Inner City Life

Architecture spans generations and while it may draw interest it is new work that is subject to span this continuum. It makes great architects and great buildings and leaves us with dangerous ideas exposed to a student’s vulnerability. We have all been there, listening intently to those architects that kiss and tell, navigating the future through the maelstrom of mediocrity. They are only silenced when they travel their lines of the 4th dimension so instrumental in death. A borrowed idea of projection that Modernism kindly trod on, that marks the apex of existence. That which has been drawn into being is an awareness of time in all its guises, coveted by misdirection for both the eye and the ear.

A Master’s work is never done, it is continued with a vengeance to confirm the fount of intelligence. Gender racial, it requires a radical reinterpretation of the models in the world order marked by architecture to assert its authority by default. It is the pretence of the word in elevation, forced to direct the truth at those that were born to lie. Silence has the ability to turn this around by shouting out the mechanics of the architectural imagination in attempt to appease the notion of terror that is implicit in the complete workings of architecture.

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