Over time, architects have appeared in hundreds of movies and TV shows—from Paul Newman to Tom Hanks, Michelle Pfeiffer to Sharon Stone, Keanu Reeves to Elliot Page. But this architect trope is rarely integral to the story. With the 2024 film, The Brutalist, we finally have a movie with an architect being an architect. But I raise an eyebrow or two.
It’s not something I usually do—review a book, that is. Critically speaking, I wouldn’t call this a book review. It is more of an architectural observation. Reading and experiencing Mark Z. Danielewski’s 2000 debut novel, House of Leaves, is an encounter through space and time. Yes, a physical phenomenon—much more than simply turning pages.
Please enjoy part 3, excerpts that conclude my podcast with host Josh Cooperman, “The Rhythm of Architecture.” Josh begins, “We’re kind of at this intersection between what is and what is possible. What’s so great about architecture is you can look at something that has been created 75, 100, 500 years ago and find something that is relevant for today. Good ideas transcend time.”
In a world of architectural iteration and imitation—where ideas are too prevalent through the influential forces of media—it is rare to find a project that is the exception to the rule. In Kyoto, Japan, the Garden of Fine Arts is a unique museum simply for one reason: It has no roof.
As a young architect, I didn’t find much mentorship, collaboration or community—nor much support, professionally or personally. Perhaps it was the roaring 80s and sluggish 90s, and the invasive competitive nature of our industry—the egos and ambition. Yes, even an architect of merely 25 years can carry an entitled, though misguided, bulk of arrogance.
Recently, I looked at my cohorts, and simply thought this: We are colleagues, not competitors. Based on this, I founded the Design Roundtable.
Context is discussed often in architecture. A project’s surroundings—whether a fabric of Cape Cod homes, a conglomerate of steel and glass high-rises, or the industrial vibe of a warehouse district—are a critical item on the design agenda. Should the architect mimic this context, use it as a point of departure, or ignore it and stand in protest?
