Final Review Week

By far the most important and most painful week that architecture students must endure. And I mean physical pain for most. And this was by far the most intense I've personally experienced. Let me just run down what my week looked like beginning with my return from Thanksgiving break last Sunday.

Hours in studio:
Sunday: 3PM to 3AM (and this was an hour after I got back from the airport and with a mild fever)
Monday: took a sort of pre-break that (in hind-sight) I should have appreciated more
Tuesday: 3PM (after 4 hours of class) to 2PM the next day
Wednesday: 4PM to 8AM the next day
Thursday: 3PM to 2AM
Friday: 12:30PM to 1PM the next day
Saturday: 2PM to 11:AM the next morning
Sunday: 11AM to 5PM reviews!
Total hours in studio (not including the class I had in the same building): 107.5 hours

Hours slept:
Sunday: 4AM to 8:30AM
Monday: 12:30AM to 10:30AM (followed by lots of guilt)
Tuesday: --
Wednesday: nap from 3PM to 4PM
Thursday: 3:30AM to 10:30AM (followed by even more guilt)
Friday: --
Saturday: nap in studio from 7:30AM to 9AM
Sunday: slept at 7:30 PM
Total hours of sleep: 23 hours

I actually slept a lot in terms of hours, but the spans of time I went without sleeping were more than I thought I could do without either crashing completely or going insane. And that sort of scared me.

But as intense as this week was, it always comes with a bittersweet ending. I'm glad that I am done with the semester and the inevitable sleepless nights, but I know that after the post-review relief wears off, I will miss it. Despite all my griping and complaints, I feel at my most basic and content states when I am in studio. The frequent stress and bouts of uncertainty are countered by feelings of comfort and familiarity, a familiarity that allows me to drop all pretense and focus on what it is that I want and need to do. After all, my studio-mates have seen me completely unguarded, hair (and emotions) a mess, in the same outfit I wore the day before. They are more than just my classmates, they are my friends. In the simplest sense, they are my friends. While we may not have common interests or similar tastes, I am consistently at ease when I am with them. Of course, I often long to return home to my roommates at night and spend a Saturday evening with my friends, but (at the risk of sounding trite and disgustingly mellow-dramatic) studio is one of the only places I feel like I really belong.

I can't quite explain what it is, or whether it's a figment of my own delirium, but there's a sort of unspoken bond created between studio-mates that can't be easily understood by those who haven't experienced the struggles first hand. It's more than just a community based on a common class or a shared knowledge of specific subject; rather, it is based on a common goal and an understanding of what is needed to achieve it. You need to love what you do in order to do it. Or at the very least have strong feelings for it. Studio becomes your life, no matter how hard you try to hold on to the few remains of your past freedom. We become defined by our absence from the "real" world. But we all go through it. All of us have roommates who wonder if we're coming home at night and friends we've hardly spoken to all semester. Relationship activities become limited to sleeping over after a long night in Wurster, or, for the lucky ones, a quick visit accompanied by a take out dinner and a cup of coffee.

But I consider myself lucky to have more or less randomly applied for architecture on my college application only to find that I really do love it. I can't imagine myself investing 65 sleepless hours into writing an essay or reading a book (not to mention that such tasks have become foreign to the point of impossible). That's not to say that I haven't had my moments of doubt and complete apathy. I spent a good chunk of the semester in an uninspired slump, producing sub-par work just to meet the basic requirements of my instructor. I got to a point where I just wanted to finish the class because I had to, and it was far too late in my college career to consider changing majors (not that there was even anything else in particular that I wanted to do more). I lacked the drive, and more importantly, the desire to really engulf myself in my designs.

Upon entering 100A, I had high hopes of falling in love with my work. With the 5 projects in 11B, it was almost impossible, due simply to time, to become really attached to one design. While I favored some over the others, I was not inclined to give them any thought after my review. But 100A was going to be different. One project over the course of 11 weeks. One project that I could funnel all my ideas, effort and time into. I really was excited. But a few weeks into the semester I convinced myself that I just couldn't cut it. My concepts and designs were mediocre at best, and I knew it was more than just low self-esteem talking. I didn't love my work the way I wanted to, and it discouraged me to a point where a decent grade was my only goal.

But then I remembered a lecture from one of my other (non-studio) architecture classes earlier in the semester. The professor drew up a list of 9 attributes of good design, and the last among them was simply "fun." Not that the building itself be fun for its inhabitants, but that the designer have fun while designing. To my understanding, if the designer is frustrated and feeling hopeless, then the design just is not right. It is not necessarily an indication of his (or her) lack of skill or skewed aesthetic. It is just a rut. And a rut was what I was in. After realizing that what I had was not working, I switched directions. And I got to a place where I was content. And I was having fun. And sure, I still ran into problems and spent many a night in a frenzy of frustration, which were only made worse by my constant lack of sleep. But I know now that, with a little patience and a lot of coffee, I could work through it. Brilliant design epiphanies are rare, and seldom can we do anything to prompt them. We just need to keep working with what we have, and realize that when that isn't working, to just take a step back and re-examine.

So, to sum up this unintentionally long entry, studio really is not all that bad. I am really grateful that I stumbled upon something that I enjoy for the most part, because I don't enjoy much. I have few hobbies, and even fewer talents. And, right now, my next studio class is really all I have look forward to. Sure, my optimistic view is due in part to the positive feedback I received during my review (which I will get to later). And, while the finish line of any studio class is that single five-minute, final review, the journey of studio is undoubtedly an adventure of its own. It is a place where 3AM melt-downs are common and 6AM Wicked sing-alongs are acceptable; a place that allows me to feel content, comfortable and unguraded. And with the emotional roller-coaster that is college life, sometimes that's just what I need.

Until next time,
Katharine