Difficult to Swallow

Certain types of conversations can only be had with specific types of characters.

These are the conversations I find the most interesting, especially amongst dear friends of mine with whom I studied architecture. Together, we have come to formulate our opinions on what constitutes good, bad, ugly, and beautiful, as well as the tools needed to represent and confine space, and in what fashion.

After completing my first year of Master's studies abroad and her Master's course locally, both in architecture, we met up and shared our concerns, doubts, and fears about our uncertain future. We have always spoken to each other with brutal honesty. This comfort evidently developed gradually throughout the first shared years at university, as we critiqued each other's academic work and offered each other comforting, revealing advice. We both were and still are clueless as to how exactly architecture can allow us to operate on a level that satisfies our inner conflicts and quenches our thirst for satisfaction. We still long to carry out work we can be proud of, work that forms part of a solution, not to a problem we are still trying to wrap our heads around. This has not been found in the academic work done or the work she has undergone in an architectural office, where she has much more experience.

After formally catching up with each other's endeavours over the past year, the conversation turned to what happens next, and strongly differing attitudes emerged regarding the paths we have taken. I shared an interest in pursuing another master's course as a potential next step in unlocking my path to architectural satisfaction. I quickly found myself defending my thoughts, which I hadn't dwelled upon too much. She challenged me, saying that what we have been taught at university has ill-prepared us for the skillset required for a real-world architect, tackling real-world projects, mimicking the words of a Dutch lecturer I looked up to at my university. I had spoken to him for advice about carrying out a second Master's degree to complement my Master's in architecture. He argued that, despite having followed a similar academic path by obtaining a second Master's degree in Geography, it was only through his work experience that he gained valuable insights into the factors that shape architecture. The words of the late Virgil Abloh come to mind in my case for my friend.

"Who has time to build buildings?". I am confident that I do not want to become your average real-world architect. She did have a point, however, in saying that you shouldn't blindly continue studying in search of finding an occupation, and that taking time to work might shed light on unseen relevant aspects. To this, I argued that an occupation doesn't serve the self and is only a capitalist social construct in the production of more problems. We both heavily critique our profession for being responsible for these problems. I feel like I am pulling at strings, and am frustrated at my weak, ignorant response. I further pointed out that, at this point in life, we should be taking high-risk opportunities, never seeking comfort. This was further affirmed through my accumulated years of interning at architectural offices. I would be tasked with doing the most tedious, repetitive work, which has a near-zero impact on the built environment and on more urgent problems. Sure, the first time I learned to do a BoQ or a tile layout for another 14-storey reinforced concrete hotel building, I was happy to do it, yet my mind wandered into what I could be doing if I weren't confined to this office and my bosses' overlooking gaze. I find peace in not being knowledgeable about tasks I have never been exposed to. It is at these moments that I am struck by the muse to create personal projects that mean something to the general public and have an impact on the built environment scene locally. That said, this is harder said than done, and I have been attempting to do so in my free time. We concluded by acknowledging that we didn't know the right path to success and had no idea what success looked like. Yet, the only certainty is that we both kept going. The only certainty I have is that through hard work and dedication, something will happen; otherwise, what is the point of working hard? Through self-initiated projects and a drive for the better, I believe that somehow my work, however vague or chaotic, will present itself to the right environment at the right time. Working in the dark is only part of the process.