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January 19, 2004
familiar landscapes...

Certain rooms were built to pretend to be outside, others were created to simulate a disarming warmth. Architectural wombs.
Windowless, glowing, well insulated little chambers of beauty.
How rich does it feel to walk through rooms that have blood colored walls. Not the fresh kind blood, not the blood that smells like torn apart iron, blood that was permitted to mix with oxygen, just a little, enough for us to feel the right amount of ownership over the large and very deserved kill. Frame it all with wood, exotic planks reduced to straight frames, and the air humidity better be measured, because we might break into a damp sweat of accomplishment.
Here we go, there is another one. Welcome to a chamber of sweet secrets. Here is a place that nature would never manage to create, at least not without the help of a superior being, one that is able to create a visual grammar, put things into an emotional, historical context... the past looks primitive, the future looks bright. The present is a blade.
Make sure not to step on the glass.
All yours... to look at.