What do you think?
Rate this book


Paperback
First published August 20, 2012

A building is not a sentence, which in principle has the ability to match and express a thought closely. It is not linear, like language. Compared to the fluidity of words, a building is atrociously clumsy, but it can be lived and inhabited as books cannot be.
The most obvious facts about architecture are the most misleading ones—that it is solid, fixed, permanent, that it is about the creation of single and singular objects, that it is visual. These are at best half-truths. | To build requires determination, conviction, and finality. A building makes a proposition about the future, which will never exactly match what actually happens. It therefore has to combine its decisiveness with openness to events. | For these reasons architecture is slippery. It is prone to tricks of perception and * of value. For all the labors of architecture, its effects are unstable, its benefits elusive, its risks high. But plays of substance and appearance, and of masonry and life, are also part of its fascination.
Hearing other people’s dreams is usually boring; living inside them is more so, and imposing them is a notorious vice of architects.
Of course, all buildings exist in time. The word “building” suggests an action that is ongoing, rather than a finished thing. We don’t talk about “builts.” The question is whether time is used to emancipate architecture, or if architecture is used to suppress time.