Tuesday 1.19.10

Writing the Architecture at NBBJ - Photo by Sean Airhart/NBBJ Seattle

At 10am, I arrive at NBBJ & begin to write the architecture. I start at the front door and work my way up to the south wing. The waxy blue paper around the crayon & the white stick itself leave a miniature mural in the crux of my hand—-a mottled blue sky. How lovely. It’s the only contrast I have at times to the concrete all around. Writing with this tool, at this angle, for this length of time, is hard on the forearms. I ice my wrists at night. I’ve started taking Ibuprofen. The rowing along with the writing are saying, let's see now, here is a muscle. Have you ever written a 7 hour letter? It calls for a nice long bath.

My Architect

I watched My Architect before going to bed–-a wonderful portrait of Louis Kahn and a significant self-crucifixion by his son. In 3 distinct places, I see how it fails because of the son’s pride & need & closeness to his subject, but I was glad for the time with architects who knew Lou and were able to talk to his character, for the people who praised him & taught his son to quit looking for a father and let him be just a power of the people.
Photo by Sean Airhart/NBBJ Seattle

Little Water - Lake Union

Back in the rowboat again. It begins with a bucket. Bailing. A red bucket. Until there’s less than a quarter cup. It’s good to be back in the boat. Dry & clear, atop the water. What a treasureful time! And what do I see? I see tugs pushing tenders into dry dock. And sleeping boats in rows. And floating cranes. And gulls. My favorite sailboat, red and white, is a pilothouse named “Metaphor.” I ask the same dumb question of it everyday. What’s a metaphor for? I carry on— What’s a petit four for? What’s a semaphore say? Where is Dumdledore’s door? What gives a gramophone tone? I am upon buoy #2 then, a lone old nun, to whom I give leeway and sing: Two is the loneliest number since the number one. I go on and on, sometimes to the number seven, with rations in rowboats and short and long planks. By then I am dockside at the CWB and ready to pound the pavement to NBBJ.

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