On and on …

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Soundtrack

EDIT: This is GREAT! Of course the Japanese have already done it!

EDIT 2: Added some environmental stuff. Need to consider the noise and vibration from the road, as well, in a future spread.

Plus an excerpt of thesis elaboration done in the morning (before my brain had woken up).

Formal complexity does not equal intellectual complexity
and intellectual complexity does not need formal complexity.
Where I see ideas, she sees conversations. This poses a question:
What is the easiest thought one can think of? The easiest form?

The situation of the newly graduated student finding his way
into the architectural office is complicated by the structure of the office
and how it is set up to facilitate one kind of architecture
(the architecture of that particular office), which becomes a trademark
a quality guarantee, a stamp of approval, that is, approved by the figurehead(s)
of the office, which most often require just one person (Winy Maas, Koolhaas
Sejima, Rogers, etc.); if one is looking for a spokesperson, that person is chosen
depending on the context: negotiation with the client = the project head;
negotiation with a structural engineer = the detail designer;
presentation to the press = obviously the founder (if he is still alive);
introduction to the interns = the newly graduated enfant terrible
still with a foot in academia (an identity he is not yet willing to forsake
as he has not yet created himself a professional identity, by contrast).
The graduate is faced with the dilemma of leading a movement
which has no followers other than himself, must also investigate
to what extent the ideas one has concocted can be attractive to others.
A movement is born out of many hands, and it is many hands that builds
our buildings, that builds architecture (if not what *sells* architecture).

In bad times, the student has no choice; he goes to wherever work is.
If talented, he may have a slightly better chance of at least finding someone
who he has given a glance of passing admiration, a hero for the moment.
Rare are careers built on unclouded worship; one grows slowly tired of chocolate
if one has to eat it for every meal. The point is: if we do not have a choice
such as, as architects, not having the choice of not doing architecture
if the outer demands – in truth: the office we have constructed
drawn with a fascination for disgust – do their best to kill off any idealism
still operative in the diplomaed, honoured, and subsequently expatriated exstudent
then what is his response? Resistance? Abandonment? Heroic disillusionment?
No. He builds the road. He smashes through the walls of the office, sets up his own spine
for architectural production, infects the space with every lewd reference he can think of
squeezes in as many truckloads of intellectual cross-referencing as is possible
(as *should be possible*) in this particular location. He disrupts, but he also creates.
Here, infrastructure is not only understood as the pre-architectural installation
of systematised access, but as architecture itself, in its most prized gestalt:
that of being an initiator, accelerator and facilitator of change
a change which the young ones find necessary as part
of their sole being young – without an identity, but damn well set
on finding one, and, failing that, which most of us do, inventing one.

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