A room without a view

by Jim Caryl

The view from my window at work is an uninspiring one. It is a view replete with the type of dreary, grey, office blocks that bruise the sky, so commonly left to us as a legacy of unthoughtful, low-cost, late 60’s commissioning of infrastructure. There are currently three new blocks rising steadily in my view, all of which are sterile, grey monoliths. In some parts of Leeds they have at least clad the new builds with variations of pastel colours, a necessary, if somewhat retarded, means of tidying up such Luddite architectural designs.

It’s not as if they were incapable of interesting “block” design in the 60’s, take for example Habitat ’67 in Montreal, built to house delegates of the 1967 Expo. It’s a chaotic mass of concrete, but is at least visually interesting.

I can only imagine that the architects responsible are either having their arms bent behind their backs by local government zoning laws, or are the pusillanimous retards of the profession, incapable of drawing anything other than straight lines, and covering up for their lack of design prowess by cladding their buildings in shaded glass or coloured panels.

Just once I would like to see a truly inspiring building go up, something along the lines of Hundertwasser or Goudi.

I live in hope, but at the very least, the lack of view keeps me looking inwards for inspiration, and not outwards.

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