Flatland, written by British author Edwin A. Abbott in 1884, is a science fiction allegory set in a two-dimensional world. Through the encounter between a resident “Square” and a three-dimensional Sphere, the story explores the limitations of human perception regarding space and dimensions. In Flatland, “north” is a comprehensible direction within the two-dimensional coordinate system, whereas “up” refers to a dimension that cannot be described or even imagined.
In Chapter 19, when the confused Square asks the Sphere, “What? Northward?”, the Sphere replies firmly: “No, not Northward; upward; out of Flatland altogether.” Here, “upward” is not a geographical orientation but a cognitive breakthrough that transcends dimensional boundaries. The logic behind this statement lies in breaking the reference framework of the known world and introducing an unimaginable new direction.
To help the Square understand what “up” means, the Sphere further instructs, “Now stretch your imagination a little, and conceive a Square in Flatland, moving parallel to itself upward.” For the Square, this action is impossible within his world, since in a two-dimensional plane, all motion must occur horizontally or vertically. The act of moving “upward” implies something physically unattainable — a gesture that symbolizes the blind spots in our systems of knowledge that cannot be defined by language or experience.
Later, as the Square attempts to make sense of his experience, he reflects: “It was not so clear as I could have wished; but I remembered that it must be ‘Upward, and yet not Northward,’ and I determined steadfastly to retain these words as the clue…” Here, “Upward, not Northward” becomes not merely a spatial description but an epistemological entry point — a breakthrough that transcends the existing logical framework and represents an anti-orientational way of thinking. The transformation of dimension reveals the interdependence between spatial order, linguistic structure, and systems of knowledge. “Up” and “down,” “high” and “low” are not absolute physical directions, but relative concepts shaped by perspective and dimensionality.
I came to understand that Flatland, while narrating an abstract story about geometric dimensions, also questions the kind of reference systems that have been naturalized and taken for granted in human cognition. When we constantly position “north” as the top of the map, we are already caught within a Flatland-like illusion of coordinates.
It is worth noting that in Flatland, the concept of “upward” is not immediately accepted by the Square. When first confronted with the Sphere’s explanation, he resists, denies, and even attempts to refute the possibility of a third dimension using the logic of Flatland itself. This reaction reveals a kind of cognitive defense mechanism—the instinctive resistance individuals show when faced with knowledge that transcends established paradigms. We do not always welcome higher-dimensional understanding; rather, we tend to cling to the frameworks of knowledge that feel familiar and secure.
“Upward” thus signifies a form of decentralized thinking—an active practice of stepping outside established orders and reconstructing systems of reference. This breaking of reference systems carries profound implications. In the real world, for example, the Mercator projection places the Northern Hemisphere at the top while marginalizing the countries of the South, constructing an artificial world order rather than reflecting objective space. We are accustomed to seeing “north” as the top of the map, and “up” as a symbol of progress, advancement, and rationality. Yet behind these spatial conventions lie hidden projections of power structures, geopolitical hierarchies, colonial discourse, and epistemological dominance.
This made me wonder whether it might be possible to create a freer system of information organization — one without a fixed top or center, where any direction could serve as a point of departure, and no form of experience is placed above another. Its structure could be broken and reassembled, not instructing viewers on how to look, but inviting them to choose where to look from. All interpretations and experiences would be equally respected.
Fortunately, my research led me to Buckminster Fuller’s Dymaxion Map. This projection unfolds the Earth’s surface into a polyhedral network (usually an icosahedron), breaking away from the fixed “up” and “down” of traditional maps. Its deorientational character aims to downplay national borders and territorial divisions, presenting the planet as an interconnected ecological system. The Dymaxion Map’s rotatable quality embodies a rejection of fixed order: when “up” and “down” are no longer predetermined, every point on Earth becomes a potential point of view. The map thus does not show what the world looks like, but rather how it can be seen. It becomes not a tool of instruction, but an open system — an experiment in the decentralization of perception.
This idea inspired me to reconsider how information is structured and represented. When we rely too heavily on stable coordinates or singular visual logic, we continuously reinforce existing cognitive hierarchies. We often regard visual structures as neutral, but every fixed coordinate system and every default visual logic encodes a worldview. It silently determines the pathways of reading and perception — deciding what is foregrounded and what is pushed to the margins. Whenever we employ a centered structure or unidirectional flow of information, we unconsciously reproduce a hierarchy of cognition. The Fuller map reveals a critical question: can images free themselves from instructive structures, allowing viewing to become a negotiated rather than a submissive act?
If like Fuller’s map, I could construct a system without directional guidance, it would not simply rearrange structure for fairness — it would reject structural exclusivity altogether. It would allow for disorder, asymmetry, and openness, encouraging viewers to create their own paths within uncertainty. Such decentralization is an attempt to challenge the sense of control. In an informational environment without “north,” without “up,” and without a default center, the viewer is compelled to make their own judgments and choose their own orientation.
Abbott, E.A. (1884). Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions. London: Seeley & Co.
Buckminster Fuller Institute. (n.d.). ‘Dymaxion Map’. Available at: https://www.bfi.org/about-fuller/big-ideas/dymaxion-map/ [Accessed 10 Nov. 2025].