It's been a while since I posted anything on here but I thought I'd update this blog and try to get it going again, just over a year ago I was nominated for the RIBA presidents Silver Medal and here is the work below ( you can see the full entry by clicking here)
Coughing and spluttering I awoke, the view over the Thames towards Canary Wharf did little to distract from the stench of resin that filled the studio. As I watched the ships sail past below I picked at the glue covering my fingers, freeing them for another day of making, if Wyllie was still alive, the smell of paint not resin that would fill the air, he would have been enthralled up here above the Thames.
I was only at the beginning of my time at the Institute of Making, a new head and the prospect of a new school of architecture meant my time on the banks of the Thames were ending. The institute was relocating, downriver on the banks of the Medway. All that was there was rumoured to be a 16th century fort, it’s bricks strewn across the site. Bright red in colour I became obsessed with accumulating them, assimilating them, I wouldn’t rest until they were all contained in one place.
I crossed the walkway to the tower rising above the trees. Met by the seemingly pleasant BOB organising the bricks within the tower, I descended to the banks of the Medway. A new site, a new head, meant a new ethos, students were busily creating their own studios, only a
working dry dock given to them as their place to make.
I sat on the end of the jetty, reminiscing over a chance meeting with Zumthor, regretting not to disclosing to him the architectural graffiti I left upon his Kolumba Museum whilst in Cologne. I looked back across the dry docks smoke, fire, noise, burning, sparks flying, happy to be in a world of making.
