I couldn\u2019t resist. I\u2019ve been away too long or I was bored. Maybe it\u2019s just in my nature. I don\u2019t usually do this kind of thing, but today, something in me just snapped. I\u2019ve let myself down.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m on an Aldo Rossi architecture tour. I\u2019m not even sorry.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s still a chip on my shoulder that some architecture students went on inexplicably well-funded pilgrimages to Corbusian monasteries, Aalto sanatoriums, crumbling Frank Lloyd Wright houses and Sizian pavilions while I worked a grim summer desk job on the outskirts of a Russell Group town. I envied their freedom, their knowledge of obscure palazzos and their ability to \u2018just take a taxi\u2019 out of any sticky situation. But now I find myself in the most mid of middle positions \u2013 neither encumbered by the temptations of a magnificent hotel stay nor incited by the indignities of an underpaid position. Plus, I have time.<\/p>\n
The tour advertises itself as a day-long, architect-led trip to the \u2018big five\u2019 edifices of this Postmodern genius\/psychopath, manifesting his world view through the explicit use of colour and pre-religious geometric forms. Fifteen minutes into the drive, our guide spins in his seat and asks \u2018so who knows architecture?\u2019 Some kid at the back announces that he\u2019s going to study it next year because the \u2018expression of form\u2019 has \u2018always intrigued him\u2019. I\u00a0resist the urge to roll my eyes, then remember I\u2019m wearing sunglasses, and indulge. I am on holiday after all.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m in two minds about outing myself on tours like this. On the one hand, I feel our guide has a right to know he\u2019s in the presence of another professional bullshitter. On the other hand, I don\u2019t want to be dragged into commentary on buildings I know little about beyond the textbook basics. It feels like an admission of ignorance, although I\u2019m personally quite happy to acknowledge that mid-century Italian iconoclasm isn\u2019t my fort\u00e9.<\/p>\n
The decision is taken away from me by our host directly lampooning me about what my job is. I feel the Moleskine\/Lamy duo resting on my lap, curse inwardly, then can\u2019t come up with a lie fast enough. Yes, I acknowledge, \u2018I am an architect\u2019. He feigns delight and the girl next to me makes an \u2018ooOOoohh\u2019 noise, perfectly pitched between realisation and pity. \u2018Oh great,\u2019 he says \u2018you can fill in my gaps for me!\u2019 Um, no thanks?<\/p>\n
The first stop gives me an out \u2013 our bro-chitect-to-be has a barrage of questions for our guide. What foundations does it have? Where\u2019s the sewer? How much did the client pay? Our guide smiles and gently jokes that perhaps signore is an engineer at heart? Undeterred, the questions curve towards the esoteric. Why is the roof like that (rain) isn\u2019t this actually Baroque (no) isn\u2019t this really Modernism (NO) do the colours signify anything (no) isn\u2019t this a critique of the upper classes of the time (lol, no) couldn\u2019t you say this is the precursor to the mid-90s Super-Dutch style (no, and stop pretending to understand S,M,L,XL<\/i>. No one does).<\/p>\n
Mid-assault, I wander off to stare absent-mindedly at things I\u2019ve only ever tried to decipher in plan. The reality is gently rewiring my brain. I get it now, or parts of it at least. I experience the thresholds, I feel my gaze directed towards that vista; the grid does indeed highlight my mortality. I am feeling satisfaction in the repetition, the proportion of form to void is both striking and heroic. The unbridled, arrogant dominance of the design over us tiny humans is \u2026 well, awesome.<\/p>\n
Our guide sidles over to me, and we stare at the point where a terracotta wall meets the sky.<\/p>\n
\u2018So, whaddya think?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018I\u2019m impressed. It\u2019s \u2026 powerful. Mesmerising. Epic. What do you think?\u2019<\/p>\n
Our guide squints at me through the midday sun. \u2018Well, I prefer Portoghesi…\u2019<\/p>\n
My head snaps back round at him. \u2018Pardon?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Only joking, ha, you architects! It\u2019s cool, don\u2019t worry, Rossi\u2019s the best.\u2019<\/p>\n
As he walks away, his laughter bounces off each wall of the quadrangle, simultaneously. Perfect.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I couldn\u2019t resist. I\u2019ve been away too long or I was bored. Maybe it\u2019s just in my nature. I don\u2019t usually do this kind of thing, but today, something in me just snapped. I\u2019ve let myself down. I\u2019m on an Aldo Rossi architecture tour. I\u2019m not even sorry. It\u2019s still a chip on my shoulder …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":17071,"featured_media":698501,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_oasis_is_in_workflow":0,"_oasis_original":0,"ep_exclude_from_search":false},"categories":[745],"tags":[6136,72352,4740],"yoast_head":"\n