What have we become...

Back in architecture school I was a large fan of Lebbeus Woods. There was something completely satisfying in the society depicted by Woods, a deconstructed future built from the scrapes of a comfortably modernized and inherently self destructive society. Structures were not built to reflect the comfort and gleaned aesthetic of a specific region but instead to create shelter and social commentary on mankind's ability to tear itself apart.

Armed with a dog-eared copy of War and Architecture I was able to keep at arms length the multiple studio precedents adored by my school, the countless pure white boxes which had sauntered onto virgin greenfield sites, overlooking wetlands and lakeshore and still find fury and interest in smuggling social context into various projects, granted never to the scale and audacity of Lebbeus's work.

Still though, I was able to take some solace in realizing that there were designers who felt that the humanity of architecture was as important as the design, that the process itself was the product. It was this that gave me comfort in my darkest hours. Back then when struggling with a presentation and now, when I feel the profession more interested in fame and fortune then the art. While some may argue that the greatest goal architects aspire to is noble in that they grant inspiration to humanity I would counter that if the work is built, then it has failed to cause us to question our limitations and has become accepted. Even in the shadows of Gaudi's Sagrada Familia which began construction in 1882 and is yet to this day an unfinished masterpiece, an unwavering tribute to the love of design and creation beyond the grasp of mere men, we build larger and bigger but continue to create from this vast wealth the terrible endeavors which constantly destroy us. Architects have become marketing ploys and tools, brand names to garner false legitimacy to pet projects of false idols looking for some sort of permanent recognition. Our dreams have become complacent when we happily sit and beg for the table scraps instead of furrowing our own fields.

I miss the wonder and awe I had when my hands clutched my first Lebbeus pamphlet, when my eyes grew wide at the colors and schemes of Archigram, when I struggled to contemplate the love of humanity that Superstudio envisioned. Today our dreamers work small in the dark corners, attempting to harness the raw power of the forgotten, the ravaged, the meek. To give them their empowerment on a scale manageable by small teams looking to go out and solve the ills that they can, realizing that the system is broken, that it has failed and that if the profession were left to its own devices we would sell ourselves out of our jobs.

New York Times writes the article that spurs these memories