Architecture is never an open book. For me being an architect simply means that I depend upon an appreciation and sympathy for this fact. I find architecture to be a difficult profession but it is also my reason for living. My sincere hope is not that architecture should exist to satisfy certain conditions but that conditions should exist to satisfy architecture.
Architecture is a pastime which causes me to fret over the taunts of an insignificant line. It creates the illusions in which I become lost. It is my addiction. The unobstructed and amplified conversation taking place between the lines that casually be filled with the void constantly emphasizing the marketability and potentiality of architecture. this "cubic Croquis" designated addiction is much like taking a waik. Occasionally it becomes a provision for architecture, occasionally a message about daily life and sometimes it throws light on the scope and potential of industry and commerce. It is a madness which prevails upon me without end.
If you have not experienced reading an exciting fantasy into a space recreated by a line iI wholeheartedly suggest you take a good look at "spatial lines." these spatial lines which I have experienced sympathized with this desire ti fill a void that cannot be filled like an infinite virus. these are the lines which, except for the moment's reprieve when the right hand is interrupted briefly enough to allow me a sip of coffee, have accumulated in over 800 different cubic drawings the lines of which have slowly engraved my fingerprints.
The term "cubic Croquis" was taken from an essay in science fiction writer Robert Sheckley's book Space of Sheckley.
which essay touches upon the indecisiveness of architecture.
More than simple willpower has allowed me to draw. Upon close inspection it was unusual circumstances which led me to put down my pen. The wisdom in the act of briefly interrupting my undeviating introspection and consistent focus upon architecture during the past twenty years has allowed me to take up pen again. My sincerest hope is that my drawings evolve on an otherwise blank and humble surface with earnestness. This is the provision I beg of My inability to fill the void created by a poverty of imagination with even 800 drawings is probably a better testament to my sincerity than any. As treasured creations these drawings created line by line are witness to my enduring dependence upon architecture.
Not being able to understand my madness is a fearsome realization. Not only do I recognize this but I have named my addiction : cubic croquis.