What is this?

This is the essence of architecture, revealed to the eye of a gentle donkey. In an unlucky strike - it is all the photographer’s fault - the eye morphs into a glaringly dead pupil reproduced on a cigarette box. But why is this the essence of architecture? Because the architect pulls himself together and makes it pile up. He places layer upon layer, creates a solid column that will carry the building, stand on its own or in a row with other columns. At the same time, he lets go, allows it all to spread out in a stony cataract. The essence of architecture is the sphincter. Contraction and relaxation become almost indistinguishable when a place is inhabited, when a wall exposes itself to the environment that it fabricates and when a photographer presses the camera’s button. Architects forever experience the pleasure and the pain of sitting on a loo and smoking a fag. But why is the essence of architecture revealed to the eye of a donkey? Because the donkey, unburdened and receptive, willing to capture and be captured, crosses the yard with elegance and alacrity. Its image vanishes into the concrete surface of a tiny memorial. Shit happens. The stable collapses. Will the zinc-coated watering can be used for a shower in the golden night?

Alexander García Düttmann