The theory behind modern architecture, as my dad was taught it anyway, which was revolutionary for its time, was to control the variable of time and space in order to create an emotional response. As you move from one space into another, you should come to expect what the next transition will bring.
It can and does happen haphazardly in nature, or driving down the highway, happens by accident that the brain starts to anticipate what is next to come. But ideally, in architecture, this effect is thoughtfully designed to achieve a desired effect. An entrance, a doorway, driving down an interstate and anticipating an overpass, passing under a bridge and getting a new view, a new frame of perspective.
“Some people may see a high ceiling and say, ‘What a waste to heat this large space, and all for what?’ But imagine if that high ceiling did not exist. What would be the effect then?”
Like that of a communist regime, I thought. The definition of persecution. The opposite of freedom and art and all that is beauty.
The purpose of architecture is to create a series of spaces that you pass through and allow you to create a connection with a space, allow you to get a feeling for what’s coming next. Much like with those of us who work with language, we do not want there to be a disconnect. We want to control the reader, control the variables to give us a desired response. Synapses connect, emotions are fired. Surprises without foreshadowing are a criminal offense.
But here’s the kicker: walk up the steps to my father’s house today and you will see crusted cat food on the porch, cobwebs on the ceiling. Open the door and a waft of mold and piss will knock you off your feet. Emotional response: check. Anticipation of what’s next? Achieved. Fleas will bite your ankles — fresh blood. Scurrying your children to use the restroom, don’t look at the loaded cat box, don’t breathe in, we will just use it and go in the time it takes to sing “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” don’t tell your father I let you in here. The stench will stick with you. You will wish you had remembered your mask.
How many of us apply these same rules to our lives, or do we let things happen haphazardly? A couple in my store, shy, apprehensive, I imagined they had met on a first date and, unknowing how to stop this train they had boarded, stayed on until marriage, kids, playing the roles they’d walked into without giving it much thought. Others, trying to escape or bury a life they don’t want others to know, hide it or try to burn the bridges as much as they can to start over anew. Stifle the feelings, hide who they are (which is a hot mess), fly across the world and start anew, taking on a new persona, waking up one day to discover they have a whole other identity all together.
The purpose of our lives is to create a life that reflects the inner workings of our heart, to create a connection between what we believe and how we live. The most beautiful lives are the ones that flow freely where there is a place for love and laughter and creative expression, for ourselves to unfold without it all going to shit. That inner truth will guide you, a skylight up a spiral staircase, the one you promised us as kids, up to the roof, up to the stars.
