Odilon Redon, The Monster, c. 1900
Precedent for Dracula or Voldemort?
Odilon Redon, Death: It Is I Who Makes You Serious; Let Us Embrace Each Other, 1896
Odilon Redon, On the Horizon, the Angel of Certitude, and in the Dark Sky, A Questioning Glance, 1882
Architecture is the fiction of the real world.
The city is never completed. It has a beginning but it has no end. It’s a work in progress, always waiting for new scenes to be added and new characters to move in.
Every good building is the illustration of a passing conviction. It has a civilizing effect on its environs. To illustrate means to civilize, to use the construction of an imaginarium to explain an unattainable state of completeness. Illustrations help us build a fuzzy story about their subject. ‘There it is again,’ we hear time after time… So, contrary to popular belief, an illustration is effective if it becomes the multiplication of an object’s fiction - its memory-, firing the story towards other scenarios that initially seem inexplicable, like a great archaeological discovery that changes history in an unforeseen way… Then, like Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s Tower of Babel, the image gets attached to the text and becomes its shadow: breathing its air, sharing its scale, occupying the same area, flirting with its time for a while. The task of architecture is to achieve that sliver of credibility.
It is a mistake to fancy that horror is associated inextricably with darkness, silence, and solitude. I found it in the glare of mid-afternoon, in the clangour of the metropolis, and in the teeming midst of a shabby and commonplace rooming house with a prosaic landlady and two stalwart men at my side.
Jaume Plensa, Semen-Blood / Sex-Religion / Love-Hate / Saint-Sinner / Matter-Spirit, 1999-2005
Jaume Plensa, Lady Macbeth, The Traitor and the Porter, 2000