My tutor slowly rotated my cardboard model at squinty specs level and pursed his lips slightly. I sat next to him, trying to stop the shakes from too much coffee, waiting for the axe to fall.
‘Josh!’ he called, over my head, to the tutor he shared his large, white painted and thoroughly nonchalant office, sorry! studio, with. Both of them peered at my model, making little noises like ‘Hm’ and ‘Mmf’. I needed the loo, but stayed put, fiddling with my watch strap. Finally, my tutor put the model on the desk, and turned to me, raising his eyebrows. Josh immediately picked it up again, and balanced it on one hand whilst clasping his jaw pensively with the other.
‘Well,’ said my tutor ‘The interior is wonderful, with those curved perforated vanes dropping down through the space. Josh?’
‘Mmmff’ said Josh, adjusting his specs. ‘mmmmmmm - Lose the top, and we’re there’.
‘Yes’ said my tutor. ‘The exterior… didn’t we discuss the outer extrusion when we last met?’
‘Er-‘ I said, shakily, drawing breath for the first time in about five minutes, ‘you told me to put something on top to finish it.’
I had just spent about a week, including the bank holiday, reworking the thing to include the ‘upper massing’ my tutor wanted.
‘Well, I don’t think it works’ said my tutor. ‘Josh?’ I had visions of popping him out of the open window, four storeys up, behind us, but satisfied myself with a Paddington stare.
‘Mmm hmmm’ said Josh, putting the model down.
‘There’ said my tutor. ‘He agrees. I’ll see you next week.’
I stuffed the model back into the box, with a resignation born of many, many hours spent changing the design and changing it back again. Keep your eye on the ball, Alice.
The Glory of the Ordinary - a look at many of the little gems of the English Archi-scape
The Guv tells it like it is
Only sleeping - but we hope he wakes up soon...
Who Links Here
About Me
- Alice
- I am a registered architect and a member of the Royal Institute of British Architects, which also stands for Remember I'm the Bloody Architect. I practice somewhere out in the sticks, living off the bottom of the architectural pond, on tiny loo extensions with the occasional biggy if I'm lucky. Architects in general aren't a respected profession, like a doctor or a vet, even though the training is seven years or more. I think its because a lot of them are either so arrogant they can't be bothered to explain, or they are self effacing to the extent of being invisible. There are a lot of DIY idiots out there who call themselves 'architects' but they're not, and give us solid gold, true to the core architects a bad name. That's enough about me.
Copyscape
4 comments:
I'm still slightly confused. I am glad that here is nothing sinister or drastically disappointing going on, also that you do not look like the twins. Those bins........argh.
'Hm & mmf' sounds unpleasant or illegal so we won't go there.
I am curious about outer extrusion
which also seems like something sinister and what sort of 'upper massing' does your tutor want exactly ?
The four story window I like. You're getting back on form again,well done.
WEB - I am pleased to say I look not quite, but almost totally unlike the 'twins'. If anything is going to put someone off going to an architect, it's the photo of those two.
In a backwards sort of way, it reminds me of a post I made to a pianotech group recommending carrying plastic 'ziplock' bags in their tool kits.
A client once offered a slice of homemade pumpkin pie as I was finishing some work on her piano. I love pumpkin pie. The client arrived back in the room with an enormous piece, then (thankfully) went back to whatever she was doing in another room. It was the most vile pie I had ever tasted! After that first disgusting mouthful, I quickly emptied a plastic bag containing bits of wool and felt and dumped the remaining pie into the bag, then zipped up my tool case (bagged pie inside), collected my pay and left. All the while hoping that the plastic bag didn't rupture.
Oh drat, that comment was meant for your previous post.
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