"You own me. There's nothing you can do."

As I try to assess & work through this semester's frustrations, I still feel that occasional rush of energy when something within a project begins to reveal itself. It's one of those instances when design-- and the process- begins to show its true colors; these moments come & go-- their capricious revelations go hand in hand with trying to figure out our own process. It's a reminder of why I began studying architecture in the first place; those mysterious situations that make you stop in your tracks to admire someone's work will always materialize as you develop a further knowledge of something you love. As we move forward in our studies, we begin to have these beautiful revelations at a higher frequency. 

Even moments away from school have turned into talks on design. As I sat at the bar with a fellow Pratt architecture student, we started talking about how we judge the design of everything we see, including the female form (my attempt at humor was saying that a particular girl standing near by was not designed using the Golden Section). We talked about what we would do after architecture-- if we were so inclined to try something new-- but agreed that we couldn't see ourselves doing that for quite some time. I have already switched paths (English/World Lit. to Architecture) & I would like to believe I'll be practicing until the last days of my life. The fact that design encompasses so much of life makes me excited to begin working on every new project I can & use everything that isn't "architecture" to influence or propel a design project. 

After registering for Summer classes, I have found something to look forward to as this semester whimpers along towards an end we're all looking forward to just to end the school-wide frustrations we encounter. Every (new) studio allows for a new way to look at things, a new perspective from someone in the field, & the opportunity to show just how much of our daily life is effected by what we study. 

"It tries to kill me, but I kill it first."

The general feeling of frustration --bordering on apathy- is starting to build amongst my peers. There's a sense of confusion this semester brought on by the selection process of a new Department Chair & the past week's visit from the NAAB team. The usual go-to rut breakers have all been run dry as we try to figure out just what is happening here. We feel like a bunch of lame duck students as our future-- as well as the future of our program- is decided by people other than ourselves. While I make a vigilant effort to not engage in any politics or gossip within the process, it's becoming nearly impossible to not voice an opinion when it has such a grave effect on my future not only here at Pratt, but in the design world at large.

I have been incessantly referring to the idea of "killin' it 24/7 forever"; this concept relates to making my work something I can be proud to present or use to represent my efforts & talents as a designer. This notion was derived from various sources: an interview with pro skater Anthony Pappalardo for VBS' Epicly Later'd, Coalesce's "Where the Hell is Rick Thorne These Days", a tongue-in-cheek phrase from my friend Tim, & the overall feeling of needing to "make my mark" on the design world. There are plenty more sources that have contributed to this idea; it grows daily as I investigate it more & more.

The notion of being in a rut has begun to set it. Am I just spinning my wheels here or is there some deeper meaning to this are of confusion? Is there any sort of action that I can use to make sure I'm getting the best out of my education as it sits stagnant? I've discussed this with a friend feeling the same way about our school-- his attitude is much more "fuck this!" than mine. Is there anyway we can be subversive-- preferably through our design process- and still somehow "break it down from the inside"? How can I continue to "kill it" as I question exactly what I'm supposed to be killing?  These are the questions that I'm looking to answer. Any advice is greatly appreciated.

"We're gonna rise above."

These slow-paced days are waning. All that talk of needing a break seemed so jejune when I got back into the studio. Who could want a break from the myriad of inspiration & unadulterated production? We find patterns of work & glimpses of pure genius in unexpected places. We align & realign out allegiance to the people we see prosper not to hitch onto their coattails, but to gain a bit of that blinding light we're all seeking. A rebirth of our generation is occurring on a daily basis within these walls. I'm both grateful & responsible for the opportunity.

"We were sleeping until you came along."

As I walked around the Whitney Museum of American Art, I couldn't help but realize how solemn the building felt as a whole. The closest thing to ebullient were the apertures on the north facade, inserted at odd angles against the tyrannical orthogonality of the building's facade. These moments helped to express the feelings of joy I experienced from the work of Roni Horn, despite the fact my favorite works-- Another Water- were not located in the rooms with these windows. Every stairwell felt like an opportunity to begin anew, to view something with fresh eyes, & I think the decision to take the stairs helped that feeling. Movement in a space is always a vital aspect, something we might take for granted on a daily basis.
After visiting the museum, I walked through Central Park and was immediately reminded of the scale of the city. It's these brief moments of cognizance we should alway remember; short, yet truly heavy, moments that help us to realign ourselves. Those moments of confusion or dread are wiped away in one swift motion & we're immediately ardent to engage in new tasks. I left the city with my head a bit clearer during this break. I became a bit more aware of my ability to produce outside of the studio & found the simple push needed to do so.

Staring into Pascal's Abyss

While reading Anthony Vidler's "Warped Spaces", I learned that Blaise Pascal suffered from an affliction where he always felt there was an endless void on his left side. This occurred after an accident which almost threw him into the Seine River. I used to have a similar experience while driving to my mother's house; I would envision something crashing into my passenger door as I drove past the fields leading to her house. I'm not sure what caused this "vision" or how it faded away, but it began a long process of dealing with the notion of mortality & how we deal with the passage of time.

To say this year has been a whirlwind would be a massive understatement. Moving to Brooklyn, attending Pratt, making new friends & leaving some behind, dealing with the deaths of my cousin & a newly made acquaintance... All of these have made this year what it is. I have also felt the shift in generational power: my brother will soon become a father, my grandparents have shown signs of aging (Pop held my arm as we traversed some snow & ice, triggering more thoughts on mortality), & spending Christmas with my cousins, most of whom are married with children. This idea of time within our world has never seemed so urgent as I live in "my own little world" in Brooklyn. That sense of detachment allows me to live as selfishly as I want to live.

As much as I like to escape for a few days from Brooklyn, I am instantly reminded of what I escaped from: suburban dystopia. I am beyond the point of "no offense, but suburban living bores me to tears" & feel no need to apologize for it. I have fallen into the "I don't own a television" crowd; it seemed like an extremely snobbish thing to say, but I felt no need to defend myself to my family as i plead ignorance of what was happening in the world of television & 'entertainment'.

I have begun another cycle of stripping away the things I don't feel are necessary or hinder moving beyond what I look at with utter disdain. Of course this usually begins with trying to minimize hints or symbols that may cue how people perceive me. This whole process is completely vain & often does not actually remove me from The Spectacle. These are minor steps of re-invention that allow us to grow while we sit idle between periods of production. All of this free time & nowhere to go. This begins the desire to be able to produce on my own terms- outside the realm of school- and see what develops.

Sometimes this process begins with the stripping of labels, associations to schools of thought, re-establishing history, or the cliche notion of resolutions. These precedents often hinder our vision & make us vote down the party line: "Oh, you live in Williamsburg? You must be a hipster." I have felt the need to dissociate myself from concrete ideas or passing trends, yet I often end up with some mediated opinion pouring out of my mouth without much filtering. This leads to defending past ideals in order to realign how we plan on living from this day forward. If we hope to push the evolution of society into something a bit more engaging, perhaps starting with ourselves is the best course of action. This may involve a lot of open mindedness & not trusting our first reaction to a particular topic; living on instinct has rarely been effective.

All of this to say I'm passed transitioning. I am ready to consume each day, project, & friendship with the fervor & attention they deserve. Less dreaming, more doing.

"Either dead or alive or in a million pieces."

As we begin to wrap up our first semester-- the time has flown by- we begin to see the correlation between our effort & work. We're progressing towards new ideas still developing into the greater scope of what we hope to achieve. All those hours sketching, sanding, tediously drawing construction lines, & fighting exhaustion will one day pay off. We're inspired daily by something-- or someone- and have to properly direct the inspiration into tangible mediums. During an informal desk crit today, our professor told us the story of a seeing eye dog that kind of put things into perspective:

Have you ever been to the Port Authority bus station? It's fucking CRAZY! I have a full field of vision & I could barely find my terminal. But, I watched this seeing eye dog walk his owner to the correct spot despite the amped up level of activity. You guys should be like the seeing eye dog; as the work increases its need to 'sweat', force that activity upon the model. As the level of work increases, you need to increase the amount of precision & work you put in.

This advice felt like another turning point in what I have personally dubbed a "transition period" in my college career. Much like when I moved here, the need to shed that "newness" skin has arrived. I feel that we must constantly push ourselves-- no matter what we're striving towards/for- to fully realize the notion of Beauty in our temporal, often esoteric worlds. We must constantly mine, filter, & push the limits of what we find inspiring. Wasted potential has plagued our generation as a whole for quite some time now; I'm tired of being wrapped up in "the Spectacle" & truly want to return to "the Oneness" (Thank you, Mr. Zak Loyd).

"Your hands do not look like they're your's."

We build to express ideas set forth by a practical art form debated upon for years. All of this intellectual discussion has to transform from a weightless idea into a tangible 3D form. We're taught how to look at things with a prejudiced eye; to create a dichotomy between the 'representational' form & the robust embodiment of what we're trying to convey. We're constantly grasping at a process that is two steps ahead & laughing all the while. The ideas expressed often move at a slower pace than we build. We construct, deconstruct, & reconstruct without ever truly completing our thoughts. We tear away the pieces to reveal a skeletal notion of process; a bare bones approach to a complex & intricate problem. We sketch away the vigor of the project in order to do something-- anything!- that leads to production. Those walks around the block are often lies to ourselves. We try to force ideas that may never fully gestate much like people who pray to God to fix a problem immediately. There's never one singular solution-- we must create a laundry list & go with what will allow the project to spill over the sides. I'm not sure if I can swipe at my process, but it's in view. The pressure of a deadline is often the starter pistol that sets us up to produce. Ten days out & counting.