As much as I want to believe in what I wrote following my unexpected final review last semester, I am beginning to think that it was all bullshit. I got lucky. I stumbled into something that happened to work, my "perseverance" was only noted in hindsight in an attempt to embody my new half-glass-full attitude (that was no doubt the result of said review). I wanted so badly to discover passion, and, through my own pseudo-inspirational writing, I convinced myself that I had found it.
I still love studio, and I will undoubtedly miss it. Don't let my bitter words fool you. I love the conceptual process of problem-solving through design. I love the weird comfort of 5AM jitters.
Something just went wrong this semester. I was architecturally fried. I over-thought to the point of debilitation. It's not that I didn't try, but thinking doesn't produce, and production is the only evidence of "real" work. We don't get As for effort, we get As for visible, tangible progress. And that's completely understandable. I'm not upset with the grade I received; within the confines and expectations of the course, it was exactly what I deserved. And what I would have given myself. But I'm just disheartened. I don't know why I got so stuck. If this is was really my "passion", it wouldn't have happened in the first place.
What really got to me, more than the designer's block and Kory's consistent looks of disappoint, was my mid-semester apathy towards the entire situation. That's not to say that I was apathetic towards the class itself. But I lacked the anxiety and worry that had, up until recently, become so familiar. I knew I wasn't doing well and I sort of just shrugged it off, half-expecting another end-of-the-semester miracle. A miracle that obviously didn't come. It wasn't until a few weeks before the final review that I actually thought about what I was doing, or, more accurately, what I wasn't doing. Then came the mild-panic attack. And it was oddly reassuring. Because I knew I still cared about it. Of course, this was far too little too late. I only had a few weeks to develop and work through the kinks and intricacies that the rest of the class had spent double the time thinking about.
Suffice it to say, my final review left much to be desired. Scratch that. My project left much to be desired. It was probably the best I could have asked for given what I had presented. I actually felt more inspired to work further after the reviewers gave me concrete advice and suggestions. But that didn't really do me much good at that point.
I felt as if I had regressed. My drawings were nothing great, my concepts were incoherent and diagrams contrived. My project had no purpose or reason, and my presentation lacked the skill and graphic prowess to compensate. I think that proved to be my biggest block. Up to this point, concept had been much more emphasized, arbitrary as they may have been. And that's what I was used to. Using a vague notion or random photograph to then understand and create more practical relationships between program and form. I was flailing without some sort of unifying factor. And my lack of direction, and resultant lack of confidence became readily apparent in the work I managed to produce. I couldn't expect my reviewers to buy what I was selling, when I didn't even own it myself. As my instructor pointed out many times, lack of confidence seemed to be my fatal flaw. And I would have to agree. There's a difference between critical thinking and second-guessing, and my prided "throughtfullness" only dug me deeper into a hole of confusion. I was trapped in a cyclic designer's block, in which my self-questioning hindered my production which in turn led me to question myself further.
I'm disappointed. In myself and in the class, as well. This was supposed to be the pinnacle of my studio career. In reality, it was my worst performance to date. But I think what hurt me the most this semester was my early recognition that I would not be pursuing architecture as a career. I don't want to deal with the bureaucracy and codes, and frankly there are too many factors that come with designing a building for my mind to hold. I could only imagine what a burden my constant need to plan would become. So coming out of this nightmare of a semester (did I mention the minimum of 2 all-nighters a week?), I can be sure of one thing. That architecture is (probably) not for me. I suppose I will reserve final judgment for after my return from Spain, but as of right now, I can safely say that I do not want to do it anymore. And I guess it's better to figure that out now than in my final year of grad school.
Until next time,
Katharine
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