are cases of people living in airports for months or even years—stranded due to bureaucracy, lost passports, or personal crises.
Train stations: Many rough sleepers seek refuge in transit hubs, not by choice, but because these are some of the few public spaces where presence is tolerated, even if only temporarily.
Bus stations: Unlike cafes or shopping centers, transit hubs provide warmth, seating, and restrooms, making them one of the few options for those without shelter.
This leads to an important question for my project: How do non-places respond to those who do not leave?
The answer, so far, seems to be removal rather than adaptation.
Hostile architecture prevents people from lingering too long.
Security patrols routinely eject individuals who appear “out of place.”
Surveillance is used not just for safety, but for maintaining the illusion of temporary presence.
Non-Places & the Psychology of Invisibility
Marc suggests that non-places create a peculiar type of isolation. Even when full of people, these spaces do not foster connection. Everyone is there, yet no one truly acknowledges one another.
Examples of social detachment in transit spaces:
People avoiding eye contact while waiting in queues.
Travellers glued to their phones, tuning out their surroundings.
Automated voices replacing human interactions at ticket booths.
This detachment affects not only how transit users interact with each other but also how they perceive those who exist in transit spaces differently. People who remain in these environments—those sleeping in train stations, waiting indefinitely, or visibly outside the commuter norm—are noticed, yet ignored at the same time.
This raises critical design questions:
How does the architecture of non-places encourage social detachment?
Can design be used to reintroduce presence, recognition, and human interaction in spaces built for efficiency?
What happens when graphic design disrupts the "invisibility effect" of transit hubs?
Applying Non-Place Theory to My Project
Walker’s The Art of Noticing and Augé’s Non-Places complement each other in a fascinating way. Walker pushes for active observation, while Augé explains why we often fail to notice our surroundings in the first place.
Key Takeaways for My Research:
✔ Challenge passive engagement in transit spaces. Non-places function because people move through them without paying attention. My project must create interventions that disrupt that pattern.
✔ Reframe how commuters see "unseen" elements in transit spaces. Can signage, interactive materials, or structured exchange models introduce human presence into environments designed to be impersonal?
✔ Design interventions that shift perception. If transit hubs are built to be generic, what happens when unexpected design elements appear? Can print, language, or interactive features make people stop and engage?
One idea emerging from this research is to introduce subtle disruptions into transit spaces—design elements that challenge the "pass-through" mentality. These could be:
Posters that reframe movement vs. stillness, asking commuters to reconsider who is seen in a space.
Printed materials that encourage structured engagement, offering commuters a way to interact meaningfully without disrupting flow.
QR-coded interventions that lead to stories of overlooked elements in the transit environment—whether objects left behind, people unseen, or histories erased.
Space and Place- Yi-Fu Tuan
While reading Yi-Fu Tuan’s Space and Place: The Perspective of Experience, I found myself constantly questioning how transit spaces function beyond their intended design. Tuan’s distinction between space (abstract, impersonal, open-ended) and place (a space that has been given meaning through human experience) provided a new framework for thinking about how people interact with and exist within transit environments.
Book argues that space is transformed into place when it becomes familiar, personal, or emotionally significant. But what happens when a space is designed to be anonymous? What happens when it is meant to be passed through, not occupied? Transit spaces are built for efficiency, for movement—but not for belonging. And yet, for many, they become places—not by choice, but by necessity.
Transit Hubs as Spaces, Not Places
According to Yi-Fu, places feel meaningful because they are connected to memory, identity, and experience. This is why homes, neighbourhoods, and landmarks have an emotional weight that transit spaces do not.
Key characteristics of transit hubs as "spaces" rather than "places":
They prioritise function over familiarity—Everything is designed for navigation, not attachment.
They are standardised and impersonal—A train station in London feels remarkably similar to one in Berlin or New York.
They are designed for temporary occupation—Benches discourage lingering, signage directs flow, and automated ticketing replaces human interaction.
This findings made me reflect on why transit hubs often feel cold, disconnected, and detached from human experience. They are spaces designed to minimise personal connection, encouraging people to move in predictable patterns rather than engage with their surroundings.
But what happens when someone is forced to stay?
When Space Becomes Place: Who Stays in Transit Environments?
Book argues that a space becomes a place when people develop a personal relationship with it. This can happen intentionally—through routine, memory, or experience—but also unintentionally, when someone has no choice but to remain in a space built for movement.
Transit hubs become places of waiting, survival, and adaptation for those who cannot simply pass through.
Stranded travellers experience transit spaces differently—A delayed flight turns an airport from a transition zone into a place of temporary residence.
Commuters create familiar routes and routines—A specific bench, a favorite coffee kiosk, a daily waiting spot transforms a station into something personal.
For people in need, transit hubs function as last-resort spaces of shelter—not because they were designed for it, but because no other place allows them to exist.
How Transit Design Enforces Anonymity
One of the most powerful takeaways from Space and Place is that place is created through emotional attachment, but design can dictate whether or not attachment is possible.
Transit spaces use design to enforce detachment and anonymity:
Benches with armrests → Prevent people from reclining or resting too long.
Glass, steel, and minimalist materials → Create environments that feel sleek but impersonal.
Over-reliance on digital signage and automation → Reduces human interaction, making spaces feel transactional rather than communal.
Applying This to My Project: Can Transit Spaces Become Places?
Reading Tuan’s work alongside Augé (Non-Places), Mitchell (The Right to the City), and Papanek (Design for the Real World), I started asking:
Can transit spaces be designed to feel less like impersonal spaces and more like meaningful places?
How does structured engagement—through design interventions—challenge the anonymity of transit hubs?
Can something as small as a sticker, a zine, or a reworded sign disrupt the passive way people move through these environments?
Tuan’s book convinced me that if transit hubs are designed to discourage personal connection, then design itself can be used to reclaim a sense of place within them. If space becomes place through meaning, then my project is about inserting meaning into environments that are built to be neutral.
Mobilities- John Urry
While reading John Urry’s Mobilities, I found myself rethinking the way transit spaces function—not just as places of movement, but as places of restriction. Book explores how modern society is structured around who moves, how they move, and who is prevented from moving. Nowhere is this contrast more visible than in train stations, airports, and bus terminals, where the entire system is designed to facilitate flow—except for those who, for one reason or another, remain stuck.
Transit hubs are built on the promise of movement. People pass through them with purpose—some rushing, others waiting, but always with a destination in mind. But what happens when someone’s journey is interrupted, suspended, or indefinitely stalled? This paradox—mobility for some, immobility for others—is at the core of my research.
The Power of Mobility: Who Gets to Move?
John describes mobility as a form of power. To move freely—across borders, through cities, within systems—is a privilege often taken for granted. In transit hubs, this privilege is designed into the space itself.
How transit hubs reinforce mobility for some:
✔ Clear, efficient pathways—directional signage, escalators, and automated ticket gates keep people moving.
✔ Technology-enabled passage—contactless payment, fast-tracked security, and digital boarding passes remove barriers.
✔ Predictability and control—delays are inconvenient but temporary; movement is an expectation, not a question.
Transit hubs are not designed for people to stay. Their entire function is to facilitate passage, to keep bodies in motion. And yet, not everyone is allowed to move at the same speed—or at all.
Stagnation in a Space Meant for Movement
If transit spaces exist to keep people moving, what happens to those who cannot? Not everyone who enters a train station or airport has a clear destination. Some people remain—not because they want to, but because they have no choice.
John's work helped me frame transit spaces not just as hubs of mobility, but as places where immobility is highly visible and yet structurally ignored.
Examples of stagnation in transit spaces:
Stranded travellers—Flight cancellations, visa issues, or lost tickets can turn a temporary stay into a forced delay.
Displaced individuals—For some, transit hubs become default shelters, spaces of temporary refuge but not belonging.
Those priced out of movement—Without the financial means for travel, the mobility that transit hubs promise remains inaccessible.
Designing for Flow, Ignoring Stillness
One of Urry’s arguments is that mobility is intentionally structured—cities, transport networks, and public infrastructure are built around those who can move. This made me question: how does transit design accommodate those who do not move?
Design choices that enforce mobility and discourage stagnation:
Seating with dividers → Prevents lying down or long-term occupation.
Constant surveillance → Ensures that people don’t linger too long in one place.
Lack of amenities → Few public rest areas, no designated waiting zones beyond ticketed passengers.
This aligns with Karl De Fine Licht’s work on hostile architecture, where public spaces are subtly designed to exclude certain behaviours, making stagnation uncomfortable or unsustainable.
In other words: transit hubs are designed for moving bodies, not for those who remain.
The Role of Design: Challenging Passive Exclusion
Reading the book alongside my other research made me wonder: what if design could challenge the assumption that transit spaces must only serve those in motion?
If design regulates movement, can it also create space for recognition, structured
engagement, or visibility for those who are stuck?
Some ideas emerging from this:
Interactive signage that acknowledges different forms of movement and waiting—designing for those in transit and those who are in limbo.
Printed interventions (stickers, zines, postcards) that disrupt the pass-through mindset—encouraging people to notice the space itself and those within it.
Reframing waiting as an experience, not an absence of movement—designing transit spaces to recognise the different rhythms of travel.
Rather than reinforcing who gets to move and who does not, design has the potential to bridge the gap between flow and stagnation, making the unseen visible.
Watching
Watching has been a critical part of my research, not only in terms of films, documentaries, and case studies but also in real-life observational research. By observing transit spaces firsthand, I analysed behavioural trends, overlooked details, and how people interact with urban infrastructure.
Observational Research in Transit Spaces
My firsthand analysis of behaviour, design elements, and social interactions in transit environments.
Methodology
Over several weeks, I spent time in train stations, airports, bus terminals, and underground stations, closely watching how people move, interact, and respond to their surroundings. My approach included:
Passive Observation: Watching without interaction to see natural behaviours.
Note-Taking & Sketching: Capturing trends, objects, and movement patterns.
Photography & Video Recording: Documenting transit spaces and design elements.
Key Findings from Observational Research
A. Commuter Psychology: The Habit of Not Noticing
People move through transit spaces on autopilot, focusing on their phones, schedules, or destinations.
Eye contact is rare—commuters avoid direct engagement with others, especially with homeless individuals.
When people do interact, it's mostly with technology (ticket machines, announcements, signage).
This confirms that transit spaces condition people to overlook anything not related to their movement. This insight will shape my design interventions to disrupt autopilot behaviour.
B. Design & Visibility: Who is Seen, Who is Ignored?
Transit workers (cleaners, security guards, maintenance staff) blend into the background—they are present but rarely acknowledged.
Homeless individuals occupy hidden or transitional spaces—corners, benches, near vending machines.
Architectural design enforces detachment—benches with armrests, cold lighting, minimal seating areas.
This reinforces the idea of "designed invisibility"—transit hubs are not neutral but are structured to keep people moving while discouraging presence. My project needs to create interruptions in these spaces.
C. Objects Left Behind: Traces of Unnoticed Narratives
I documented a variety of discarded objects that tell silent stories about movement:
Lost tickets – Proof of journeys taken, yet immediately disposable.
Crumpled business cards – Representing interactions that may have been forgotten.
Abandoned food wrappers – Signs of rushed consumption in non-resting spaces.
Torn newspaper clippings – Pieces of news that commuters chose to leave behind.
These discarded objects could be repurposed into design artifacts—zines, posters, or installations that remind people of the unnoticed details in transit spaces.
D. Waiting vs. Moving: The Paradox of Transit Spaces
Transit hubs are designed for constant movement, yet waiting is unavoidable.
Some commuters engage in passive waiting (scrolling on phones, listening to music) while others become restless.
People who do not "fit" the movement cycle (e.g., homeless individuals) stand out as disruptions, even when they are simply waiting like everyone else.
This supports my concept of "structuring engagement"—designing subtle interventions that give commuters a moment to stop, notice, and engage with their surroundings in a new way.
Implications for My Project
✔ Breaking Routine: Design interventions must subtly interrupt commuter autopilot behaviour without feeling forced.
✔ Reframing Visibility: Printed materials and signage should highlight the hidden elements of transit spaces.
✔ Encouraging Reflection: Transit hubs should be seen not just as points of passage but as environments where social realities coexist.
Visual Media Analysis & Case Studies
Documentaries & Films
1. Signs of Humanity (2016) – Willie Baronet
📽️ Link: IMDb: Signs of Humanity
Themes: Social invisibility, signage, human storytelling
This project of collecting handwritten signs from homeless individuals inspired me to explore how text-based design interventions could shift public perception of homelessness in transit spaces.
2. There’s Another Side to the Story – Depaul UK (2016)
📽️ Link: D&AD Awards Campaign
Themes: Perspective-shifting, public engagement, empathy-building
This campaign used interactive posters in public spaces to change the narrative around homelessness. My design work will integrate a similar dual-layer messaging strategy to challenge commuter perceptions.
3. The Hidden Ways Cities Keep Homeless People Away – Hostile Architecture
📽️ Link: YouTube: Hostile Design
Themes: Urban exclusion, transit design, invisibility
This documentary highlights how cities use anti-homeless spikes, divided benches, and constant surveillance to push marginalised individuals out of public spaces. This reinforced my idea that transit spaces are actively designed to prioritise movement over present.
Social Experiments & Online Case Studies
4. Homeless vs. Well-Dressed Man Social Experiment
📽️ Link: YouTube: Who Gets Help?
Themes: Social bias, visibility, public behaviour
This experiment showed that commuters are more likely to help a well-dressed man in distress than a homeless individual. This reinforced my research on public detachment in transit spaces.
Lectures
The lectures I watched provided crucial insights into design methodologies, human behavior in transit spaces, and the role of graphic design in social engagement. Each lecture contributed to refining my approach, helping me better understand how to use design as a tool for visibility and structured engagement within transit environments.
1. Lecture: Academic Creative Practice by Ben Evans James
This lecture reinforced the importance of iterative creative practice—the cycle of making, analysing, and refining—which has been central to my research process. One of the key takeaways was that research does not need to be fully defined at the start; instead, it evolves through exploration and reflection. This directly influenced my approach to developing interventions in transit spaces.
How This Informed My Project
I adopted a more flexible research approach, allowing observational insights to shape my design interventions rather than starting with a rigid hypothesis.
This encouraged me to test different visual interventions (e.g., signage, print materials, spatial disruptions) and analyse their effectiveness before committing to a final outcome.
It validated my use of ethnographic observation and participatory design, ensuring that my work is informed by real-world behaviours rather than assumptions.
2. Lecture: Social Change UX by Joe Pochodzaj
This session emphasised the power of design as a catalyst for social change and how graphic communication can shape public perception. A significant takeaway was the idea that design interventions must be structured and intentional—disrupting passive behaviours while remaining accessible and engaging.
How This Informed My Project
I refined my research question to focus on commuter perception and routine disruption, ensuring that my interventions are measurable and tangible.
I recognised the importance of subtle yet strategic interventions—rather than large-scale campaigns, small design elements (stickers, reworded signs, printed materials) could gently nudge public awareness.
The lecture encouraged me to consider ethical engagement—how can I create awareness without exploiting or misrepresenting the people I aim to support? This led me to shift my project from direct interaction with homeless individuals to a focus on invisibility and awareness in transit spaces.
3. Lecture: Understanding Space and Interaction
This session explored the psychology of movement and space, particularly in urban transit environments. The most impactful takeaway was how people navigate spaces habitually, filtering out unnecessary stimuli—which explains why marginalised individuals in transit hubs often go unnoticed.
How This Informed My Project
This insight led me to explore how graphic design can disrupt autopilot behaviours in commuters—through unexpected signage, altered wayfinding elements, or visual distortions that break routine movement.
It reinforced the importance of contextual placement—where a design intervention is located is just as critical as the message itself. Strategic positioning within high-traffic areas could maximize impact.
The lecture also highlighted the power of environmental storytelling—how people subconsciously interpret transit spaces based on their past experiences and expectations. This pushed me to consider using found objects, forgotten materials, and existing urban textures as part of my visual language.
Listening
Moving through a transit space is often an impersonal experience—people pass through without lingering, without truly seeing. But what happens when we stop and listen? When we attune ourselves to the unnoticed rhythms, the hidden stories, the quiet moments of connection?
Brian Eno’s Ambient 1: Music for Airports
Ben recommended listening to Brian Eno’s Music for Airports. Its slow, looping structure mirrors the repetitive rhythms of movement—people passing through, some unnoticed, some lingering. The ambient tones evoke a sense of stillness within motion, much like those who exist in transit spaces not as travellers, but as part of their daily survival.
This album has influenced my project by highlighting the hidden soundscapes of urban life. Just as Eno transformed airports into meditative spaces, I want to use field recordings to reveal the overlooked details—the hum of trains, distant conversations, the flutter of pigeons—bringing attention to the unseen stories within these environments.
Audio Recordings
Listening to the audio recordings from transit spaces—train stations, airports, bus terminals, and subways—revealed how sound shapes movement, detachment, and unnoticed presence. The layered interactions of mechanical rhythms, hurried footsteps, and automated announcements contrasted with subtle, often ignored details like rustling newspapers or whispered frustrations.
Research
Transit Spaces as Shelter
Researching transit spaces as shelters made me realise the deep irony at the heart of my project: these environments, built solely for movement and efficiency, often become temporary homes for people with nowhere else to go. This discovery challenged my initial assumptions, as I began to understand why homeless individuals gravitate to places like train stations, airports, bus terminals, and libraries—spaces offering warmth, safety, and basic amenities, as well as the possibility to blend in anonymously with the crowd.
However, I also learned these spaces are fundamentally unwelcoming. Through hostile architecture, security patrols, and ticketing restrictions, transit spaces actively reinforce exclusion. This insight shaped my understanding of how homelessness is managed rather than supported, deepening my resolve to use design as a tool for meaningful change.
Articles and Reports:
"Rough Sleeping in England: Causes and Statistics" This research briefing from the UK Parliament offers an overview of the causes of rough sleeping in England and provides insights from official statistics.
"Night Buses and Homeless Young People"
Centrepoint discusses the increasing trend of homeless young people seeking refuge on night buses in London, highlighting the dangers and challenges they face.
The History of Hostile Architecture
Learning about hostile architecture has made me realise how deeply embedded exclusion is in urban design, often in ways we barely notice. I used to think of benches, transit hubs, and public squares as neutral spaces, but now I see how they have been deliberately shaped to push certain people out—especially those experiencing homelessness. The fact that something as simple as a bench with armrests or spikes outside a building can dictate who is welcome and who isn’t feels unsettling.
One of the most striking realisations for me was how subtle and insidious modern hostile architecture has become. Unlike older, more obvious forms of exclusion—like gated parks in Victorian England or vagrancy laws—today’s urban design pretends to be functional while quietly reinforcing social boundaries. The Camden Bench in London, for example, is marketed as "anti-everything" design, yet what it really does is deny certain people—especially rough sleepers—any chance of rest. I find myself questioning: if cities are designed to make homelessness invisible, how can we ever begin to address it?
The more I research, the more I see the moral contradiction in how cities approach homelessness. On one hand, governments fund social programs to "help" rough sleepers; on the other, they install spikes, sloped seating, and motion-activated lights to ensure they have nowhere to exist. These spaces claim to be public, yet they quietly dictate who has the right to be there and who doesn’t. This realisation has made me reflect on how my project can challenge these systems, not just by raising awareness but by offering a structured way for homeless individuals to engage with transit spaces on their own terms, with dignity and agency.
It also makes me wonder: can we design urban spaces to encourage inclusion rather than exclusion? If a bench can be hostile, could it also be welcoming? If signage is used to police behaviour, could it also be used to guide people toward resources and ethical ways to engage? This history of hostile architecture has shifted how I see my own work—it’s no longer just about structured exchange, but about reclaiming public space as something that belongs to everyone, not just those who move through it without question.
https://www.bigissue.com/news/housing/hostile-architecture-campaign-london-homeless-spikes/
Vancouver Public Library: A Case Study
During my tutorial with Ben, he brought up the example of Vancouver Public Library as a space that unintentionally became a shelter for homeless individuals, particularly those struggling with fentanyl addiction. This case made me think deeply about how public spaces often take on roles beyond their intended function, creating tensions between accessibility, inclusion, and public discomfort.
What stood out to me was how the library, a place meant for reading, learning, and quiet study, became one of the few places where homeless individuals weren’t immediately excluded. In many ways, this mirrors what happens in transit spaces—places designed for movement but often used as temporary refuges by those with nowhere else to go. The struggle Vancouver faced is the same one seen in many cities: how do public spaces remain open and inclusive while also serving their original purpose?
This example reinforced something crucial for my project—exclusion doesn’t solve homelessness, it just displaces it. Instead of pushing people out of sight, can design help manage these evolving needs in a way that creates dignity and structure, rather than conflict? If libraries and transit hubs are already functioning as informal shelters, how can we stop seeing that as a "problem" and instead design ways to support both their primary function and the unintended role they now play?
Homelessness in Different Parts of the World
Researching homelessness globally has made me realise how the causes, perceptions, and responses to homelessness vary dramatically depending on social, economic, and political factors. While the core experience of displacement—lack of shelter, exclusion from public life, and systemic barriers to reintegration—is universal, the way societies react to homelessness is what shapes the reality for those affected.
In countries like the UK and the US, homelessness is often met with criminalisation and hostile architecture, pushing rough sleepers further into invisibility. Laws such as the Vagrancy Act (UK, 1824) and anti-camping laws in US cities treat homelessness as a nuisance rather than a crisis, reinforcing a cycle where people are fined or moved rather than supported.
In contrast, some Nordic countries, particularly Finland, have taken a "Housing First" approach, providing permanent housing before requiring individuals to address mental health or employment issues. This model has led to a dramatic reduction in rough sleeping and challenges the assumption that homelessness is inevitable. It makes me wonder: what if transit spaces, rather than being sites of exclusion, could act as small-scale interventions supporting movement toward stability?
Looking at Japan, homelessness presents differently—many unhoused individuals live in net cafés or capsule hotels, blending into society rather than visibly rough sleeping. The cultural emphasis on privacy and order means homelessness is less visible but still exists in hidden forms. This highlights how perceptions shape solutions—if homelessness isn’t seen, does that mean it’s not happening?
Perhaps the most extreme cases appear in places like Brazil and India, where informal settlements and extreme poverty make homelessness a structural issue rather than an individual failure. In cities like São Paulo, entire communities of unhoused people exist in public spaces, and social policies often fluctuate between support and violent eviction. This reflects a stark reality—some societies see homelessness as a problem to be hidden, while others cannot afford to hide it at all.
What stands out to me across these different models is that homelessness isn’t just about lacking a home—it’s about how society chooses to respond to those without one. The approach determines whether people are criminalised, ignored, supported, or integrated.
Why is Homelessness Overlooked?
Homelessness is often overlooked not because it is invisible, but because society chooses to look away. The presence of unhoused individuals in public spaces, particularly in transit hubs, city streets, and commercial areas, disrupts the carefully curated flow of urban life. People in these spaces are moving with purpose—commuting, shopping, working—and anything that challenges that sense of order becomes something to be ignored.
A key reason for this collective avoidance is discomfort. Seeing someone without a home forces a confrontation with inequality, suffering, and systemic failure, emotions that many would rather suppress than acknowledge. This leads to learned avoidance—commuters look past rough sleepers, businesses install hostile architecture, and cities develop policies that focus on removal rather than support. Over time, homelessness becomes something that exists in the background, acknowledged only when it becomes impossible to ignore.
There is also a deeply ingrained social narrative of blame. Many view homelessness as a result of personal failure rather than structural issues, making it easier to justify indifference. If people believe homelessness is self-inflicted—caused by addiction, bad choices, or unwillingness to work—they feel less compelled to engage with it. This perception is not only inaccurate but damaging, as it shifts responsibility from systemic solutions to individual moral judgment, further reinforcing exclusion.
Good Intentions, Unintended Consequences
Policies designed to "help" homeless individuals often end up doing the opposite—displacing rather than supporting them, pushing them further into instability. Many interventions, while framed as solutions, are ultimately about removal rather than meaningful aid, prioritising the comfort of the housed over the dignity of the unhoused.
For example, sweeps of encampments—often justified as safety measures—leave individuals with nowhere to go, destroying what little stability they had. Similarly, bans on sleeping in public spaces, anti-begging laws, and restrictions on tent cities force homeless individuals to constantly move, making it even harder to access services, maintain community support, or hold onto personal belongings. Instead of addressing why people are homeless, these policies merely push the issue out of sight, reinforcing the cycle of invisibility and exclusion.
Even well-meaning programs can have unintended effects. Short-term shelter initiatives may offer temporary relief, but without pathways to permanent housing, they become revolving doors that do little to change long-term circumstances. Some cities have introduced one-way travel programs, providing homeless individuals with bus or train tickets to leave an area, which only shifts the problem elsewhere rather than addressing its root causes.
This pattern of displacement over resolution ties directly into my project. Transit spaces are already sites of forced movement, where homeless individuals are told they cannot stay but are given nowhere to go. If design is to play a role in solutions, it must focus not just on visibility but on creating structured engagement that provides stability, however small, rather than perpetuating the cycle of exclusion. Instead of policies that "help" by erasing the problem, what if design interventions could offer genuine agency, dignity, and recognition? My project is about rethinking how public space engages with homelessness—not through displacement, but through participation and structured support.
Finding Balance
Transit spaces are designed for movement, yet for many homeless individuals, they become places of temporary refuge, survival, and exclusion all at once. This creates a tension between public efficiency and human need—commuters expect seamless travel, while those without shelter rely on these spaces for safety, warmth, and rest. Cities often resolve this imbalance through removal rather than accommodation, prioritising order over inclusion. But is there a way to design transit spaces that serve both groups without forcing a trade-off?
The key challenge is how to introduce elements of care without disrupting function. Some cities have explored multi-purpose seating, integrated social services, or designated rest areas, but these remain rare exceptions. More often, transit spaces reinforce exclusion through hostile architecture, enforcement policies, and social conditioning that teaches people to look away. This raises an important question: is there a role for design in creating balance, or is exclusion too deeply embedded in the way these spaces function?
I believe design has a place here—not by radically transforming transit hubs into shelters, but by subtly shifting interactions and perceptions within them. My project explores whether small interventions—structured exchanges, visual messaging, and ethical engagement models—can introduce moments of recognition in spaces that encourage indifference. The challenge is to test whether design can offer solutions that don’t compromise functionality but instead redefine how people co-exist in transit spaces. Can we design for inclusion without disruption? That’s the balance my project seeks to explore.
Survey
The survey provided key insights into how people interact with and perceive transit environments, offering valuable data that informs the direction of my project. Below is a breakdown of the findings based on each section of the survey.
Section 1
Demographics & Transit Behaviour
The demographic breakdown provided crucial context for understanding how different groups interact with transit spaces. The majority of respondents were based in urban areas, where transit hubs play a significant role in daily movement. Age distribution was diverse, indicating that perceptions of transit spaces vary across generations.
Most respondents rely on buses and trains, confirming that public transport users experience transit environments regularly. This reinforces the relevance of design interventions in these spaces, as they are high-traffic areas where passive behaviors can be disrupted through subtle yet impactful design elements.
Section 2
Responses in this section highlighted a pattern of passive observation in transit spaces. While a majority acknowledged noticing overlooked aspects, only a small percentage reported engaging with their surroundings in any meaningful way. Many respondents admitted to moving through these spaces without paying close attention, confirming the idea that transit hubs encourage functional detachment rather than active engagement.
Behavioural patterns also revealed emotional distance, with most respondents either avoiding interaction altogether or acknowledging but not engaging. These findings emphasise the need for design interventions that subtly invite interaction, prompting people to slow down and reconsider their surroundings without disrupting their routines.
Section 3
This section provided valuable insights into how people prefer to engage with transit space interventions. A majority showed interest in structured interactions, such as designed items or subtle engagement methods, rather than direct confrontations or unstructured giving.
The divided stance on hostile architecture reflects the complexity of transit spaces. While some respondents supported restrictive measures to maintain order, others saw these as barriers that enforce exclusion. This contrast suggests that design must strike a balance—introducing engagement in a way that feels seamless and natural rather than disruptive.
Experts
Psychologists
Aim: To understand the psychological impact of transit spaces on homeless individuals and the public.
Reflection:
Maria Smykla’s response made me reflect on the psychological impact of homelessness in transit spaces and how these environments shape both the experiences of homeless individuals and public perceptions of them. She described transit hubs as paradoxical spaces—offering temporary refuge but also constant uncertainty and exclusion. Homeless individuals rely on these spaces for warmth, shelter, and access to basic amenities, yet their presence is often challenged, reinforcing their precarious and unstable existence.
One of the most powerful takeaways from her response was the role of public perception in shaping the experiences of homeless individuals. Stigma, avoidance, and even hostility contribute to their invisibility, yet small acts of recognition—such as a simple smile or eye contact—can restore a sense of dignity and worth. This reinforces that my project should not only facilitate structured giving but also challenge commuter perceptions and encourage more mindful interactions. Could my designed materials—posters, stickers, or zines—carry messages that reshape public attitudes? Should the campaign include an educational element that highlights how small gestures can make a difference?
Her response also raised questions about how transit spaces could be redesigned to be more inclusive. She suggested dedicated information points, better access to hygiene services, and improved policies that focus on support rather than removal. While my project cannot directly change transit infrastructure, I can propose design interventions such as wayfinding systems or digital tools that help homeless individuals navigate to support services. If transit authorities remain resistant, could I explore alternative public spaces near transit hubs where such interventions could be introduced?
Moving forward, I need to integrate public awareness messaging into my structured exchange model, ensuring that my project is not just about giving but also about shifting perceptions. I also need to explore how small design interventions can act as subtle but meaningful support systems within transit environments. Maria’s insights made me realise that this project is not just about financial support—it is also about restoring dignity, fostering visibility, and advocating for long-term change.
Dieticians/Nutritionists
Aim: To explore the nutritional challenges faced by homeless individuals in transient environments.
Email: sylwia.bernas21@gmail.com
Reflection:
Sylwia' response provided valuable insights into the deep connection between nutrition, well-being, and the lived experience of homelessness in transit spaces. While my project initially focused on social visibility and structured engagement, her response highlighted a crucial but often overlooked factor—how food insecurity impacts both physical and mental health in transient environments.
One of the most striking points she raised was the lack of access to nutritious food in transit spaces. Homeless individuals often rely on high-calorie, nutrient-poor foods due to cost, lack of storage, and the absence of cooking facilities. This leads to chronic fatigue, weakened immunity, and long-term health conditions like diabetes, which further entrench cycles of hardship. More significantly, she pointed out how poor nutrition worsens mental health, increasing anxiety, irritability, and depression—especially in high-stress, impersonal environments like transit hubs.
This challenges me to think about my project differently. If transit spaces are already exclusionary by design, how much of this exclusion is reinforced by something as basic as food? I originally considered these spaces as sites of structured engagement, but her insights suggest that they could also be reimagined as spaces of care—not only through design interventions but also through practical solutions that support basic needs.
Ex Detective Inspector in the UK Police
Aim: To gain insights into managing homelessness in transit spaces and balancing security with empathy.
Reflection
Email from former UK police detective challenged many of my assumptions about homelessness in transit spaces and the structures that reinforce their exclusion. It is one thing to observe the presence of homeless individuals in these environments; it is another to confront the fact that their existence there is, in the eyes of law enforcement, entirely illegitimate.
Bob made it clear that policing homelessness is about removal, not support. Transit spaces are not designed to accommodate those with no place to go, and as such, anyone lingering without a ticket, a destination, or a defined purpose is simply trespassing. There is no consideration for why someone might be there, only that they should not be.
Another uncomfortable reality that emerged was the tension between public perception and individual dignity. Commuters do not expect to encounter homelessness in transit spaces. When they do, it unsettles them—not necessarily because of any direct threat, but because homeless individuals are seen as being "out of place". Their presence disrupts the assumed function of these spaces: movement. A transit hub is for people on their way somewhere, not for those with nowhere to go. This made me reflect on how deeply ingrained urban spaces are in reinforcing social exclusion—not through outright rejection, but through an implicit understanding that some people simply do not belong.
This raises a critical challenge for my project: How do I create a model of ethical engagement that does not feel like an intrusion? If my campaign is to be accepted, it must align with commuter expectations—not by concealing homelessness, but by integrating structured interaction into the fabric of transit spaces in a way that feels natural, permissible, and optional. The design must offer a predictable and controlled way for commuters to engage, so they do not feel confronted, obligated, or unsettled. This is not just about helping homeless individuals—it is about reshaping the social contract between them and the people who pass them by.
The discussion of organised begging also forced me to re-evaluate aspects of my approach. Bob spoke about criminal syndicates exploiting transit hubs, using homeless individuals to elicit sympathy in ways that are carefully orchestrated and financially motivated. This is a perception I must actively work against. If my project is mistaken for a more structured form of begging, it risks immediate rejection—by the public, by law enforcement, and by transit authorities. How do I ensure that this initiative is seen as an exchange, rather than a handout? The key lies in shifting the power dynamic—making it clear that homeless individuals are not asking for donations, but offering something in return: a designed object, a moment of connection, a structured and dignified interaction.
Then there is the issue of legality and enforcement. The police have no duty to support homelessness initiatives unless they directly relate to crime prevention. This means that my project must either work within existing frameworks—partnering with charities, transit authorities, or social enterprises—or risk being shut down before it even starts. The romantic idea of urban interventions disrupting the system is, in reality, unworkable. If this is to succeed, I must ensure that it functions within the law and is framed as an enhancement to public space, not a disruption of it.
What This Means for My Project
Legitimacy Must Be Designed In
Homeless individuals cannot simply "be present" in transit spaces—they must have a defined and accepted role.
The campaign must be structured, recognisable, and endorsed by a governing body (e.g. a charity or transit authority) to avoid immediate dismissal.
The project should explore ways to link engagement with existing services (e.g. transit passes, support networks) to give it credibility.
Public Comfort and Perception Are Critical
The campaign must offer a low-friction, controlled way to participate—commuters should feel in control of whether and how they engage.
QR codes, posters, and digital payment options could allow people to contribute without needing to stop or interact directly.
Design choices must signal structure, order, and legitimacy—clear branding, consistent messaging, and an official presence could reduce negative perceptions.
This Must Be an Exchange, Not Charity
The campaign must actively dispel associations with begging—homeless individuals should be seen as contributors, not petitioners.
Designing valuable, meaningful materials (e.g. stickers, zines, postcards) that feel like "purchased items" rather than charity handouts will be key.
The interaction should feel mutually beneficial, rather than one-sided.
Legal Barriers Must Be Acknowledged and Navigated
If transit spaces actively prevent homeless individuals from staying, the project must work with, rather than against, existing policies.
Partnering with homelessness charities, social enterprises, and transit authorities could provide a legal framework for participation.
If real-world implementation proves impossible within transit hubs, a speculative version of the project could still highlight its potential.
Final Thoughts
This interview forced me to confront the limitations of my project. It made me realise that good intentions alone are not enough—if this campaign is to work, it must be seen as legitimate by those who govern transit spaces and those who use them. It must navigate the tension between security, public perception, and dignity, while ensuring that homeless individuals are seen as active participants rather than passive recipients.
The most valuable lesson from this conversation? Urban spaces are not neutral. They are designed to keep people moving, and those who cannot move are treated as problems to be solved, rather than people to be supported. If my project is to challenge this, it cannot simply demand empathy—it must design a system that works within the existing social and legal realities of transit spaces while offering a tangible, structured way forward.
Where Do I Go from Here?
The interview with the ex-police detective made one thing clear: transit spaces are not neutral—they are designed to exclude those who don’t fit their function. Homeless individuals are seen as trespassers, and law enforcement’s role is to remove, not support them. If my project is to work, it must align with existing systems, not fight against them.
Key Adjustments to My Approach:
Work with Charities for Legitimacy
Instead of an independent intervention, I’ll seek partnerships with homeless charities (Crisis, Shelter, The Big Issue) to integrate my structured exchange model into existing social initiatives.
This ensures credibility, compliance with laws, and access to established support networks.
Reframe the Exchange to Avoid the ‘Begging’ Stigma
The campaign must clearly communicate that homeless individuals are providing something of value, not just seeking donations.
Contactless giving (QR codes, digital payments) could make engagement feel structured and optional.
Consider Alternative Locations
Instead of transit hubs, I’ll explore public spaces adjacent to stations, libraries, or markets where engagement is easier.
This avoids conflict with transit policies while still targeting commuters.
Instagram Diary
From the beginning of my project, I set out to document the unseen in transit spaces—the overlooked objects left behind in train stations, airports, and bus stops. My goal was simple: capture these forgotten items and share them on Instagram as a digital diary.
I decided to keep the format consistent: one post per finding, combining a still image of the object with a short video of its surroundings. By doing this, I aimed to highlight the things people pass by every day but never really see—discharged tickets, lost receipts, abandoned bottles—objects that reflect the transient nature of these spaces.
A Shift in Perception
Over the weeks, my focus subtly shifted. As I collected and archived these objects, I started thinking about how to visually translate their invisibility. I experimented with Photoshop’s motion blur effect, applying it over my found object images.
The result? A series of orange-toned abstract backgrounds, where the original objects had been transformed beyond recognition. What began as documentation became something else entirely: an exploration of movement, memory, and disappearance.
The Power of Motion Blur
The blur effect mimics the way we experience transit spaces—fleeting, rushed, never stopping long enough to focus. Commuters move quickly, filtering out their surroundings, often ignoring both the objects and people they pass. By distorting the images of these found objects, I unintentionally recreated this sense of social invisibility.
But why orange? It wasn’t intentional, but the dominant hues that emerged felt meaningful. Orange is associated with urgency, warmth, and caution—themes that resonate with the transient nature of these spaces and the individuals who exist within them unnoticed.
Reframing the Unseen
This experiment made me reflect on how design can reframe what is overlooked. By visually transforming these lost items, I made them more present, not less—forcing a second look, a reconsideration.
Could this approach be applied in a broader design context? Perhaps these abstracted images could serve as posters, print materials, or part of a public intervention to challenge passive commuter behaviour.
This wasn’t the outcome I originally expected, but sometimes, the best discoveries come from letting the process guide you.
Reflection
Through this project, I learned that the unseen is not always invisible—it’s just ignored. Whether it’s an abandoned ticket or a person in need, transit spaces condition us to look past, rather than at. My goal moving forward is to explore how design can disrupt this habit—how it can slow people down, make them notice, and encourage engagement.
?
Observational Research
For the past eight weeks, I have immersed myself in the unnoticed corners of transit spaces—paying attention to what is left behind, what gets ignored, and what tells silent stories of movement. My process has involved both observing and documenting, taking notes on small but significant details that most commuters overlook.
The art of looking closely
At first, I was simply recording what I found, but over time, I began to notice patterns. Certain objects repeated across different locations—discarded receipts, lost tickets, worn-out business cards, even forgotten food wrappers. Some were crumpled, others abandoned neatly, as if waiting to be picked up again.
I started asking myself:
Who left this behind?
What story does it tell?
Does this object have meaning beyond its original function?
Some of the most intriguing objects I discovered included:
A bolt and nut near a train station, rusting on the ground—once holding something together, now forgotten.
A torn approach chart at an airport—once a crucial tool for a pilot, now just scrap paper on the tarmac.
A single feather on an airport floor—trapped in still air, as if caught between journeys.
A faded business card at Gatwick Airport—its edges frayed, its owner long gone, yet still holding an identity.
A "NO STEP" warning on an aircraft wing—a message for engineers, unseen by the travellers on board.
Each object felt like a trace of movement, a piece of a journey that had been abandoned or left unnoticed.
Taking notes on the overlooked
With every object I found, I took notes—where it was, what condition it was in, and what it might mean in the context of transit spaces. Some items felt deeply personal, like a crumpled charity shop receipt, representing a moment of generosity that was quickly forgotten. Others, like the lost bolt or the Metro newspaper, hinted at the unseen infrastructure that keeps these spaces running—both physically and socially.
The impact of observing
This process has changed how I see transit spaces. They are not just places of efficiency but landscapes filled with traces of presence. Every object left behind represents a decision, an action, or a moment of carelessness. These objects, often unnoticed, become visual markers of movement, routine, and abandonment.
By documenting these findings, I hope to encourage others to look more closely at their surroundings. Perhaps in doing so, we can start to notice not just forgotten objects but also the people and experiences that are too often ignored.
This research will inform my design work, helping me develop visual interventions that challenge passive commuter behaviour and encourage engagement with the unseen.
Direct Press
For my direct press, I have chosen a bottle of water, slice of bread and piece od cardboard—each carrying a deep connection to both travel and survival.
Why Water?
Water is universal—every traveller carries it, whether on a long-distance journey or a short daily commute. It represents hydration, endurance, and necessity, yet for those without stable shelter, access to clean drinking water is often a daily struggle. Public water fountains have disappeared from many cities, leaving those in need reliant on costly bottled water or the generosity of strangers. By directly printing a bottle of water, I aim to highlight the privilege of access and the contrast between convenience and deprivation in transit spaces.
Why Bread?
Bread has a deep historical connection to travel, sustenance, and survival. It has been a staple food for centuries, carried by explorers, laborers, and pilgrims alike. For commuters, it may be a quick snack; for someone without food security, it can mean the difference between hunger and nourishment. The soft, porous texture of bread makes it an interesting object to print, creating an imprint that reflects its fragility—much like the precariousness of life for those struggling in transit spaces.
Why Cardboard?
Cardboard is a material with multiple meanings in transit spaces. It can serve as makeshift shelter, a sign for communication (such as handwritten messages for help), or simple packaging discarded by passing travellers. While for most commuters, cardboard is just packaging waste, for homeless individuals, it can be a lifeline—used for warmth, protection, or a voice. Pressing cardboard creates an imprint of its texture, reinforcing its presence as both a practical and symbolic material in urban survival.
Scanning
Scanning allows me to preserve the fragile details of these objects—the creases, stains, and marks of use that tell a story about their journey. Unlike photography, which captures an object within a wider scene, scanning isolates the item, forcing a closer look at its texture, typography, and wear.
Why Discarded Receipts and Tickets?
Receipts and tickets are fleeting documents of movement, transactions, and decision-making—physical proof of where someone has been and what they needed at a given moment. In transit spaces, they are constantly printed, used, and discarded, symbolising the temporary nature of travel. Yet, despite their insignificance in daily life, they reveal patterns of human behaviour, economic exchange, and personal journeys. By collecting and repurposing them, I aim to highlight how these overlooked fragments tell silent stories of movement, urgency, and consumption—remnants of people passing through but leaving behind small traces of themselves.
Why Found Objects?
Found objects in transit spaces represent unintentional artifacts of public life—abandoned items that once held value but were left behind, forgotten, or replaced. These could be buttons, bolts, packaging, business cards, or even lost personal belongings. Each object carries an untold story: Was it discarded by accident or on purpose? What role did it play in someone’s journey? Finding and preserving these items challenges our perception of waste and value, transforming what is typically ignored into something worth noticing. In my project, these objects serve as physical symbols of the unseen and unnoticed, drawing attention to the quiet details that shape transit spaces.
Why Maps?
Maps are designed for navigation, providing structure and clarity to complex journeys. However, when discarded, torn, or outdated, they take on new meanings—no longer guiding, but rather existing as remnants of past directions and lost pathways. A found map could represent missed opportunities, changed plans, or places someone was meant to go but never reached. In my project, maps become metaphors for movement and displacement, especially in the context of social invisibility. They serve as visual evidence of intended journeys, contrasting against those who remain in transit spaces without a clear destination.
Workshop- Polish School in Jersey
17.02.2025
As part of my ongoing research into transit spaces, and overlooked narratives, I wanted to explore different perspectives on these topics. While much of my work has focused on public perception, design interventions, and structured engagement models, I realised that there was one perspective missing: children’s.
Why?
Children have an unfiltered, instinctive understanding of the world around them. They don’t carry the same societal biases as adults, and their interpretations of social issues are often refreshingly simple yet profound. Given my Polish heritage and my previous experience working with Polish Saturday School in Jersey, it felt like the perfect place to facilitate a creative workshop and gather insights from young minds.
I went in with an open mind, but one key question guided my approach:
If you could give something to a homeless person, what would it be?
Rather than offering children predefined answers, I wanted to see how they naturally responded to the concept of homelessness. Would they focus on practical needs, like food and shelter? Or would they recognise the emotional and human aspects that often go unnoticed?
Findings
The responses I received were unexpected, heartwarming, and deeply insightful.
Jackson (5 years old): Drew a group of friends, because to him, homelessness wasn’t just about lacking a home—it was about loneliness and needing connection.
Maja (5 years old): Created a picture full of rainbows, a butterfly, and a bee. She explained that homeless people need happiness in their life.
Hania (6 years old): Thought about companionship and drew a dog. She said, "Someone should love them the way my doggie loves me."
Hubert (6 years old): Sketched a lion, saying that homeless individuals need bravery to face everyday life on the streets.
Scarlett (5 years old): Designed an inflatable house, explaining that it would keep them dry when it rains—a child’s simple yet practical solution to a complex issue.
Reflection
Children see homelessness differently than adults. What struck me the most was that not a single child mentioned money. While adults often frame homelessness as a financial issue—thinking in terms of food, shelters, or donations—children naturally focused on emotional and social needs. They didn’t see homelessness as just a lack of a house; they saw it as a lack of connection, joy, protection, and belonging.
The power of simple, yet profound ideas. A lion for bravery. A dog for love. A rainbow for happiness. These are not things that money can buy, yet they are essential for human well-being. Children instinctively understand that being seen, valued, and loved is just as important as physical survival.
Animals
Imagining which animal could symbolise homeless people in transit places.
Moth
A moth could be a powerful comparison for homeless individuals who are invisible in transit spaces.
Moths exist in the shadows, blending into their surroundings, often unnoticed until they move. Like those experiencing homelessness in transit hubs, they navigate spaces designed for others, drawn to light yet pushed into darkness. They are fragile yet resilient, surviving in overlooked corners of the city.
Pigeon
A pigeon could nicely symbolises the invisibility of homeless individuals in transit spaces.
Pigeons exist in the same public spaces as commuters, yet they are rarely noticed—unless they disrupt the flow of movement. They navigate cities with quiet resilience, finding shelter in overlooked corners, adapting to an environment not designed for them. Just like those experiencing homelessness, pigeons are often dismissed or seen as an inconvenience, rather than acknowledged as part of the urban landscape.
Despite being ever-present, they blend into the background—only truly seen when they cross paths with those rushing past.
Stray Cat
In transit spaces, the homeless could symbolize stray cats—moving through the city unnoticed, existing in the margins, and adapting to an environment that offers them no place of belonging. Like strays, they navigate hidden corners, seeking warmth and safety where they can, often met with indifference or avoidance. They are there, always present, yet only truly seen when they cross someone’s path, momentarily breaking the illusion of orderly movement before slipping back into the shadows.
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