Hearing the Call

Is it a calling? Is a person born to be an architect? And if so, was I? I don’t think so. And that might the problem.

Ideally, we choose the careers we pursue. Our careers are an extension of who we think we are, or want to be. The life we wish to live, how we imagine we want others to view us. It all influences how we choose the paths we follow.

Everyone assumes that I always wanted to be an Architect. That, some defining moment when I was young lead me to where I currently am. Personally, I am not quite sure.

I think about this a lot at work. Around me, a hive of activity, people on the go, always working, always absorbed, always invested in the tasks at hand. They are creative, thoughtful, exciting. I feel rather sloth-like in comparison, like I am constantly moving at three-quarters speed. Will it always be like this?

When I was a second year, I found myself never far from studio. At least during the day. I survived one year of student housing, escaping to an off-campus studio the first chance I got. I just needed my own space, and more importantly, the ability to cook for myself. But, moving off campus had a trade-off. I had to be disciplined about how I worked.

I arrived on campus early, usually before 8:00 am. I went straight to studio on the days I didn’t have a morning class, which meant that, every Tuesday and Thursday, I had four glorious hours to myself to pick away at whatever challenge lay before me. And as the time flew by, so did my mind, my hands. Nothing existed but me and the things before me. And I found out how much I could accomplish in a short amount of time.

These mornings were my most productive. I could complete a set of drawings, a couple of good study models, all while selfishly playing the music of my choice as loudly as I wished. But, more than just the ability to work the way I wished, was a sense of, I guess I would call it, pure stimulation, which seemed to course through me. It wasn't an effort to be in studio, to focus on a drawing, to wait patiently for glue to dry. It was a fever, a need to accomplish something, to see an idea realized. It wasn’t work then. It was something altogether different. And I had hoped, then, that my life in the architecture profession would carry some of that magic.

Sometimes, the hours at work pass quickly. But something is still missing. Perhaps it is because so much of the time is spent clicking a mouse, hitting a space bar, typing “CO” over and over again. The variety of studio life, the move from paper, to wood, to computer, and back, made the process of creating so much more tactile, physical. And, hopefully, time will come to call upon those skills. At least my sketching abilities have been called upon, although it will be crunched between preparing reflected ceiling plans and window details.

Don’t get me wrong. I am learning a lot, and being challenged in very different ways. But, I’ll admit, a small part of me dreamed of being so invigorating by what I did, that I would wake up excited to be headed off to the office. After all, how many times have you heard, if you don’t love it, then why do it? Now, don’t mistake me. I don’t think everyone loves what they do, and even those who do, don’t love it one hundred percent of the time. But, I do hope that, once again, I’ll feel the way I felt back then, when in the quiet hours of the morning, I felt truly moved by the possibilities of architecture.