Perfect Architect

by Jayne Joso

  I’m gonna design it the coolest curviest glass bathtub, spliced through to meet with the curve of the glass globe wall, so it’ll look and feel just like you’re bathing right out in the sea itself, oh I’m on a roll alright. – just undo these here pants a little, phew, either they’s a shrinking or this little ole gut’s busting out further than I realised.

  Of course the structure’ll need to be large enough to accommodate floors, two I guess; with the entrance being high up, reached by a super gyring cantilevered staircase! How about that? Shit! I want it for myself! – Nope. No good being selfish. The lady needs cheering up, and shit, if living in a gigantic disco ball don’t do it, nothing will!

  Take a look at me! Gee! All that moping around, all that: oh, I can’t do it, I can’t design a house, what’s wrong with me? Man! Just a drop of bourbon, put on my disco pants and hell! Eureka! That’s the fundamentals covered. She’s a nice woman wanting a cool house, and hell is she gonna get one!

  Ralph reflects for a moment on Alessandro.

  I feel pretty bad about this Zandro my pal, but I think I got you licked on this one. Nothing like a little iddy-biddy shot of fear to kick ass, and hell, out pops gee-ni-us! Huh! Cutting-edge-freakin-transitional-archi-tarti-tecture! Look out world, here come Coover’s Balls! And that’s only just the start.

  A fresh glass of bourbon in hand, swivelling on his heels, his own sweet take on Motown swirling round his head:

  Ain’t no stopping me now!

  I’m on the move!

  Ain’t no stoppin me now!

  I’ve got the groove!

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Edwin Ray, Passion and Spittle

  Edwin Ray is secretly delighted by the competition, but he needs a certain amount of time to play out his pretence at resistance. It’s three in the morning, he paces about his architecture laboratory in short measured steps, almost tripping as his mind outruns his tread. He mutters away to himself, gradually growing in spirit and spittle, building up to a rant with arms a waving, and celebrating the challenge with red-wine cork a popping. His trusty dog, The Scotsman, has been awake and observing for a while now. He’s seen the signs before. It might not be tonight, but soon something magical will emerge.

  For the moment this project seems inconceivable. Where to start? No distinct site. Few points of reference. Some details, requirements, yes… but almost a free hand. Can this be true? Should he contact Mrs Ore? Enquire further? But this largely open brief is surely what she desires, it must indeed be her intention. And he would not want to bother her, she is still perhaps in mourning after all. Each of the other architects will have been furnished with just as few details; and for all the world he would not care to give the impression that the task belied his capabilities. So few restrictions! He should be in his element! This, he knew. But still, he muses, one cannot start from nowhere! How to begin? Damn and blast! Argh! So many questions! Must not pull out my beard! The Scotsman rests his head on one side, he knows that Edwin begins with a rant and ends with design, ’tis always the way. Though it will certainly take time.

  Edwin taps his pencil rhythmically, runs an aria through his head, strokes his beard… mindful not to pull. Music! Now therein lies stimulus aplenty! He reaches out, makes a selection and presses ‘play’. Inspired, he sups a little more on a rather fine wine… music… is this the initial inroad? Or a diversion? Too soon to tell. – And materials! I will allow these to inform in some measure… yes, I will work that way… there is much to do, much indeed, and time, just ten weeks! And she wants a model! She doesn’t ask for much! – The wine, the

  music – inspiration, ah! – Charles’ love of opera! That’s certainly an inroad! A musical score! Perhaps something can be mapped, charted from… from an opera score, yes. Charles Ore was quite passionate about opera, it was well known. Perhaps his wife’s passion also! For who does not love opera? I must do some research. An opera, possibly the libretto itself… that could really form the textural dimension. Much to do, to do!

  Edwin slapped his thigh in satisfaction, nothing like a challenge to set the adrenaline pumping, that and a soupcon of wine – a whole bottle by sunrise. He toyed with ideas the night through.

  Somehow, he reflected, the place must also draw together the Ores’ lives… his great life and then parting from this world, and her emergence from grief – for that is surely what inspired her to come up with the competition at all – his passing away, and her movement forwards and into a new future.

  He scribbled some notes… A lexicon of life, then death, its aftershocks, the life that continues. There is so much to consider. But music… always with music….

  A taste for smart concrete at least, something our work had in common, so it would be nothing of a betrayal of my own work, and could very well form something of a compliment to Charles. Or perhaps, translucent concrete? Nice indeed… but again, too early to say.

  Edwin would give it some thought.

  Glass… a glass roof, for Gaia Ore might well be suited to a dwelling with a feeling of serenity, artfulness, and simplicity… and she would need light… as much natural light as could possibly be drawn in. – A model… maybe so, but I want this project animated, in fact, I want the most marvellous computer animation of this work possible! Let’s work at this like nothing else!

  Music, was indeed, ultimately the key, though not quite in the way he had first envisaged. The Scotsman padded about the floor, he a had a length of paper sticking to one paw, Edwin eyed it and then took The Scotsman by surprise, lifting the paw to remove it. Edwin smiled at what was now a beautiful curve of paper and moved back to his desk. The Scotsman, somewhat disgruntled at the surprise attack, settled himself in his cardboard box.

  The paper curled easily about his fingers. He pictured musical notes, imagined them positioned along a staff… a long strip of paper… or… a shorter piece… A particular musical phrase, yes… perhaps for the violin? – You see it on the page, notes dancing on a staff. You pluck it from the page… and curl it around your finger… looping round and up! Now freeze the image, enlarge, create a net… fill in the net making it solid. – Just a curl, a sail of paper, music rising up….

  We will make it using concrete, maybe translucent… but also glass… yes, a musical phrase. – And the notes themselves informing other elements. – The violin! Yes! The music itself must be for the violin!

  It might occur to those who knew Edwin well that his choice of music may have had less to do with Charles and Gaia Ore than it did with a very particular woman from Edwin’s own past. For didn’t he used to know someone who could play the violin rather well, and wasn’t that someone a long lost love named Lizzie? Lizzie, who had once broken his heart?

  Edwin would never allow himself to acknowledge this connection consciously, but he wondered at moments why he had been so certain that the music simply had to have been for the violin. No matter, he thought. His Frozen Music was taking shape, and all this spontaneity only added to his excitement. A house of music, filled with light!

  A curl of paper, a curve of paper… this was enough, a place from which to begin. And now he must consider the dweller’s daily life… the acoustics of the building – this would be most important, he might design a complete sound system… but was there time? Music and light. What better way to heal a grieving heart.

  Edwin would have his design team work around the clock on this project. It was 6am, they began to arrive. The computer animation for this would be nothing short of state of the art, but Edwin insisted the team slow down the speed of these visuals, he would not have them as ridiculously fast paced as they’d been apt to run things of late. The most recent fly-throughs he’d seen literally sent his head spinning. If high speed flight through a design of several floors didn’t set off a fit or at very least a migraine, nothing would! His animators were among the best, that he knew, but Lordy, slow it down! The
team regularly teased the architect about not keeping up with technology. He hastened to point out that they were not employed in the world of computer games, faced by sharp shooters round every corner, or alien-zombies shooting up through false floors, and he tersely reminded them how architectural greenhorns were ten-a-penny to replace. They shut up, and designed as instructed. What’s more, Edwin was right, and when push came to shove their alien-zombie heads knew it.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Seduction

  Today Alessandro is out at his office. Left alone, Gaia bathes, then wanders about his enchanting home. She settles lazily in the sunshine. The windows overlooking the gardens let in a pale warm heat. Drops of sunshine shimmer in the air.

  She runs over Selené’s last letters to Charles. The final three. Lying naked now, and contented, she reads them over and over, recasting the voice as her own, and Alessandro, as the recipient.

  From Letter 1

  Selené to Charles

  I think you star architects wait far too long before designing the ‘dream home’, why wait?

  I can sense that my teasing might make you mad, still – you must allow a girl her fun. I’d certainly never keep your attention if I did but only adore you, and adore you, I do….

  From Letter 2

  Selené to Charles

  …it is a woman’s want to inspire the flame of man from time to time.

  …some of us have the good sense to keep you men at a wise and comfortable distance appropriate to our same requirements of say, the changes in season.

  From Letter 3

  Selené to Charles

  I so love to tease, but that’s always the way, and passions always peak in the wake of, and fear of losing them. Oh I am too cruel again. Forgive me, but the grass has been freshly cut, and I am of a mind to take… a lover.

  That luscious minted air, arouses me more than the scent of any man, but then my affinity has always been with nature….

  Gaia grew passionate, laughing, wild. Selené, she must write to her.

  Letter: Lover

  Gaia to Selené

  Dear Selené,

  Oh, what shall I tell you? And how? I must remain calm and composed, but it’s not possible, I feel so blissfully drunk, with life!

  If I am to write anything sensible at all, I must keep my thoughts ordered. Firstly, I have decided to stay on here, I don’t know for how long, at least until the competition is through, and this relates to another important point… Alessandro, the Italian, has suggested that the competitors gather here in Italy to present their work, and I am going to accept, though I am beginning to worry about the press and our privacy. I must protect the competitors, for this was never intended as a news story and I can see how easily it might become one. But perhaps we can create a diversion, a press release with false locations… something of that order. So much to consider! But I know that Alessandro will help me all he can. And I am becoming so excited by it all, Selené. – The finale! It is no time away at all now, and it would make me so happy if you would also come. I know, I know, but please!

  I would so love to meet you!

  Secondly, I have now had plenty of time to consider what I might do with the Construct. I have filled so many notebooks with ideas and possibilities while I’ve been here, and I’ve walked so many miles… my mind has finally begun to find some clarity. And so, it occurs to me that many of the units would make perfect music rooms, some might even be soundproofed and adapted to be used as studio space for recording. I have decided to make the building over to my mailman, and now friend, Tom Bradshaw. I think Charles would also approve and so it seems fitting. I will make over a sum of money to him also, for running costs and so forth, a kind of sponsorship, so to speak.

  And thirdly, Italy is proving a wonderful lift to my spirit, and Alessandro also. I would not have believed it possible, but find myself bathed in desire. What has happened to me? I lay now, reading over the lines of your letters, planning to play them out as I venture now to seduce this man. Is it very wicked of me to use them so?

  My deepest affection

  Gaia

  Letter: Architect

  Selené to Gaia

  My dear sweet Gaia,

  Your words, as always, are dear to me. It seems that Italy suits you rather well, rejoice! The Italian suits you also! Make love with him! It seems there is precious little that I can instruct or advise upon, and therefore, I rejoice!

  But darling Gaia, do not seduce with the words of another, it is not honest, it is not true. You must find words that are your own. You must take the courage to be architect of your own life.

  I will not come to Italy.

  My love to you now, and always

  Selené

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Desire

  Alessandro was familiar with the English phrase, bloody awful, and now, whilst sneaking an intimate peek at Gaia’s rock-climbing-carcasses – with the aim of discovering her shoe size – he felt he finally had an appropriate context in which to use it. Soft, worn-in leather, so worn-in that it stank, bloody awful!

  Small feet, delicate. Time for a surprise gift! Salvatore Ferragamo!

  Alessandro was in his element, Gaia was clearly comfortable in his home, she seemed to have an affinity with Italy, and with him? Rapport and… he pinched himself, afraid of how much he hoped for, of how deeply desirous he had grown. – Shoes! He must remain focused, but quite inexplicably, it was now with trepidation that he ventured to choose this special secret gift.

  So, what colour, what design, material, and texture? There was so much to consider. Gaia Ore. Beautiful, ethereal. She concealed, challenged. She was, at times, impossible to impress; at others, happy to find amazement in things too ordinary to contemplate. Gaia. Ah, it was tricky, finding the right shoe for Gaia, very tricky. Alessandro forced a smile, to find some humour and lighten the spirit, but the shoes displayed before him in the shop just now only perplexed. He felt too hot, then shivered. What was wrong? What was happening? Gaia, what do you do to me?

  All these long weeks, his desire for her was so intense, and the more intense, the less he felt able to seduce. – Shoes… black. Should they be black? Those tiny feet. Black? He ran his fingers over the surface of the shoes, cold patent, soft suede, warm leather, stiff. What’s wrong? The shoes, such shoes, such heavenly shoes, but no, no more! He had to get out. A man realising he had unwittingly mastered nothing more than his own romantic cliché.

  Gaia, what power do you wield that I am become a man quite lost? Suddenly I am made uneasy, agitated, I fear your rejection, your leaving, somehow even your staying, and I can share nothing of this with you. What happens? What happens if you reject my affections? It would be natural, for you are a woman in mourning, a woman of whom I have made a dear friend, a woman who is wanting of nothing more. If you leave, it will be because you must, because you must continue your life, make a home of your new house. If you stay, I fear, just fear, and I am tormented now by this – I will disappoint you, fail you, even make you sad, for I have not the confidence that I could cheer you, as I once so wished I might. Gaia, Gaia. No, I must compose myself, I must maintain some distance, and not make more confusion. I would make you a gift of all the great shoes of the world, of anything, of everything, but somehow it’s not right. I am losing my head! Losing my way. No shoes, no gifts, nothing!

  Friendship, yes… the competition will end, you will leave, and I, I will carry on. Of course, that is all natural. All as it should be. As it will be.

  Nervously, he walked the streets to clear his mind, going back to his office to drown in work awhile. There would soon be visitors, the other competitors, and there was much to prepare. Hotel rooms to book, cars to be arranged, caterers. At least, he determined, playing host to the guests was something he would make a definite success of. I
t would be wonderful to see Ralph. As always, it had been too long since he’d seen his good friend, and how marvellous to meet with the others, and this… this was to be Gaia’s moment, he should keep that in mind. Yes, he must concentrate on his original intention, to help in her recovery, to lighten her mood, to restore to her some cheer – this extended vacation would hopefully achieve that in some measure. He should not have hoped for more. She looked very well in Italy, he should feel proud, glad! And that, that was enough. The competition… it was a marvellous architectural adventure; soon Gaia would choose her favourite design and eventually she would be able to settle again, and enjoy her new home.