Dishevelment.
In defence of being a little rough around the edges.
Hello! I’m back!
Shall we address the fact that it’s been a while? No, let’s not. I’ve just been busy, and there’s not much more to say than that. I hope you haven’t missed me too much, as that probably means you’ve been having too much fun of your own to notice.
One of the fun things I’ve been up to is that I took a break and went to Mexico City recently. I’ve never been to Mexico before, but some friends were getting married, so with that excuse in my back pocket, we decided to add on a week or so and have a look around.
I’ve talked previously about feeling that I work in a pattern of absorption and expulsion. I experience things, think about them, and then, possibly create something. This process takes an unknown period of percolation, procrastination and proactivity. But what about the absorption? How does that work?
There’s a feeling of overwhelming-ness that comes from being exposed to so much input. For me, it’s a feeling of… How will I remember it all? Will I be able to consume enough useful details in the brief time I have? It’s a feeling of excitement with a dash of panic thrown in, but in my experience, there’s nothing to worry about, and nothing much to do about it either. There is no way of knowing what will lodge in my mind and what won’t. I can think of trips I’ve been on that have revealed themselves in countless ways down the line, and others where I’ve gone with a clear idea which has failed to get even a millimetre off the ground.
Of course, I do due diligence. I take photos, make notes, and even do the odd abortive sketch, but the rest, well, it should just be going in. It’s hard to absorb and process simultaneously, it requires a self-assurance in the initial thought that I don’t think I possess. I at least need time to interrogate why I’ve come to that first conclusion, even if I don’t deviate from the original assessment. All this is to say, I don’t have a response to Mexico quite yet, maybe just an observation or two.
It’ll come as no surprise to those who visit the KIOSK that I like looking at architecture. However, I was not expecting to be presented with such a stunning array of Twentieth Century modernism in Mexico City, and no one had thought to warn me. But what I saw in the neighbourhoods we frequented (mainly Roma/La Condea) was so keenly in my wheelhouse in terms on style and variety, that I would technically describe it as, ‘a bit much’. I don’t tend to take that many photos on trips (as I’m an annoying ‘enjoy the moment’ kind of guy), but in this environment, I felt compelled to create something of a small personal archive to which I can dip back into at some future date for reference.
I don’t know why Mexico City has such a vast collection of preserved examples from this time and movement, and even many of the more recent designs seem to be influenced by it’s legacy in a way that is far more tastefully done than in the UK. Perhaps culturally and stylistically, the leap from more traditional indigenous Mexican architecture to European modernism is not such a big one?
They’re also not really ‘preserved’ at all, they are simply lived in and used. This could have something to do with the climate being a bit kinder on buildings, as the chilly UK winters have seen many a piece of London modernism sell out it’s beautiful Crittall style windows for UPVC ones. With the complete wrong proportions, of course, and only to have them swapped out again few years later when they failed…and everyone has forgotten what the original windows were like anyway.
I’m often ranting about windows, but these little details are the difference to a piece of architecture retaining it’s intent, its balance, and beauty. One of the strengths of modernism is its reduced palette of materials, each working in a perfect harmony, but it means if one of these elements is removed it's a far bigger percentage element of the building that is suddenly ‘off'. UPVC windows pretty much always look bad, but paradoxically, they seem to fair better visually in something like a Victorian property, where they are one of many elements, but there are fewer places to hide in modernism.
The beauty of these Mexico City streets for me was in the fact that they had been left to age gracefully. Dishevelled, but still stylish. Which, speaking personally, is all I really hope for in life.
It probably says more about me and my tastes than it does about anything else, as this human element, in slight opposition to the clean intent of the modernist endeavour, is very much at the heart of all aesthetics I enjoy. Nothing is perfect, but that’s okay, and perhaps it should even be planned in, like the studied carelessness of ‘sprezzatura'. For me, it feels like a simple tip of the cap towards the chaos of life, while attempting to maintain some kind of personal order.
I was listening to Bill Nighy's new podcast recently (I know, there are too many podcasts) and he talked about the false positive of being a ‘perfectionist'. As we all know that perfection is impossible, why do we continue to present it as an image of reality, or strive to achieve it? To do so, in full knowledge of its impossible outcome, should probably be viewed as some kind of mental illness rather than a strength. That said, the response is not to give up (Nighy has clearly not given up), but simply to do what you can, and hold this paradox as you create a drawing, piece of architecture, outfit...whatever.
And the little wobbles? The wear? Well, that's all just character and style.
Le Corbusier is known as one the founding fathers of modernism, and famously said that buildings are ‘machines for living'. I feel like people get hung up on the ‘machines’ part of that quote and it eclipses the ‘living’. They are machines in service of life. An attempt to find the best possible solution to the impossible task of allowing people to live messily.
To remove further doubt, Corbusier later said, ‘Life is right, the architect is wrong'. Not that I'm standing up for everything Corbusier said (look it up, he was a bit of a prick, to put it mildly), but I do think it’s illustrative of an intent that often gets misconstrued. And thus we are left with the stark, inhuman, Bond-villain-esque aesthetic that’s still doing the rounds today, as the weird legacy of modernism that seems to wilfully miss the the point of the ideals, as much as it misses the point about ‘living’.
Anyway, I'm glad there are some nice streets in Mexico City, uncelebrated, or exemplified, just quietly existing, and looking majestic with it. Maybe I'll have some more thoughts about my brief time in Mexico, but that's all for now.
A Couple of Extra Things.
Lizzy’s new book has been announced! I’ve had the privilege of a front row seat during its inception and creation, but next year, you too will be able to experience The Wreck. I’m horribly biased, but trust me, it’s brilliant.
Claudia Cardinale died. Treat yourself to a rewatch of Once Upon A Time in the West in tribute. She is the absolute heart of that film, and the reason I named the cafe in Victory Point after her.
I don’t watch as much TV as the world thinks I should, but I enjoyed Common Side Effects recently, which is made by the some of the people who did Scavenger’s Reign, that I recommended a while back. Very different show to that, but I had a good time.
Right, we’re done. I should be around a bit more now, so do drop by the KIOSK again soon. Apologies for the small hiatus too, and if you're new here, I hope you've managed to keep yourself entertained with some of the previous outings.
Collars up, it's got a bit wintery here, and I'll see you next time.
Owen D. Pomery.
Beautiful read 👏
Have you ever considered having your illustrations published as jigsaw puzzles? As someone who enjoys your work, I think it would be a fun way to "linger" and appreciate the details and colors you put in your pictures . . .