Fold lines, stains, raw edges,
these all add to the patina of the page
The story that has expired
Thrown in the fire in a moment of madness or frustration or fear
An examination of how we live,
the spaces we occupy
Rolled up and unravelling,
our residential realisation
Likening the house plans to a map,
a journey back to that time when everything was easy
The willingness to endure,
knowing it will be worthwhile
We are like unconscious agents in these maps’ operations
Treasure Island, King Solomon’s Mines,
they have a map in the front of the book,
a sign post for the reader to reference
Mindless industrial over production,
a thread of conceit as some forms of housing became unremarkable
The sameness, the repetition, the layers,
mirrors of one another
For me, comfort, security, love
Resistance to autometer,
a paradox that sits alongside my return to nostalgia
Compulsive allegorisation of material,
the need to make sense
Love, loss, beauty
A repetitious process
of giving and taking
An iteration to generate an unbounded sequence
Longing for this loop typology
The last component
connected to the first
If only by a thought
Rhythms, silences, failures
Touch, it is the tenet of my existence,
The desire to be held
Essential to our space
She is slipping from my view
Sandalwood and benzoin bark,
her scent remains
Trapped in the tenet of a tiny room
Each idea a thought
Passed through the rigours of reality
It is formed,
evaluated and tested
Pleats confining a new paradigm
A subversive romanticism
The maker made it this way
Designed to quell the feeling we could forget
Mysterious moments, minutes
turn to months
to be remembered
Memories embedded in a building
Walls with the patina of the past
floors layered with footsteps,
plinth stones and stairs all dipped in the centre,
a slow sign of time
An abyss, black pools in blue eyes
Primal chaos before the calm
Cool steel, dark corridors
Narrow nuance, no escape
It is then that I know
It is impossible to live this way
Without touching one another
A forced closeness, confused by creativity
Intimacy, complicated, calming
It does not exist in isolation,
sitting alongside commitment and separation
The walls and where they join and divide
The tangible and the elusive
Placing what’s most important
in the correct space, the ordering
Knowing when to show restraint
Juries, journalists, judgement
They understand the poetry
Do they see the erudite doubtfulness?
The pervasive happy fear
The need for silence when inviting sensation
That we can be separate together
An incomplete satisfaction
Waiting with breathless anticipation
Happiness, it can be just a moment
The warmth of the winter sun,
cool air on our cheeks,
cold faces pressed together,
the taste of a kiss
Couched in the corridor of contemplation
There is comfort in knowing
The walls within provide protection
For the propagation of sensorial seasons
It will be now as it was then
The sun will still rise in the east and set in the west
The birds will still sing
And this moment in time,
it is neither before nor after
This is what I know of you
The architecture of our lives,
sine qua non
AUTHOR
NICOLE CULLINAN
Nicole has an established career in the architecture and arts industry as a content writer. She has had the privilege of working with a number of prominent Australian creatives and enjoys discovering what it is that makes their work unique. With a passion for place making and the built environment her work days are fun and fulfilling. She is also a published academic author and has a blog that has close to one hundred thousand views per year. She has a side hustle in photography, her images have been featured on the NGV and Heide websites and socials. Recently she had a photo exhibited as part of the Photo 2021 collaboration with French artist JR at Federation Square. She is currently undertaking a research project and believes the architects work can be more than what the eye can see; ‘allegoria dei sensi’. A trinity of function, form and feeling.
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