Profaning space

Body, visibility and vulnerability as practices of deactivation of the urban device

Ilaria Iacconi Iambrenghi

Abstract

In contemporary theoretical discourse, the concept of profanation developed by Giorgio Agamben stands out as a powerful category for interrogating the forms of separation that structure the present. To profane does not mean to destroy what is sacred, but to return to everyday use what has been withdrawn, separated, and made unavailable. If, within religious traditions, separation operated through sacrifice and ritual, in advanced modernity it is reorganised through economic, political, and aesthetic dispositifs that permeate space, time, and the bodies of everyday life. This contribution is situated at the intersection of political philosophy, critical urban studies, and crip theory, taking urban space as a privileged site for interrogating dispositifs of separation from use. The contemporary city constitutes one of the primary contexts in which this logic of separation can be observed. The organisation of urban space tends to privilege visibility, regulation, and controlled forms of use, producing an increasing distance between space and habitability, between experience and representation. The reflections of Walter Benjamin and Guy Debord provide fundamental tools for understanding how this separation takes on an aesthetic and political dimension, inscribing itself within regimes of vision and mediation. Within this framework, profanation can be understood as a practice of deactivation of the dispositifs that regulate access, use, and visibility. It does not take the form of an iconoclastic gesture, but instead of a suspension of prescribed function, capable of reopening the possibility of use where it has been neutralised or rendered improper. To profane the means to intervene in the mechanisms that assign to spaces and bodies legitimate roles, temporalities, and behaviours. The essay proposes to articulate this perspective from the body and its vulnerability by adopting intersectional urbanism as a critical lens. Far from being neutral, separation from use differentially affects bodies and subjectivities along axes of gender, health, disability, class, and temporal regimes. Through the concept of crip space, the contribution explores how spatial practices can render these forms of separation visible and deactivate them, restoring a dimension of everyday use to urban space.

Separation and Use: A Genealogy

In Giorgio Agamben’s thought, profanation does not coincide with an act of transgression or violent desacralisation, but with a restitution to use of what has been separated. Separation should not be understood as a simple prohibition, but as a positive operation that establishes a distinct, regulated sphere, withdrawn from common availability. What is separated is not merely removed but inserted into an order that defines its legitimate modes of access and use. In this sense, religion represents the original paradigm of separation, though not its only field of application.

Agamben shows how modernity inherits and reorganises this logic through what he defines as dispositifs. The dispositif is not an abstract entity, but a heterogeneous assemblage of practices, norms, forms of knowledge, and techniques that orient behaviour and produce subjectivities. To govern does not mean merely to prescribe what is permitted or forbidden, but to organise the field of the possible, defining what can be done, inhabited, or experienced. Separation from use thus takes shape as an ordinary technique of government, one that invests everyday life in its most elementary dimension.

Profanation intervenes precisely at this threshold. It does not introduce a new order, nor does it directly oppose the existing one, but temporarily suspends its functioning, returning to use what had been captured by function. To profane does not mean to replace one destination with another, but to render the destination itself inoperative, opening up an improper availability that withdraws the object, gesture, or practice from the logic of separation.

In this sense, use should not be understood as a simple alternative function or as an intentional reappropriation, but as what emerges when the destination is rendered inoperative. In Agamben, inoperativity does not coincide with inactivity or withdrawal, but with the suspension of purposiveness that makes another relation to practices and gestures possible. To profane, therefore, means not so much as ‘doing something else’, but rather interrupting the nexus between the means and ends that organises experience, restoring to space an availability that exceeds function.

Walter Benjamin’s reflections make it possible to grasp how this separation also assumes an eminently aesthetic form. The concept of aura does not designate merely a quality of the artwork, but a structure of distance that organises experience. Even when the object is physically close, the aura maintains its inaccessibility, preserving a separation that resists manipulation and transformation. Auratic distance is therefore not a simple spatial remoteness, but a mode of relation that precludes use.

With modernity, this structure is not eliminated, but reconfigured. The dispositifs of exhibition multiply visibility without thereby restoring use. On the contrary, display tends to coincide with a new form of withdrawal, in which visual access replaces the possibility of intervention. Experience is increasingly organised around the gaze, while direct use is rendered secondary, marginal, or improper. In this sense, the loss of aura does not imply a return to use, but rather a different administration of it.

It is in Guy Debord that this dynamic takes on an explicitly political and systemic formulation. The spectacle is not reducible to a set of images or media but designates a mediated social relation in which experience is progressively separated from life. What is expropriated is not only the object, but the very possibility of directly living what is represented. Separation no longer operates as an exception, but as the generalised condition of modern experience. Debord’s intervention clarifies that spectacle is not an excess of images but a historical organisation of social relations in which mediation replaces direct experience. The spectacle is not what we see, but the condition under which seeing substitutes for living. In urban space this translates into environments designed primarily to be perceived, circulated, and consumed visually, while the possibility of direct, transformative use becomes secondary or suspect.

This dynamic produces a subtle shift: separation no longer requires explicit prohibition. Instead, it operates through overexposure, through a saturation of representation that neutralises intervention. Space becomes available to perception while remaining resistant to appropriation. In this sense, spectacle intensifies rather than abolishes separation, transforming visibility into a new modality of distance.

Agamben, Benjamin, and Debord thus allow us to trace a genealogy of separation that traverses different domains yet converges on the same node: the subtraction of use as a form of governing experience. Profanation, within this framework, should not be understood as an oppositional or destructive gesture, but as a practice capable of intervening in this subtraction, rendering available once again what had been made untouchable, visible, or representable only according to prescribed modalities.

This genealogy does not aim to reconstruct a history of ideas, but to provide a conceptual grid for reading contemporary forms of the capture of experience. It is from this theoretical framework that it becomes possible to interrogate how separation from use is materially inscribed in space and in the dispositifs that organise everyday life.

The City as a Diffused Museum

The understanding of urban space as a dispositif of separation is indebted to a broader theoretical lineage. Michel Foucault’s analyses of disciplinary power show how spatial arrangements operate as technologies of governance, organising visibility, circulation, and conduct without necessarily resorting to explicit prohibition. Henri Lefebvre further radicalises this perspective by arguing that space is not a passive container but a social product shaped through the interaction of conceived representations, spatial practices, and lived experience. From this standpoint, the apparent neutrality of urban form conceals an ongoing production of normative spatial relations.
Michel de Certeau complements this genealogy by shifting attention toward everyday practices that appropriate, détourne, or subtly reconfigure institutional space. Walking, lingering, informal occupation, and minor spatial deviations do not overthrow the urban order but introduce tactical misalignments within it. These practices anticipate what is here described as profanation: not a frontal opposition to spatial dispositifs, but a situated suspension of their prescribed uses. Together, these perspectives make it possible to read urban space as the outcome of an ongoing tension between institutional spatial production and everyday practices of appropriation, deviation, and informal use — a tension that becomes central to understanding how separation from use is both imposed and intermittently undone.

Within the framework outlined by the preceding genealogy, the contemporary city can be read as a space in which separation from use takes on an eminently visual form. Neoliberal urbanism does not merely organise functions and flows, but constructs environments designed to be perceived and consumed through the gaze. Urban space thus takes shape as a continuous exhibition surface, in which visibility tends to precede and orient experience.

In this context, the production of space is increasingly mediated by representational dispositifs: renderings, visualisations, illustrated masterplans, and promotional images that anticipate and guide the perception of places. Even before being inhabited, the city is seen; before being used, it is displayed. Representation does not play an ancillary role but becomes an integral part of the urban project, contributing to the definition of expectations, behaviours, and legitimate forms of use.

This centrality of vision has a profound impact on public space. Squares, streets, parks, and waterfronts are designed as legible, traversable, recognisable settings, yet they are also tightly regulated. The possibility of lingering, modifying, or appropriating space is subordinated to predefined, temporary, and controlled forms of use. Visual accessibility does not necessarily coincide with experiential access: what is exposed is made available to the gaze, but not necessarily to intervention or transformation.

It is in this sense that the city can be understood as a diffused museum — not as a decorative metaphor, but as a mode of operation of urban space. This interpretation resonates with a broader body of literature on the aestheticisation of urban space, which has shown how contemporary cities are increasingly shaped by regimes of visibility, symbolic consumption, and experiential branding. Authors working across urban sociology, cultural theory, and critical geography have highlighted how urban redevelopment often privileges imageability, atmosphere, and recognisability over everyday usability.

In this perspective, aestheticisation does not simply mean beautification. Rather, it indicates a shift in the function of space: from a medium of social reproduction to a surface of representation. Classic urban analyses such as Sharon Zukin’s study of the redevelopment of Bryant Park illustrate how aestheticisation often coincides with intensified regulation. The park’s transformation into an attractive, highly curated public space improved safety and visibility while simultaneously narrowing the range of tolerated uses. What appears as revitalisation can thus operate as a subtle form of exclusion, in which design, management, and symbolic branding converge to produce a more legible but less appropriatable urban environment.

Space is organised to be seen, circulated, and narrated, often in anticipation of investment, tourism, or symbolic capital. The museum metaphor therefore captures not only the visual coherence of contemporary urban environments, but their orientation toward display, controlled access, and regulated experience.

As in a museum, environments and paths are organised for observation rather than touch; as in a museum, experience is mediated by implicit rules, orienting dispositifs, and forms of control. The city-as-museum does not preserve the past, but exhibits the present, translating everyday life into a sequence of coherent and recognisable images.

When visibility becomes the organising principle of space, use tends to be anticipated, delimited, and above all normalised. Dwelling is reduced to regulated consumption, and presence to authorised passage. Separation from use, already identified on a theoretical level, here finds a spatial translation that does not manifest itself as an explicit prohibition, but as a selective organisation of possibilities.

In this regime, the urban subject is primarily called upon to recognise, traverse, and consume space, rather than to modify it or inhabit it in a situated way. Consumption replaces use, and experience is organised as a legible sequence of surfaces and paths rather than as an open field of practices. The city-as-museum thus produces a form of aesthetic citizenship, grounded in regulated presence and the continuity of flow, leaving little room for improper, intermittent, or non-performative uses.

It is from this condition that it becomes possible to interrogate the forms through which urban experience can be suspended, misaligned, or rendered improper with respect to dominant visual and functional regimes. The city as a diffuse museum does not exhaust the discussion. However, it constitutes an analytical threshold from which a reflection can open onto practices capable of interrupting the dispositif’s continuity.

If separation from use assumes an eminently visual form in the contemporary city, then visual culture is not merely a field of representation, but a site in which the dispositif is reproduced and can be contested. Renderings, visualisations, and promotional images do not function solely as communicative tools: they define in advance what is recognisable as “urban space,” which practices appear legitimate, and which remain invisible or out of frame. The city-as-museum is not only a collection of places, but an image regime that organises access through visibility.

One of the most visible contemporary attempts to profane the visual dispositif operates within investigative and counter-forensic image practices. Within this framework, certain contemporary representational practices can be read as attempts to profane the visible. Where spectacular visuality produces distance and neutralisation, practices such as spatial investigation and forensic reconstruction call the self-evidence of the image into question and overturn its function: not image as showcase, but image as evidence, as counter-narrative, and as reappropriation of a confiscated experience. In this direction, works such as those produced by Forensic Architecture show how the image can be withdrawn from its promotional function and returned to a counter-hegemonic use.

In practices such as those developed by Forensic Architecture, the image is removed from the logic of immediacy and spectacular consumption and reinserted into a slow, analytical, and conflictual temporality. Far from producing new icons, these practices deactivate the image’s aesthetic function, transforming it into a trace, a clue, and evidence. What is profaned is not only the visual regime, but the very idea of evidence as a form of direct access to reality. In this displacement, the image once again becomes a space of critical use rather than consumption.

Intersectional Urbanism: When Separation Is Not Neutral

The separation from use that characterises contemporary urban space does not operate uniformly or abstractly. It affects specific bodies and subjectivities through structural differences related to gender, health, disability, class, and the temporalities of everyday life. Adopting an intersectional urbanism perspective means recognising that space is not a neutral container, but a matrix of power in which these dimensions materially intersect, producing differentiated access, unequal possibilities, and selective forms of visibility.

Recent work such as Intersectionality and the City (Bernroider et al, 2025) signals a growing attention to the intersectional dimensions of urban space. However, much of this literature remains focused on representation, access, and identity recognition, while the question of separation from use — particularly in relation to visibility regimes and embodied vulnerability — is less systematically addressed. Intersectional urbanism engages with this emerging field but shifts the focus toward how spatial norms organise spatial agency, temporal alignment, and everyday inhabitation.

In this sense, intersectional urbanism does not take shape as a mere aggregation of categories, but as a lens that makes legible how urban space normalises certain bodies while marginalising others. The implicit norms that regulate the use of space — speed, autonomy, continuity, productivity — are constructed around an ideal subject that coincides with an efficient, available, and performative body. Everything that deviates from this standard is tolerated only in residual, temporary, or assisted forms. This perspective resonates with the intervention proposed by Alison Kafer, who invites us to move disability away from an individualised deficit framework toward a political-relational understanding. Rather than conceiving vulnerability as a lack to be compensated, Kafer shows how it emerges within specific socio-material arrangements that distribute access, legitimacy, and futurity unevenly. From this standpoint, urban space cannot be considered a neutral backdrop but becomes one of the sites where disability, gender, class, and health are actively produced as differentiated conditions of inhabitation. Intersectional urbanism extends this insight spatially, interrogating how the built environment stabilises some bodies as normative while rendering others provisional, assisted, or out of place.

Beyond Inclusion: Deactivating the Norm, Not Integrating the Exception

It is on this material plane, and not only on a conceptual one, that separation from use also reveals its non-neutrality. When spatial norms are assumed as technical givens or functional requirements, they continue to operate silently as measures of dwelling, selecting legitimate bodies, temporalities, and practices. It is from this differential materiality that it becomes necessary to shift the discourse away from access to the norm and from mere presence, toward use.

Adopting an intersectional lens implies taking distance from the vocabulary of inclusion that dominates much of the institutional discourse on space. To ‘include’ literally means to put someone inside who was previously outside. For this very reason, inclusion tends to preserve intact the presupposition that produces exclusion in the first place: the existence of a legitimate inside and an outside to be integrated, the presence of a silent norm that defines who counts as a full inhabitant and who is admitted only as an exception. In this sense, inclusion does not put the separating structure into crisis but manages its effects.

From this perspective, inclusion risks operating as a technique of government. It does not remove separation from use but administers it through adjustments and accommodations that maintain the existing spatial order. The problem is not adding vulnerable bodies into a given arrangement, but interrogating the arrangement itself that produces out-of-place bodies, improper temporalities, and illegitimate presences. What appears as design neutrality is often the spatial translation of an implicit subject — autonomous, continuous, efficient — that functions as the tacit measure of dwelling.

In this sense, intersectional urbanism does not coincide with a more advanced form of inclusivism. It does not aim to “let in” those who have been excluded, but to render visible the norm that produces exclusion as an ordinary condition. Its starting point is more radical and, at the same time, more literal: we are already here. There is no abstract body to be included, but a dispositif to be deactivated, because what is separated is not only subjects, but possibilities of use, forms of permanence, and non-performative temporalities.
Separation from use indeed strikes differentially. Fatigued, painful, intermittent, or vulnerable bodies encounter a space that exposes them to the gaze while limiting its habitability. Visibility, far from being an index of inclusion, often becomes a condition of exposure without effective spatial agency, in which presence is admitted only on the condition of not interrupting the flow, not slowing the rhythm, not exceeding the prescribed function. In this framework, exclusion operates not primarily through explicit prohibition, but through a design that renders specific uses impracticable and certain presences structurally out of place.

Intersectional urbanism allows this condition to be read as the outcome of a specific spatial organisation of power, rather than as a side effect or a lack of adaptation. It is from this awareness that profanation can be conceived as a situated practice: not as an undifferentiated reactivation of space, but as an intervention into the concrete forms of separation that affect particular bodies and temporalities. In this passage, the vulnerable body emerges not as an exception to be integrated, but as an epistemic threshold from which to rethink dwelling.
It is on this material ground, where spatial norm and body come into friction, that profanation can be thought not only as a concept, but as a situated practice.

Crip Space as a Practice of Profanation

If the contemporary city operates as an aesthetic dispositif that separates visibility from use, the vulnerable body is one of the points at which this separation ceases to function silently. Not because the body symbolically exceeds the urban order, but because it puts into tension material presuppositions taken for granted: continuity, autonomy, performance. Crip and feminist theories show that space is designed around an implicit subject whose capacity to move, pause, and dwell is assumed to be evident and universal. Those who deviate from this standard are not simply excluded but rendered problematic within an order that continues to present itself as neutral.

Robert McRuer’s notion of compulsory able-bodiedness is particularly helpful here. McRuer shows how contemporary societies naturalise able-bodiedness not as one bodily condition among others, but as the silent norm organising institutions, expectations, and environments (McRuer, 2006). Urban space participates in this compulsory regime: it presupposes speed, continuity, endurance, and autonomy, treating them as neutral design parameters rather than ideological assumptions. Crip spatial practices expose this presupposition precisely by failing to align with it, transforming misfit into a critical resource that reveals the contingency of what is presented as universal.

From this perspective, vulnerability is not an individual property or a contingent datum, but a produced spatial relation. The vulnerable body does not fail in urban space; it is space that fails to recognise it as a legitimate measure of dwelling. Recent architectural theory has also begun to foreground the entanglement of space, health, and bodily normativity. In Sick Architecture (Colomina, 2025), Beatriz Colomina explores how architecture has historically participated in the production of medicalised environments and normative bodily standards. This perspective reinforces the idea that vulnerability is not external to spatial design but actively shaped by it, confirming that the relation between body and space is neither neutral nor merely functional, but deeply political and cultural. Ableism operates not only through physical barriers but through a normative regime that assumes capacity as an implicit obligation. Likewise, the visibility of the non-conforming body is often accompanied by a management of the gaze that exposes and regulates without restoring access to use.

This dynamic does not concern disability alone. It traverses those bodies that the city renders legible without recognising them as complete inhabitants. Feminine and feminised bodies, racialised bodies, precarious bodies encounter space as friction: made visible but not legitimised in use. Space is not neutral, but oriented: it favours specific movements and directions, while others encounter obstacles, deviations, and arrests. Friction is not an accident, but the effect of an orientation that assumes an implicit subject as the measure of dwelling.

In this sense, visibility does not coincide with recognition. Hypervisible bodies in urban space are often those whose presence must be managed, surveilled, or contained. The city admits them as image, as passage, as exposure, but rarely as stable use. This logic runs through transformations linked to urban poverty, gentrification, and housing precarity. Urban space becomes one of the primary dispositifs through which capitalism manages human surplus, producing expulsion, concentration, and differential vulnerability. Critical accounts of securitised urbanism have long documented these exclusionary dynamics. Mike Davis, for instance, describes how late-capitalist urbanism increasingly relies on architectural and spatial strategies, such as defensive design and securitised public space, to manage perceived surplus populations. These processes do not simply exclude bodies from space; they reorganise visibility, mobility, and legitimacy of presence, reinforcing the separation between authorised use and improper dwelling.

At the same time, many forms of urban dwelling are rendered illegitimate not because they are informal or precarious in themselves, but because they are not recognised as valid uses of space. Informality is not the opposite of order, but one of its selective productions. From this perspective, unproductive use, non-finalised dwelling, waiting, and shelter become practices constantly threatened with expulsion. Expulsion, delegitimation, and stigmatisation thus appear as convergent modalities of the same separation from use.

It is here that the question of use assumes decisive theoretical centrality. Use does not coincide with the assigned function, but with a quotidian practice that exceeds planning and resists complete formalisation. In the contemporary city, however, use is progressively captured and subordinated to visibility, circulation, and valorisation. What does not align with these criteria is tolerated only as a temporary exception.

Within this entanglement of gender, race, class, and capacity, it becomes clear why the vocabulary of inclusion proves insufficient. If the problem is not the accidental absence of certain bodies, but the norm that organises spatial use, inclusion risks translating into a form of governed integration. Post-inclusivism, in this perspective, is not a moral stance, but a profanatory method: it assumes that bodies are already present and that what is lacking is not nominal access, but the legitimacy of use.

It is in this gap between presence and legitimacy that the concept of crip space becomes relevant as a practice of profanation. Crip space does not designate a dedicated space nor a simple extension of accessibility policies. It emerges when the presence of vulnerable bodies renders the prescribed functions of space inoperative, even if only temporarily, bringing to the surface the normative presuppositions that sustain it.

The temporality that emerges in crip space is not simply slower but misaligned with the rhythms that organise the performative city. Waiting, stoppage, repetition, and fatigue introduce a rupture in the continuous times of circulation and productivity, making visible the normative character of what is taken to be ‘urban time’. In this sense, crip space does not claim an alternative time to be institutionalised. However, it renders perceptible the arbitrariness of dominant temporal regimes, opening a space of use that does not coincide with efficiency or continuous presence.

It is not another space, but a situated transformation of ordinary space, produced through interruption, slowing down, and inadequacy with respect to prescribed times and uses.

This deactivation directly affects the visual regime. When the body occupies space in unforeseen ways, the continuity of the city-as-museum cracks: space can no longer be read as a smooth, immediately consumable surface, but once again exposes friction, materiality, and unsynchronisable temporalities.

In this sense, crip space does not merely denounce exclusion, but operates as a profanatory practice. To profane means to restore to space an availability that exceeds function and representation. Places of waiting, incompletion, forced pause, or limit become spaces in which use re-emerges as a non-prescribed possibility, reintroducing non-performative temporalities and calling into question the equation between access, efficiency, and visibility.

Profanation does not exist or institute. It renders a destination inoperative, suspends a function, and opens an improper availability. In crip space, this inoperativity does not coincide with emptiness, but with an active condition in which use is not immediately oriented toward production or circulation.

There is finally an aesthetic stake. By cracking the visual continuity of the city-as-museum, crip space introduces opacities and misalignments that resist spectacular capture. Space ceases to appear as a coherent image and returns to being perceived as an environment that offers resistance. In this sense, profanation does not simply restore use but alters the regime of the visible.

Crip space should not be understood as an outcome to be pursued or a model to be institutionalised. Its force lies in its precarity and temporality: it marks the point at which the city, as organised by urban capitalism, reveals its inability to absorb vulnerability without neutralising it. It is in this inability that the space of profanation opens, as a temporary restitution of use and a reopening of dwelling.

Returning to Use

Profanation, as it emerges throughout this trajectory, does not coincide with a resolutive gesture or an alternative project. Instead, it operates as a practice of subtraction, intervening where separation from use has become ordinary and invisible. To profane does not mean to introduce a new order, but to render the existing one unstable, temporarily suspending the functions that govern space, time, and bodies.

From this perspective, the contemporary city appears less as an object to be reformed than as a dispositif to be deactivated, even if only partially. Vulnerability, far from being a limit to be compensated, emerges as one of the points at which this deactivation becomes possible, because it puts into tension the continuity of use, visibility, and performance. It does not produce solutions but opens frictions; it does not find models, but interrupts automatisms.

Returning to use does not mean recovering a lost fullness, nor claiming universal access. It means, instead, keeping open an improper availability, in which space is not entirely captured by function and remains partially appropriable beyond prescribed uses, so that dwelling does not coincide entirely with performance. It is in this unstable, fragile, and reversible openness that profanation finds its force: not as a definitive answer, but as a practice that insists precisely where the dispositif claims to be total. It remains a minimal gesture, an intermittent possibility of restoring to space and to what had been separated, without stabilising it, protecting it, or rendering it safe.

Bibliographic references

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Abstract

The contribution investigates the concept of profanation as a critical practice capable of interrogating contemporary forms of separation from use that permeate urban space. Drawing on Giorgio Agamben’s reflections, profanation is understood not as an iconoclastic or transgressive gesture, but as the suspension of prescribed function and the restitution to use of what has been withdrawn and rendered unavailable. The essay develops a genealogy of separation that, through the works of Walter Benjamin and Guy Debord, brings to light its aesthetic and political dimensions, showing how the contemporary city increasingly operates as a visual dispositif privileging exhibition, regulation, and controlled forms of use. Within this framework, urban space is analysed as a diffuse museum, in which visibility does not coincide with access to use but often neutralises it. Adopting the lens of intersectional urbanism, the contribution demonstrates how separation from use is not neutral but differentially affects bodies and subjectivities along axes of gender, health, disability, class, and temporality. Through the concept of crip space, the essay ultimately explores how bodily vulnerability can operate as a situated practice of profanation, rendering dominant spatial and temporal regimes inoperative and reopening, in an unstable and non-institutionalisable form, a possibility of common use of urban space.

keywords | Profanation; Use; Urban space; Intersectional urbanism; Crip space.

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Per citare questo articolo / To cite this article: Ilaria Iaccone-Iambrenghi, Profaning space. Body, visibility and vulnerability as practices of deactivation of the urban device, “La Rivista di Engramma” n. 323, marzo 2026.

Per citare questo articolo / To cite this article: Ilaria Iaccone-Iambrenghi, Profaning space. Body, visibility and vulnerability as practices of deactivation of the urban device, “La Rivista di Engramma” n. 323, marzo 2026, pp. xx-yy | PDF dell’articolo