by Matt Taylor
August 2000 [link]
program is also why
I never went to collage [link].
It was to lead to a shocking revelation of what that
experience was likely to be like. It can be argued
that I never should have made such an important decision
based on a single experience - it can equally argued
that the perception was accurate: life for me in
a 50s architecture school would have been hell. Fred
Stitt [link] went
through this process, taught at Berkeley and, ultimately,
started SFIA [link] -
where I part-time teach/lecture [link] and
am working on my Master’s Thesis
to redress what he considers to to be repressive
of the architecture schools - then, and still today.
design became my first work completed to
the preliminary level. It was build-able
then and, if done today, it would not be
a disgrace to the landscape.
problem solving process I employed became
a basis of the Taylor Method. I set up
what I did not know then was a primitive
form of a Zwicky Box [link].
the time, I never completely worked out the
floor plan. I revised it later while at Taliesin.
This version of it was done in 2001 when I
redid the drawings which had been lost in the
1971 move. The basic idea of it is that the
3/4 footprint would flip floor-to-floor providing
a two story balcony for each apartment. This,
plus the fact that the park below (that in
a typical subdivision at the time would not
be there) is a short “drop” by
elevator provides an amenity and closeness
to Nature missing
in most cityscapes. The plan, itself is simple
and direct. It is in line with the post WWII
notion of simple modern living. It was, in
fact, 30 Eichler Homes [link] stacked on top
of one another freeing up the landscape that
sprawl was, even then, in the process of obliterating.
|link: Vertical Housing project
had naively expected the reaction at the office to
be different than it was. The project was a good
piece of work and I had put months of evenings and
weekends into it. It was my first serious self-tutoring
in the process of design. It was also my
first work to be taken to the preliminary level [link]
development. I was proud of the effort. The response
at the office was chilling. Almost total silence. Not
even criticism. It was as if it had never happened.
There was no question that the majority of the office
had seen the show. It was clear that I had become “other.” Now,
there was no possibility of fitting in. And I thought
that moving to Texas in the early 50s was a challenge
Maule was a breath of fresh air. We became friends.
He was in the process of setting up his own office
and I helped him with moving, painting and some simple
drafting tasks when I had the time. His support,
energy and teaching was important to me - a lifeline
of sorts. Sadly, I was to lose his friendship, not
too many years later,
when I took work in construction [link].
He said “you have gone over to the enemy.” How
could BUILDING be the enemy of ARCHITECTURE?
broadcast of the TV show was shot live. It was a
wild evening and perhaps the most fun I had ever
had in my brief life to this date. Tallie was a great
facilitator and the presentation of the concept was
The story of the show is told in my “history” [link].
No sooner had the program finished and the phone
started ringing. The program producers said that
they had never had anything approaching this level
of response. The Boy Scouts later re shot the program
- it was not taped the first time [!] - as a training
program on how to do the merit badge program! The
reshooting was not as good, of course - the spontenaiety
of the first take could never be recaptured. Of the
many calls, there were two that bear noting: The
the Real Estate Lady.
Professor, who called first, taught at Berkeley.
He was very excited. He would have been one of my
professors had I gone there. He asked for an appointment
the project. We made an appointment for diner the
next week. At the appointed hour he showed up at
my Mother’s and my apartment; I opened the
door. From the entry it was possible to see into
and the huge drafting board, that Lloyd Conrich had
given me, to the Bay Window beyond that looked into
the Pan Handle of Golden Gate Park (where the project
had been conceived). It was a nice setting and the
Model and drawings of
were “placed” between the drafting board and
the window. The Professor, with barely a “hello,”
shot by me and skidded to a halt in front of the
model - “you did it” he exclaimed; “I
have been working on this problem for years and
you did it!” This was
not exactly what I was expecting. Besides, I could
not tell if he was happy that “I did it” -
or not. We then entered a tense conversation about
exactly was that I had “did.” The Professor
explained, in great detail, the architectural problems
at hand and I showed him my (Zwicky)
MATRIX. His problems - all of them - were
in it. The matrix listed all the attributes I wanted
and all the ones I wanted eliminated. The net
out was the program for the design - simple. “Where
did you learn this?” he asked. “I made
it up.” Silence.
At this point, the interview went South. Diner was
a long harangue on the Professor’s part about
the miserable state of architecture (I agreed with
why compromise was inevitable (due to the unrelenting
march of Capitalism?) and why Frank Lloyd Wright
and was getting all of the good commissions and not
leaving opportunity to the new generation of architects
(I never did grasp the full logic of this position).
We stopped by Tallie’s office after diner -
my thinking was that this might get the conversation
track. No avail. It was like something had switched
the good Professor’s mind off and all that
could come out was semi-organized pessimism and self
did not like him; neither did my mother [link];
and I decided that I had somehow gone too far in
my education to waste 5 years in an institution for
the architecturally insane. Tallie offered to send
me to Yale but I declined. By the time I would have
qualified for, gotten into and out of Yale, I had
six years drafting experience and was building, as
a 22 million dollar project in NYC [link].
I could not wait; I had to learn how to build.
I never did find out what happened to the Professor.
Real Estate Lady was a personality of another
sort. She blew into and out of my life like the hurricane
she was. She had come up with this new idea called
multiple listing of real estate and was creating
a system whereby all brokers could see what real
estate was available by type, price and so on. This
was my first exposure to the idea and potential of
information technology. I filed this away and ten
years later it emerged as Cybercon [link: as we may (re) think] . What
she wanted from me was to put my model in the store
of her new office. She felt that what she was creating
was very new (which it was) and that my project -
which she called “science fiction” was
an appropriate symbol and attractor for the front
display of an otherwise dull office environment.
I did not think too much about the science fiction
but liked the idea of my work displayed in the front
window of a busy San Francisco street. I made up
a display with threads running from the models and
printed large enough to read through the window.
The display sat there happily enough for over a year.
When I was ready to go to Taliesin I contacted her
to remove the display for storage. She was happy
with the result and told me several people a day
came in asking
it and then she could explain her multiple listing
concept. Then she dropped the bomb that totally shook
my mind. She said that some months back an investor
came in asking for the developer’s name and
that he wanted a piece of the action. She said that
a school project of some kid and was not a serious
idea. I asked her for the name but she had not
kept it - apparently the investor was not interested
in the multiple listing concept. I asked he why she
did not contact me - surprised that I was upset she
not serious about this are you?” There we stood...
staring at each other in mutual, total disbelief.
at the office, Blackjack was my only defense. The
chief draftsman, whom everybody
feared, ran a poker game at lunch. The whole idea
of it, to me, looked like a way for the Chief to
supplement his wages. He controlled all the assignments
I was sure no one was going to get too good at taking
his money too often. This was nichol, dime and quarter
stuff but a good pot could add up to a sizable mid
haul. I took to watching the noon action. One day,
with lots of winking and elbowing, I was asked if
I wanted to play. Apparently “the kid” was
about to get educated. Also apparently, none of these
had grown up on air force bases in the middle of
fighting a world war. I walked away with a few dollars
that lunch time and I was TOLD to “bring
them back tomorrow.” So... I did. I proceeded
to clean their clock for several weeks in a row.
true to their command, I returned every lunch time
with all their money in a cigar box (converted to
paper as it soon would not hold the change). What
they did not know was I had been watching them for
time. They also did not know I could count cards
and I could pull cards out of the deck, place them
and determine the deal. I cheated. They played a
very simple form of Blackjack with dealer “takes
all” (ties). Once I had the deck and could
the game was rigged. I placed the face cards at the
bottom and when the deck was cut (they always cut
it in the middle) then all the face cards and aces
were on top. The dealer (in this case) me was always
“lucky.” It all exploded one day when
the five and ten dollar bills came out. There was
more money on that table
than I earned in a couple of weeks and it took a
good portion of my cigar box to cover the action.
The challenge was on. I shuffled very carefully.
They wanted the deck to be cut twice but I had anticipated
this. As the cards went
faces as two face cards came up for some and even
a couple of Blackjacks. I looked them right in the
never at my cards, as I turned over my own Blackjack.
I was banned from the game forever and bought myself
a couple of very expensive Frank Lloyd Wright
books with the
loot. How their money was spent seemed to make them
madder than how they had lost it. Never a fan of
ethical relativism, this was the first and only time
I ever cheated in business.
thing to do. Since they were all accusing me of cheating
and trying to figure out how I was doing it, I considered
it a game of skill - of sorts. Was it not common
knowledge, even in the dark ages of the 50s, how
you distracted attention? They could not see what
was going on right in front of their eyes! Poetic.
Chief Draftsman was a big bury guy with a handel
bar mustache, vest and rolled up sleeves with arm
garters. He looked
like he was out of the last Century - a caricature
of the times when drafting rooms were rowdy places.
He prized himself with his physical prowess and was
extremely intimidating. He had a 75% solid 8 x 8
x 16 concrete block tied to a wood handel
which he would hold out at arms length, roll up,
touching the ground) and roll up again. I believe
his record was 15 times up and down. No one in the
office could come near his prowess. It never was
totally clear to me what the utility was but, to
it was a mark of superiority and dominance. After
his big poker defeat, he decided to take the
kid on in
of physical manhood. Since he towered over me he
felt he was safe in this realm. His problem was that
were two things he did not know. The first was that
I worked on a dude ranch [link] in
the summers and was actually in very good shape.
If you ever spent hours moving three wire hay bales
you know what I mean. The second was that will is
greater than muscle if you
of it - which I was. He bet me in front of the drafting
room a large sum of money that I could not match
his record with the concrete block. To my credit,
from the contest several times. He persisted, however,
until it was impossible to ignore the challenge.Well,
again. I had been practicing during afternoon coffee
breaks when the whole troop when out. It was years
to go before I indulged in the pleasures of this
I remained in the drafting room doing my tasks while
the others went out twice a day - this also seemed
to add to my disfavor, again to my surprise. I
thought industry was to be rewarded. I took to practicing
with the concrete block. So one day, I
took him up. Standing on a chair (so the length of
the roll up would be equal) talking all the while
on the philosophy of architecture (a subject he despised),
my arms were burning), I exceeded his record by one
and bought myself some more Frank Lloyd Wright books.
I had found out that if I went very fast the total time was reduced and this
kept me within my endurance limits. The poor man
never figured out how a skinny little runt
sorry. The man was devastated and I actually felt
sorry for him and avoided such kind of confrontations
in the future as much as possible. It is not ethical,
lacking a true compelling reason, to take something
away from a person if you are not in the position
replacement. This principle lives to this day in
Chief draftsman finally did figure out how to get
back at me and in a most humorous and imaginative
way. I told him one day that I had an interview with
Frank Lloyd Wright (who was in town on the Marin
County project) and that I had to leave the office
a bit before noon to get to the appointment on time.
Aaron Greene had told me that my time window was narrow
and not to be late and waste the great man’s
time. Well, needless to say, the project I was working
to be accomplished
before noon. It required about three days of work.
I drew furiously all morning to compete the drawings
they could go to the printer. I was wired - pressed
between two mandates with no forgiveness. At precisely
noon. just as I was drawing the last line,
the Chief threw
a large fire cracker under my desk. I nearly went
through the roof! Everybody was in on it and we all
had a good laugh as I ran out the door, now 15 minutes
late, with drawings under arm to meet Mr. Wright.
This interview, is another story. I had learned enough
by this time to let him “win” this one and our last
months together were marked by a greater ease.
you think from this narrative that I won most of
the battles, I did not. In reality, I won none of
them. They were of the kind that to “win” is still
to lose. Many times I bravely retreated to the rest
room holding tears
expressed in a room full of men. The few who tried
to help me did so on the sly - they coached me on
ways to get along better. I was too young to know
how to take their council and apply it with integrity
and there was no defeating the overwhelming consensus
- at least
in the Drafting Room. It was different on the first
floor, the domain of management and clients. I actually
was offered some sponsorship from there.
was the chief architect and a young protege of Becket
himself. He had hired me and, his duty dispatched
to Lloyd Conrich who found me the job, sent me off
the netherlands of the drafting room to survive if
I could. In these days I still occasionally went
down to PAMA to spend the weekends with the Major
and Howard [link].
While down there, one Fall,
there was a fire at the Stanford Shopping Center.
an early pioneer of the modern shopping center and
had designed the Stanford complex. Since one of my
duties had been to clean up the archives in the basement
Draftsman having banished me to this dark, dusty
hole in the ground (this was a Gold Rush era building
on Maiden Lane) for a month for some long
forgotten indiscretion - I
there. The building had been done by the Los Angles
office before the San Francisco office was established.
It is unlikely that anyone now knew if they existed
let alone where they were. The next Monday, I went
work early and found the drawings. Subsequently,
I received a call to report to Nick and,
what he was after, took the drawings to his office.
surprised at this
management and decided I had a genius for organization.
I was surprised that he was surprised. This is hard?
A fire at a major retail center just before the Christmas
season. People will be in a panic - they will expect their
drawings - and now, not a week later - or
worse, “they have to be redone.”
with my urging, took the drawings down to Palo Alto
that morning on the next commuter train. The client
was astounded (remember, this was the 1950s) - Nick
The Practice was proud. He decided to check up on
my progress in the firm.
of my duties, as the most junior of junior draftsman,
was to take care of the drafting supplies, the drawings
organization and the process for getting prints made.
When I was hired there was no system for doing this.
I set up a supply area and kept it stocked, redid
the drawing files and gave them a regular nomenclature;
and, I set up a print desk and procedure. In addition,
I found out what the different architects liked and
made sure that their preferred supplies were on hand.
I would come in early each day and check their drawing
boards and restock them so they did not often have
to go to the supply cabinet even as organized as
it now was. This little service was greatly appreciated.
To me it was simple. I was told to make sure that
none of the 50 architects and draftsman were ever
out of supplies - so I did just that. Given my prior
experiences working on the ranch and stocking for
7 day wilderness trips for up to 30 people, this
was a piece of cake [link].
When Nick asked about my performance he was given
marks on my organizing ability. This and the Stanford
experience convinced him that I could be his protege.
He called me into his office.
are three kinds of Architects,” he explained. “Those
that have their own firms, or a major position in
a large commercial office, and therefore work
with the clients, make the money and run things -
they never designed.” “There
were the designers, who were all prima donnas
and necessary, but to be kept
under lock and key as much as possible.” Then, “there
were the drones that did not matter and are interchangeable
- they did the drawings.” “Sometimes,
rarely, one moved up from the drafting room.” “I
had to decide”
he said, “which career path I would choose.” And,
it seemed, I had to do it now. “Clearly,” he
said, I was not to be a designer, “because
you are too organized and they, being artists,
never are organized.” “And
clearly, I was too intelligent to be stuck in a drafting
He said that I could come to work for him, that he
was planning to establish his own firm soon and that
I would be assured a career. I protested that I had
always wanted to design and build buildings. “This
is not your talent,” he said. So I was offered
patronage and mentorship. An office on the first
to his, lessons on how to act, how to dress, be with
clients and, of course, a substantial raise. Still,
I protested. Nick
said that he would send me to THE DESIGNER and
he would explain it to me and that I would come back
This is how, at the tender age of 19, I was allowed
into the inner sanctum to see how modern buildings
were designed. What you are about to read, you will
not believe. It is a true telling undiluted by time.
The Office had just received a commission for a very
large commercial building, at the time slated to
be one of the tallest in San Francisco. THE DESIGNER,
with the backing of Nick, had invited me to his office
(next to Nick’s) to WATCH as he designed
the building. I was to come at 3 pm. I was elated.
Here was a chance to learn. I called home saying
that I was most likely be late because a major commission
like this was bound to take time. Full of expectation,
I showed up at the appointed hour.
Becket office was a “buttoned down” environment.
This was serious corporate architecture and it was
the 50s. We all wore suits and ties even in the drafting
room. Coats were allowed off only at our desks and
not when (rarely) clients were present on the second floor.
These rules did not pertain to THE DESIGNER -
he was an artist. I could tell this because
he wore open collared flamboyant shirts (never a
coat!) baggy, wrinkled pants and sandals. Sandals!
Sometimes the shirts did not change for several days.
His hair was wild and only approximated the location
which was the top of his head. Head, hands and hair
were prone to sweeping gesture.
was told to sit and watch and not to talk. “My thought
process is not to be disturbed but I will talk out
loud so that you can follow my reasoning.” I agreed
to these terms.
large scale plot of the property was pulled out and
taped to the board. “The code allows so much
of the ground to be covered with these setback requirements.”
A rectangle was drawn - the building shape and location
was determined (!). “The client’s program
requires this amount of floor plan footage and deducting
for hallways, restrooms, elevators and storage, this
requires 33 floors which is within the legal height
limit.” The plot plan was quickly finished:
service road, parking egress (with calculation for
underground floors) and “of course a fountain
and landscape area.” A new piece of tracing
paper was taped over the drawing and an elevation
times 10 feet height times 33 stories) drawn. “This
will be a steel framed building, so the columns will
33 feet on center” quickly divided by the actual
rectangle netted the appropriate module. “now,
the real fun begins.” My imagination ran ahead
- OK, we have the basic box now we can play with
back, jogs, cantilevers, openings... “the real
trick here is getting the right articulation of the
and spandrels.” A fast set of further overlays
with different combinations of opening and glass
(from the handy box at the edge of the board; “yes,
here we are, this will do quite nicely.” The
elevation was quickly finished: delicate lines for
heavier one to “express” the structural
columns behind, a touch of color for the glass windows
more opaque rendering for the spandrel panels (Mondrian
have been proud), clouds, trees, fountain and people
at the baser and “we
have to have a boy with a balloon, this is my signature
- adds gaiety.” “There! “We are
you can do it in an hour, you are ready for the big
glanced at the clock: 59 minutes. “That’s it?” “That’s
it.” “What about the interiors?” “The staff will
work that out, I gave them the best module to fit
offices in to - that’s routine, I do the creative
stuff.” “The mechanicals and...” “Is for the engineers.”
I was in the process of watching this upstairs as
the Kaiser building was being tugged and pulled and
mutilated as the engineers, interior people and code
folks fought over every square inch tuning a once
clean plan into a maize - months and month of redrawing
“What happens now?” I splash a little more color
and ink on it in the morning and get it mounted.
The client comes at 10:00 am.” “That’s 2% of several million dollars you’re
looking at, boy!”
did not sleep that night. I asked myself a question
that I did not face up to for a couple of more years
You see, the Becket firm was not some rinky dink
practice from the other side of the tracks - they
were considered to be the best commercial firm in
the world with only one or two challengers such
as SOM. This was as good as it got and as good as
was going to get for a long time. That building is
still standing in San Francisco, today, and not one
of mine is. My apartment building never made it past
a fake Boy Scout Merit Badge show and a real estate
office’s store front window. “You are
not serious about this are you?” “When
you can do it in an hour,
you are ready for the big time.”
asked me the next day if I understood now why
I was not cut out to be a designer. I told him yes
do not want to have anything to do with it.” Nick
was pleased until: “as a matter of fact, I
do not want to have anything to do with any of it;
will never lead to ARCHITECTURE.” I
was banished back to the drafting room, ungrateful
that I was. They were not happy to have me back.
It seems that I had committed some kind of sin that
somehow reflected on them all. I started looking
for an office where I could get the experience of
drawing an entire building - end-to-end - myself.
This is another story.
is many years gone since I walked into
that office. And what is my assessment? A great deal
has changed - and, so little. There is a part of
me that has never left the foot of the those stairs.
There is a part of me who has traveled many miles,
and it seems centuries, since then. The Fire and
Passion is unabated.
the pull I feel to Architecture is just as great
as when I started. Much of the innocence is gone
and I do not know if this is good - or bad. When
I design, the joy comes back as does the sense of
an unlimited future.
in general, feels very
different now. I am not sure what this means. It
seems natural that ones perspective should change
as life is experienced and as one grows physically
However, when I mentally return to these younger memories,
I sense a loss. Is it the innocence? if so, why does
this matter so much? Is it some other quality? If
so, what is that quality? What is missing?
I do not feel that I, personally, have lost something
- it seems more like society has. One thing is sure,
those years can never be relived and
what is lost from them can never be retrieved.
They could have been so different - the last half
century could have been so different. Will it
be seen as the greatest squandering of opportunity
all time? Think of the world we could have built.
years, the practice of architecture seemed as remote
and still close to me as it was that day standing
in the sun looking at that door. I sometimes wondered
to start. The
quality that I seek, with architecture, sometimes
seemed more absent in my life, as time progressed,
than in the beginning. Today, I spend
days in environments [link] I
have created and like very much. But, as worthy as
this work is, it is not what I set out to do.
am slowly getting to the point where I can build for
for Gail [link],
for our company [link],
as well as, some R&D projects [link].
These are small but important gestures - and, they
lead somewhere [link].
These are thoughtful and authentic works and they
will not be done in an hour; they are a beginning...
the core of it - still - none of this experience
makes sense to me. I simply cannot comprehend why the quality of
the built environment is even a question, let alone,
an issue. In
this regard I guess I havent changed at all.
I want to be clear about this. I have learned to
engage in the debate about architectural quality
and how to achieve some measure of it, but, I fundamentally believe I
am engaging in a dialog that makes no sense. A dialog
that no rational society would ever undertake.
the United States, the vast majority of constructed
buildings have been erected since I entered practice.
I have not not built one of them totally from my
own design. To me, this is a measure of my failure.
The profession has changed. Offices seem more liberal,
fun. They are much more diligent in the design process
than my earlier experience. It is still a mostly
closed club. Whenever we get even a small commission
in one of their territories we are attacked like
a foreign virus [link].
Fundamentally, I have not found the key to the door
and the game remains mostly
rigged. Again, the condition - not the problem. Important
work is won my inside trading with rare exception.
A new way of building is required [link].
and many who do organic work are now
becoming accepted in ways that would both scandalize
and amuse him - and perhaps, please him from time
arguments about integrity would not take place in
the same way, today, and this is both good and bad.
because there is greater tolerance for viewpoints
- bad because no one seems to care that much one
way or another. It has become a non issue. There
is less dogma - and almost no philosophy. One seems
with the other. There is a great deal more good work
and, still, few truly great pieces. “Star architects”
come and go with the seasons and grandiose works
replace pieces of serious quality. How will this
in 50 or a 100 years?
dream-killers are much more sophisticated now. The
society is many times more open - innovation is now
sought. But, I wonder if this really represents a
change. It seems that utilitarianism
still rules. Businesses are innovative now because
to survive in a competitive world just as they
demanded conformity a generation ago to survive in
a relatively non-competitive environment.
Innovation, the new conformity. Is this truly different?
Does this translate to authentic [link] art
- or authentic anything?
architecture, “innovation” too often means outrageous
or merely flamboyant gestures. Postmodernism. Deconstructionism
- ism this and ism that.
should not brag - they are the background music
of life not the feature film.
of these distinctions are easy to sort out and it
may not even be necessary - or possible. Perhaps,
it is the act of asking (and from time to
time, re asking) the questions that is important.
I started this piece, in 1998, at a low point in
business of our enterprise. This autobiographical
part of my web site has been an exercise to “find”
sense in this lifetime of seeking a new architecture
a way of working and a self aware life.
I am “finishing” this piece, the work
is re surging. But surely, the
ups and downs of the market should not bias the
assessment of a lifetime strategy. Nevertheless,
there seems to be two “voices” as I reread
this - one, a bit pessimistic, the other more optimistic.
is consistent with where I was in 2000 -
and, there are questions I would ask
Wright, Bucky, Bruce
Ayn Rand, given the chance [link].
I am more satisfied today, not because “business”
is better - it is - but because I have
progressed with the task of defining my philosophy,
it [link] and
objectifying it more clearly
in the work that we do have. Intellectually, I
resist success or failure being defined by social
acceptance and financial accomplishment. I think
both are fine and nice to have - when legitimately
earned - but not something to judge a life on or
to seek as an
I never grew up and I dont intend to as I remain
an unrepentant idealist [link] -
some people never learn. I have yet to establish
an independent practice of architecture, as I set
out to do, but somehow
in the wake
of what we have done at MG Taylor, is a surprising
amount of quality architecture - and now, Taylor
Architecture is an active division of the corporation.
architectural practice back to
design/build and forward to design/build/use
Major design firms and furniture firms are seeking
us out because of this scope of process-product
integration. Today, it is getting impossible
to trace the
we have had throughout several once disconnected
professions and “industries.”
the drafting rooms
and my predictions were true in different
ways. I have not built nor practiced architecture
as I intended - yet, my work is impacting many
of the large commercial organizations and design
the descendants of those who predicted my failure.
Despite what I said to Nick and Major Nichols [link],
I ended up building a business - something I never
started out to do and that Nick said was my major
talent (although I still disagree with his assessment).
The Major wanted me to run a school and a great deal
today is educational
and a large portion of our work is for educational
institutions. Had I accepted Nick’s offer what
would have been the consequence? had I accepted the
I would have faced life and work as a rich man and
could have pursued my art as a hobby (as he put it).
As it is, my first works are likely to be self
financed - is this what the Major was trying to say?
It is interesting to note that that the first building
of my design to be build (unsupervised and altered)
was for him. Would either of these two paths been
I took? Or, would they have been a disaster - or,
made no difference at all? Fred Stitt thinks my major
contribution will be made with students
of architecture and that may be true - I find myself
drawn to SFIA more as time goes on. How was a young
man to sort these things out? How would you have
advised him? How would I, today, talking to a your
idealist full of passion and some growing talent?
How can we help young people with practical advice
yet stay clear of their right to shape their own
still stands at the core of what I do even as I have
changed my sense (Design, Build, Use) of architectural
practice [link] and,
consequently, work far differently - employing team
design and collaboration - than I anticipated
integrator [link] of
a Design, Build, Use [link] ValueWeb [link] grew
out of the boy who stood at the foot of the stair
full of naivety and dreams. And, there is great congruence
between the beginning and the “end.”
an unchanging youth
is to reach at the end
the vision with which one started
have to stand someplace
may never build
PROMISE is yours to keep
may come out different than you expect
to everybody - follow your own dream
is heuristic, stupid
pain does not matter - nor is it noble
to the dream, the essence of the VISION,
and let the specifics recreate [link] themselves
confuse philosophy with life
To The Second Decade
Apartment Tower Project
June 15, 1998
voice of this document:
VISION STRATEGY EVALUATE
January 1, 1999
July 6, 2005
• 20050703.456701.mt • 20050705.764210.mt •
• 20050706.656540.mt •
this document is about 98% finished
Taylor 1979, 2000, 2001, 2005