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#55. ALL SURFACE NO FEELING i wanna touch warm brick
i wanna feel cold stone
hear the haunting of a building groan
the tap of plaster
the bark of wood
the immediacy of texture
the smooth, the rough read the history in walls
some part-time propagandists scrawls
some carefully carved typographical text
the painted print fading on a gables end
the frozen forms of once molten metal
the distant trace of saw and chisel
creatures carved up high way above the level
a rust hammered nail
worn step, the patina of a bronze handrail
reflecting a weathered human face
amidst the creaking shiftings of give and take but there’s no wear and tear
it’s just tear it down
or the surface smiles of those over-clad clowns
the humble brick has been abused
concrete let down
glass too much misused for what has it been for that so many have toiled
continually diggin’ up the earth
it’s sacred surface ritualistically scarred and soiled
for sameness
for tameness
for nothing but plainness
huge sheets
huge voids
stooge aspirations and privatised ventures
filled to the brim with crude overblown gestures
meaning-less materials
abstract units and mysterious modules no variations in the endless details
a landscape full of concealed fixings of styles that refuse to reveal the functions
a set of public places in which you’re no longer welcome
monuments to DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT TRYING TO COME IN! have we lost our minds
well, we’ve lost the art
the capacity of mediating
between expressive statements and public relations
we can’t build fortresses in glass
and expect it’s enough
transparency doesn’t translate into social cohesion or any degree of openness we need material and craft
we need a scale we can trust
that our structures are just shelters with a bit of added flourish
to have any connection to understand
we need to feel that the buildings we build
are formed by the fingertips of many peoples hands