I’m thrilled to bring this provocative guest post from a fellow architect with strong opinions on how we draw and the importance of traditional methods and tools. Also, if anyone out there with mad cinematographer skills would like to help me make this into a piece for the next AIA Film Challenge, hit me up! We would definitely win.
Greetings! My name is Glorp. It’s quite a culture shock, to say the least, when one is unfrozen and reanimated by a mad scientist some 10,000 years or so after getting iced over during a particularly frosty winter next to a herd of mastodons. As I’m sure you, my fellow architects, are well aware we never truly retire. I wanted to get right back into the swing of things, pick up some new clients, design them a cave of their own, and maybe string together enough projects to get a firm going with some other unfrozen cave people.
I was thankful to quickly find a group of architects who helped me get up to speed with what architecture practice means in the 21st century. You don’t have to worry about me being out of touch or irrelevant — these architects explained that the proper, indeed the dominant, style of today is called “classical” and is based upon design concepts first developed in Europe a couple thousand years ago (boy, am I glad that today’s pace of progress isn’t much faster than it was back at the dawn of the Holocene). They helped me learn the modern, high-tech drawing and drafting techniques of today as well; so I know all about t-squares, vellum, and pencils, all good there.
At this point, I’ve given these pencils and vellum a shot, but they are vastly inferior to the techniques of my time. In fact, this new pencil-on-paper technology really interferes with a caveman architect’s ability to properly design, which is the last thing an architect wants from their tools. Perhaps the nutty clans who designed and built those ugly, new-fangled stick-and-leaf huts may like the precision of these modern tools, but they’re not for us real architects.
With the pencil and vellum, There’s no longer a need to carefully consider one’s next move of the hand because these tools take all of the thought out of that act and you can simply erase if you make a mistake. None of this elevates the architect to the respected position of finest artist in the cave. Since we cave architects didn’t do much else thousands of years ago, where does that leave us!?
Your pencils, with their synthesized graphite encased in precise, machine-honed wood and tipped with rubber to conveniently undo what was just laid down are cold and completely disconnected from my traditional tools. Do you think this stupid graphite is going to stand the test of time like my generation’s work? Hell no! What are you going to do if you erase something only to later realize that you needed it? You can’t get it back now, it’s gone forever! FAIL!
I’ll be continuing to use my clay and stones on cave walls because, unlike today’s high-tech architects, I understand that being an architect is all about design concepts freely flowing through one’s entire body to convey ideas in beautiful cave-drawn form in unison with nature. The clay ochre tipped flint stone comes from Mother Earth, just like me, and is an extension of my body in the creative process. You have no such unity with these damn machine-made pencils so you do not have real architecture, it’s that simple.
I hate to cut this short, but I have someone coming to the cave shortly to help me get all these words on the cave wall into something called the Internet for you to see. Thanks, and please join me in a return to traditional drawing techniques.