architonesty

What are we ultimately battling through architecture? That same grim ghost that we battle in every relationship, in every academic feud, in every story, in our quietest moments: isolation. What myriad forms and beauties what precious creations our Sisyphean battle against loneliness has birthed. That mercurial enemy that we find in that same room we lock ourselves into seeking refuge. We find the reality of a life led alone nauseating, vapid: the unwitnessed is no better than the untrue. What good is my triumph without the accolades of those who care? And so we, one, run to be two and begin fighting loneliness now with justification because the other has not met, not seen, not appreciated, not heard, not cared, not freed us from what we are and what we will always be, alone.
Look at us. 3, now four (hello beni-ben-ben, we all look forward to hearing from you) enchanted by the possibility of a blog where we might glean a glimpse of being met, being heard, being seen and witnessing others. We shall all be disappointed. Sisyphus has by now realized his fate is no mystery. Have you ever thrusted your fallice in the warm embrace of your lovers punani and been struck by the thought "this is good...this is great....why don't I just stay." But the moment you stop moving and establish yourself as met loneliness creeps from behind the stomach and has soon saturated the body. That grim ghost that keeps the pendulum of life in perpetual motion swinging from boredom to want.
So, what is it that I want from architecture? It is a plethora of those moments of reflection where I can bear witness to the friction of well lubricated movement. Where I can see all of those who are goaded by the grim gadfly of going it alone. I can sit and watch the birds sing their songs of longing. Here the crickets fight the silent abyss of the night sky by the friction of wing on wing. See the shopkeeper sweep the stoop outside his store, the beggar bear his final plea, the lovers taste the fleeting freedom. But most of all I want a space that will be hospitable to me when I cease struggling to find friction and welcome silence into my gut.
I aspire to an architecture that might make me more honest in understanding that the only reason I crave expansion is because I am compressed. The only way I recognize life is through movement and the only way I will ultimately be satisfied is if I turn around to meet my fate.

^v/