From a purely philosophical perspective, one may say that the only ‘true’ works of an architect are the ones that never came into physical being, their sanctity preserved in their intangibility.
The memory is almost visceral in its intensity; the overwhelming, consuming satisfaction of finishing one’s first design assignment – be it a humble cabin or a small amphitheatre nestled against a hypothetical hill – and the realization which hits us as we cap our Rotring pens, that somewhere, someday, this could exist.
Each member of the architectural community – whether a student, an educator, a theorist or a practitioner – can trace their steps back to this moment of revelation. The knowledge that our imagination might become home to ...
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