Lost
I feel like I am wandering around in a fog. I don’t know where I am, I don’t know where I’m going, and for the last few months, I can’t really recall where I’ve been.
I feel like I am wandering around in a fog. I don’t know where I am, I don’t know where I’m going, and for the last few months, I can’t really recall where I’ve been.
Rather than focusing on the aspects of architecture that I can put my heart into, I should focus on finding ways to put my heart into everything I do.
I need a home that achieves its feel, commodity and delight not through surface details, but through fundamental principles: good proportions, ordinariness and light. That’s all my home needs to be.
Five years in a design program, however, at a sufficiently respectable design school will bleed most of the color out of this person’s palette and leave them crushed and vulnerable enough to fully engage the profession.
I cannot legitimately want or hope for anything from architecture except quality. I have my prejudices, my yearnings and inclinations, but I recognize them only as that, and criticize them as that. And yet I assume I am to keep these them from interfering in the quality.
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