It’s interesting how the people who inhabit a particular building perceive architecture. For instance, finely dressed executives and judges mostly occupy monumental structures, which in some respects are stuffy, snooty buildings that overpower the surrounding area. Diners are typically small, dingy, fluorescent, smoke filled buildings where the late night trucker may stop for a slice of pie. The waitress’s apron hasn’t been washed in weeks, her shoes are covered in grease spots, and her hair net matches the color of her note pad.

Where an executive may not feel ‘safe’ in a corner diner downtown, or a waitress may feel ‘out-of-place’ in an executive’s office, architects tend to be drawn to these spaces. We’re the middle-men. We’re the small breed that can see the beauty in all makes and models of buildings and the people who inhabit them, and actually, thoroughly enjoy these experiences. Maybe it’s just for a bad cup of coffee or the conversations being had amongst the crowd. It’s the experiences that architects look for and aim to aid in a positive way. The architecture almost becomes the background, the curtain behind the play – but it creates the setting. It’s almost like the architecture knows who loves it, “The breath of a building is the sound of the voices inside”[1] and truthfully, we perceive them as exactly that.

[1] Such Places as Memory; Poems 1953 -1996., John Hejduk | Writings Architecture Series

J. Bruce