I'm really not one to 'collect' things. When my
mom sold her house, I maintained the stance I've had for many years:
"thanks, but no thanks, I don't want any of your 'expensive antique'
crap."
She's got great taste, but over the years she
and my dad collected and inherited a lot of stuff. Blech.
I pride myself on being able to take pretty
much everything I own and value with me. In fact, with the exception of
sporting goods (riverboards, gear, etc), I pretty much took everything I valued
with me when I moved the last time.
I took it with me on the plane.
That's how little I collect. Virtually
everything in life is replaceable, so why not replace things when moving, or
just because it's time for something new when I'm sick of the old?
But some things are not replaceable. I had one
box of those things. I left it with my mom – so I take full responsibility for
all this, just as a disclaimer – with the intention of having it shipped to me
once I figured out where it needed to get shipped.
It was clearly, obviously, personal stuff.
There were no antiques, no knick-knacks ( I HATE little knick-knack shit).
It was simply a few books (that I hadn't had
room to take with me and hadn't needed at the time, like one on Futaleufu
Whitewater), several thick folders containing a decade and a half of
architectural designs that I had done by hand, and a few other personal things
that actually have use, like the ring of material samples I used for interior
design of commercial spaces.
But the estate-sale woman decided to completely
ignore what she was told about which things she could tag for sale and which
she could not.
My mom and those helping her during the sale (I
was out of the country) rescued quite a few items, some of which were in that
box.
But if you've ever been around an estate sale,
you know it's just the most hideous thing in the world, so much 'junk' that was
once valued is spread chaotically EVERYWHERE, with little cheap price tags on
it.
Like I said, I think nearly everything in life
is replaceable. Certain people in our lives aren't (although many – ha, most –
are), and beyond that I think for me it's just things that I create.
So I'm struggling to deal with losing every
drawing, for every house, cabin, mansion, pool, estate…that I did growing up
(and even through college).
There's no way to replace them. Well, other
than to create new ones.
I understand that. So of course I'll look at it
optimistically, that it just means I have no history as an architect – so I
guess I better get crackin!
But I enjoyed, on occasion, leafing through
those folders, those notebooks. Thinking about it now, I had one spiral
notebook with grid-paper that I worked in for probably close to a decade. Only
my most inspired, treasured ideas went in there.
I'm recalling some incredible La Jolla-worthy
houses, along with a few select product designs (the first riverboards I ever
did were in there), and a couple of early – but very inspired – brands.
But why does it matter? I should get over it.
It's just, well, just ideas that never came to life, I guess. So they are dead
seeds, right? Move on.
But I got enjoyment from being drawn back into
those rooms, from, inside the vivid imagination in my head, hearing the echoes
of my footsteps as I walked through the vast corridors, and seeing pristine
views as I looked out the expansive windows of the places I could potentially
build…
They were very powerful spaces – so I know I'll
always have pieces of them in my memory.
But the eraser marks, the occasionally crinkled
paper, the faded colors…that's all gone.
Maybe it's for the best. I don't
"need" those things. I just wanted to keep them.
As I often tell people I'm offering advice to
though, don't ever live in the past. Learn from it, close it, and apply the
lessons to living fully in the present.
There's no changing the past, and it's an empty
satisfaction whose feeling fades the more it is remembered.
So no one will ever see some 30+ houses that I
designed growing up. Some of them were pretty damn impressive. Occasionally I
think I should have been an architect.
Ok, I think that all the time, every time I see
an $8 million dollar house that is ugly and tasteless and gets the scale
completely wrong.
Or every time I drive down most streets in
suburban America.
No thought, no creative license, just blah.
I'm big on using the 'talents' that my Creator
gave me. I want to use them all before I'm done on earth.
In some ways, losing the past – which never
came to life – is a good thing and a meaningless occasion.
Because it is a reminder that only the projects
which have been birthed tangibly, which live and move all who see and
experience them…only those ones count.
So if I want to maximize my architectural self…I better get to
work!