- 来源:建筑创作 smarty:if $article.tag?>
- 关键字:马德里,特尔加诺,建筑 smarty:/if?>
- 发布时间:2014-04-25 08:49
Fable of the Happy Architect and White Cubic House
——On the occasion of construction of the Turégano House at Pozuelo， Madrid in 1987
Once upon a time， there was a young architect in an old country who was in passionate love of architecture and crazy for it. He was an artist who thought and built houses. He was a thinker who built while also a builder who thought. Thinking and building， as well as dreaming and making those dreams come true， is immensely happy for him.
In the same country， there were some other architects， who were believed to possess the exclusive knowledges， were convinced of being the sole possessors of truth. They despised the young architect to be contaminated， uneducated， being out-of step and impureand said， “He built and then stained”.
In the same country， there were some other architects， who were believed to possess the exclusive knowledges， were convinced of
being the sole possessors of truth. They said that “His thicking was in the clouds” and despised him to be radical， stubborn， nothardheaded
and rigorous and was a purist.
Surrounded by these two angry and enraged seas， our architect， serene， became strong in his island where he was happily immersed
in thinking and build.
He thought and thought， and conceived that his beautiful works could and should be realized.
Constructed and placed in beautiful factories that depicted those ideas with amazing clarity.
“As if performing conceive. What I think is feasible， and I do not conform to the intelligible，” he repeated with his beloved Eupalinos.
And considering that reveled in the beauty of his works came from that built thinking
“No ideas，” he said， “there can be no good Architecture. Architecture is more than just form.”
“No building， “he explained， “there can be no true Architecture： Architecture is more than just Idea”.
And thinking and building， dreaming and making those dreams coming true， is immensely happy.
One day， our eternally young architect， artist， dreamed of living in an idea： a white， cubic cabin. Well， he had always thought that instead of looking for Paradise， Cottage was the true Paradise and what he tried to build. Once again the myth of the primitive hut！“Reaching to build an ideal place to live in， the artist camp up. It must be the epitome of happiness for the wise man.” Inhabiting anideal！ Living in a dream come true！
The next day， how long did that day was almost over a year！ Our artist， with the help of other crazy people who understood him， got to work and built the idea！
And how his heart beat when those walls were rising proclaiming that this was actually possible！ And how his spirit trembled when the Light shining on those walls！
And how his whole being was thrilled when the radiant beauty penetrated in that space， never to leave！
The artist thought he would die of happiness.
On the third day still hard that day！ rested. And he saw that what he had done was good. And he lived in that white house and light eternally happy.
And the birds came to rest on it.
And the trees that surrounded it shadow and offered him his most seasoned fruit.
And the air stroked home in the evening.
And though the artist wanted to take refuge in silence， light and beauty and architecture did not cease to proclaim from the rooftops what had happened there. Will there ever someone somewhere to hear those voices singing？