My First Time

They say you never forget your first time. That’s true for me. I’ve got a photo of mine.


Here’s where it happened:
Thursday 15th April 1999, mid-morning ish, the Guggenheim, New York.


As I stood here a fresh-faced second year architecture student, still buzzing from my American-sized coffee and donut breakfast, this was the first time that I began to connect the lectures and the studio work that I had been struggling with over the past 18 months with architecture in wider sense.

This was my first time. At last. I have to admit I had been worried if it was ever going to happen.

Had I visited the Guggenheim a year earlier I’d have probably made some vacuous observation (nice spiral) and been out of there in a few minutes and on to the next sight New York had to offer. But this was the right time for me. My plan for the day went out of the window and I stayed wandering through the building, sketching, looking and photographing (and completely ignoring the other punters and the art) in a manner which would raise some serious security concerns these days.

So this is architecture. I want to be an architect. Thanks Frank.


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