“Often the most important things are only thought, never said.” archistist

architectural love

"In these matters the only certainty is that nothing is certain."
—Pliny the Elder (23 AD - 79 AD)

"The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty; not knowing what comes next."
—Ursula K. LeGuin

"Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd."
—Voltaire (1694-1778)

"Love is everything it’s cracked up to be…It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for."
—Erica Jong, O Magazine, February 2004

The heart fuels the mind, while the mind keeps the heart alive.

The artist always falls in love before the architect. The artist falls in love with the subject, finding a love that inspires work, creation, imagination; the architect falls in love with the work, always worried that any other love might prove too distracting.

The architect cuts out ‘unnecessary’ distractions, never realizing, perhaps, that such distractions, particularly those involving love, human love, only foster a deeper passion for life and an excited inspiration to produce great work, or to work greatly.

The balance, then, comes in realizing how to be both an architect and an artist. Is either love greater? This is relatively uncertain, but people are often more permanent than buildings. A building does not reciprocate matters of the heart, but serves only as a reflection of the passion, the love, of the architect.

Perhaps this is why so many fall in love with work, as in its muted reciprocation, it does not possess the ability to hurt—failure is not the fault of the building, the architectural product, and the architect has only to blame himself. But what is love without risk, without the possibility of being hurt, without one putting everything on the line for an uncertainty that might fail, but might be greater than the artist ever imagined.

This architect is naive; this artist is idealistic.

silent space

"In silence man can most readily preserve his integrity."
—Meister Echkhart

"Painting is just another way of keeping a diary."
—Pablo Picasso (1881-1973)

"Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting with the gift of speech."
—Simonides (556 BC - 468 BC)

That moment when one desperately grabs for the words that moments before fluttered from their lips. Such a disappointment, to know that once something has been heard, not said, it may never be forgotten. For the words that are spoken but never heard are merely secrets lost to the wind.

Perhaps it is easier to speak through paintings, poetry, buildings, space. Then again, one is oft to misunderstand the words of another, especially when they are simply hanging on the wall, are the wall, without the presence of their origin.
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