Japanese dreams are for the ones who are tired of the West, but want the good things the Occident have served us since we grew up. I don't like Sweden, but I'm aware that some things here are good for you. I want to dedicate my life to one belief, one work, one notion, one investigation - but life constantly demands of you to do otherwise. Perhaps sufficient balance and mixture is all that is needed, after all, I have no need to collect new music anymore, since I have about 800 tracks I shuffle from everyday. If I find a new song, I play it until I've killed it, and then I go back to my experimental stash of no-names and no-places.

Missing you everyday. Thinking of you everyday. Will we make it together? Are we fit to be together? I think so. All this waiting ... but in time, I will finish, and we will make a home together. Does that sound good to you? Love is a blinding light, but it also forces you to stand up for something, to defend someone whenever possible. I suppose I'm a bit old-fashioned. I want to be everything, but in reality, I am not much, and none of us can be much.

Turns out the Architectural Review is reading my unit's blog, because one of my drawings from January was put up as an entry. I wasn't informed, I had no knowledge of it, and there's no link to it. How I found it? I googled myself, as all of us do when we're bored. Everyone does it.


No Shame, No Knowledge

Leaving a rainy London behind me, arriving in a rainy Copenhagen, ahead of me. Whole days spent indoors, early afternoons in the sofa, doubting all that is good but bouncing back at the sound of a telephone, yes, hello? no, he's not at home. Wednesday is the big day, when you come, when we'll be together, when we'll never let go of each other, not our love, because we're meant, we're meant ...

(The task is not to make yourself understood, it is
in making yourself understand what it is you write.)


I respond to cleverness by being even more clever

Reading the AArchitecture 20 (Time) along with Kant's Critique of Judgement during the spring break, with one last visit to the school before it closes, together with my brother and sister-in-law, to chat with Chris of Inter 9 about welding, Hawaii, disastrous crits and the joy of a school brimming with activity.

I think I'm approaching a point in my writing where I can express myself almost as well in English as in Swedish, and, in a way, I actually find a foreign language to be liberating in that I, paradoxically, have a much more acute "feeling" of the right word at the right time. English for me is more charged in Swedish; whereas in my mother tongue I can use whatever phrase I like and stitch it together with whatever word I want, in English, the process of making a good text is much more generous to your literal intuition. In English, I have a much more developed sense of what is "appropriate" to write. Perhaps "liberating" is the wrong word - it is the natural direction that a good constraint gives when endowed to you.

I found an old diary note from 2010 that lamented on the "bad" crit I had at the end of third year in Sweden. I raged against all the shortcomings of my project, which at this point in time appears as a sort-of reversed narcissism, where I believe my project was meant to be something much bigger than what it was (what I was). But it was a good read, because I got to review the comments from the crit again, one of them being: "maybe you should think less."

Such a comment indicates that *something* is wrong. However, in this case, I think the solution is: more thinking! I will craft my words to that point when everyone will just back off and say whoa, don't know what you're up to, and since I don't understand it, something is wrong with *your* text, not my understanding. Such a pity of a thought.

A few days ago I embarked on a new project: that of writing a book. With nearly 400,000 words comfortably behind me in poems, I'm collecting notes for my book project, which aims to investigate the most tired cliché of architecture there is: that of "space." What the fuck is space, anyway? So far, my thesis is this: space is an object. That's it. A simple statement, just like Heidegger's Being and Time started with the question: what does it mean to be?

Elitism to the people!
I'd much rather side with Heidegger
than the X-factor.



I came to realize last night with a bit of a surprise that I haven't had any hallucinations now for almost half a year. I still become anxious from time to time (such as when I forget the medicine, but perhaps more for the sake of me forgetting it rather than the effect it has on me), but I don't hear any voices, none at all. I suppose I should be happy, but in a way, they were a natural part of me when I was tired, sort of slips into dreams when the real night was falling. I listened to them, I recorded them, I recorded everything. To what ends? To document my memories for a future where I don't need them?

Another strange effect the medicine is having on me is my total lack of capability, since two years, to cry. Even if I want to, if I *feel* like it, out of relief, anguish or melancholy, I just sit there. Nothing happens. Not that I was much of a crybaby before, but I did cry when there was a reason to - when my grandfather died, when my grandmother died, all natural, but still, it hurt. However, when my paternal grandmother had a stroke in her home and passed away in the hospital days later, and at the funeral, I didn't cry at all. I missed her immensely, and I would've wished that she would live long enough to see me do well, to meet my future wife, to be there at the wedding, to invite to my home in a faraway country ... but it will not happen. Time's up. Time's up for all of us.

(I wish I could cry.)

I know what I will do for the break. I have a plan. I will make my barge, my architectural gesamtkunstwerk, into, literally, a movement (seems fitting for something as conceptually floating [excuse the pun] as a ship). It will be a ship of innumerable levels of architecture offices, of print studios, of exhibition space, of schools, of testing grounds, of material labs ... the barge will become an autonomous non-country of endless (but focused) architectural bliss. And I will be the God of the story.


Almost April

There are a number of questions that bother me these days, so I think I'm going to write them down here for further consideration:

1) How do you learn to finish things rather than to begin them?
2) Can you tie together a project exclusively by NOT tying them together?
3) How much can you change the world from your own drafting table?

1) I think it's something you have to learn the hard way. To learn to be stubborn and not give in at the first obstacle you reach. At the same time, pride in finished things lasts quite shortly. We are performers, our struggle is our gold, so to be a teacher, it would not be a matter of reveling in past year's successes, but rather in guiding the present students you have, who is struggling to make a project out of a statement (or the opposite). But it is also a mindset you can take control over. You can learn to appreciate the last stretches of a project, when, usually, you've scrutinized it from so many angles you can't for your life's worth make sense of it in yet another way. Running a big project is hard. "Tell me something new", you might say. I'm fine with that.

2) I'm toying with the idea of presenting my proposal as a schizoid hybrid of ideas that appear to be separate, but which uncover their interrelations towards the end of the presentation. One way to do so might be to bring them together under the umbrella term of "movement", how I, if I am here to propose a new style (that terrible word!), have to go through a series of agonizing purges that flush my architectural body clean, before I can sit down and draw not something new, not something unique, but something me.

3) I once read a story about a scientist (whose name I've forgotten) who was so scared of communicating or chit-chatting with others that he escaped through the back door to the garden every time someone rang the front door bell. It reminds me of how people with lots of one thing (ability to think, ability to draw, ability to see) might have a deficiency of other things (sociability, tact, "selling" the idea). I wonder what my place would be. I don't feel lonely, although I spend a lot of time on my own. If I don't become a professor, I will certainly run my own office. I want to hire someone who is a good talker, who can travel the world in my place and promote our projects. Perhaps I'm just in need of a partner.



Today was a thought-and-read-day, as was yesterday. I deliberated a lot on my future, how I can achieve it, how I will get there, if it is what I want etc. etc. And recently, after a Skype call and a walk to the grocery store, I jotted down my ambition:

I want to become a professor in architecture at Tokyo Tech in Japan.

I know, it's silly, and perhaps even big-headed, but such are all ambitions - inspiration and motivation is what drives me. If there weren't people lining up to try, there would be no successes. Someone has to be the one, and if you fight hard and long for something, you can reach it. And even if you don't, that ambition still provides you with guidance throughout your life. Perhaps it is not silly as much as it is naive. So be it, then. I'd much rather be naive than cynical.

For me, it is a re-connection with the child I was: I wanted to become a professor long before I knew what a professor did, other than being a kind of epitome of knowledge. And I've wanted to do architecture ever since I learned to draw. And I want to go to Japan, to live there with my wife. London ... sure, I like you, but my love is somewhere else.

I know, this post might sound like one of those corny motivational posters. It is a cliché, just as the phrase "find your passion!" is a cliché. But, in the vein of Mark Cousins, perhaps the cliché is the closest we can get to the real thing.

Looking forward to writing and drawing away the spring break ...


Friday is Cake Day

I think that I think too much, but with a Technical Studies deadline approaching, I have no choice but to act. You can't present a project only about writing, although writing is certainly an integral part of the work. I wish I wanted to make things as much as I want to write. But it's nothing I will give up. There are people who wish they were good at writing, and we can't all be perfect beings, as the perfect is boring, in the words of an old friend.

Perhaps my writing is also a way to make up for a degree of lack of self-confidence in talking that I have in English. In Swedish, I have no issues with talking, but it's harder in English, and I often fall back on platitudes, pre-thought phrases, or rather, expressions of thought still in its infancy.

How things have changed over the years. I remembered the first time I read about someone receiving electric shock therapy for his depression (it was on a philosophy blog) and my immediate reaction was: how weird and self-destructive would your thoughts have to be to end up in such a place? Little did I know I would become "one of them" later in life.

On my first month at Ward 211, I balanced on an edge between suicide thoughts and sheer happiness. It was like a roller coaster ride. I folded paper cranes which I gave to the old ladies (who were too afraid to go home), I wrote poems about feverish dreams. I called the nurses when I saw a ADHD-girl in the room next to me with a computer power cord around her neck - they got up, took away the cable and gave her a Zyprexa (20 mg).

Will all of these memories ever become useful?
No one can say I'm living a regular life.


Round Two! Fight!

I realized a thing today which made good sense of my disparate life: everything I do, is a search for safety. "Safety" here is not the best word, but I wrote it down in Swedish first, as "trygghet", a word for both comfort and safety. Since my father collapsed in the kitchen in 2009, I have been on a journey for the safety which was taken away from me. My mother and I are alike in this respect; we both worry of things that may or may not happen, and it paralyses us in anxiety.

The past days I've woken up with that unnerving gut feeling again. I can resist it, by getting up and doing things, have breakfast, go to school, work. But I stay in my bed, for far too long, and worry.

Now, in the evening, as I've come to this realization, it is easier. I know I will get out of bed tomorrow, because to understand your own behaviour gives you control over it. If I know *why* I prefer the bed, even when I'm not sleepy, I can push myself in the other direction. Into the fears. Into the unknowns. That's why I came to the AA, because I wanted to prove to others - and to myself - that I could find safety in the most unsafe of environments. I took a risk - I'm still taking it - and I do what I can with it - to run, to understand.

Maybe I do have Asperger's syndrome.
Maybe I am indeed schizophrenic.
Maybe I live in a psychosis.

I don't know. I eat so much medicine. One makes me sleepy, the other does nothing.
I can't quit. I won't quit. I'm not a quitter. I persevere. I fight!


No Mo!

Another day, another pound, I'm earning a new life little by little. Tables presentation went not perfect, but entertaining. I managed to anger one of my jurors, to the point where he bluntly asked me what I needed him for, if my entire project is about getting rid of architects, rather than asking them for help. Fortunately, the others seemed to get where I was coming from, and that it made sense to speak of a purge - at least figuratively - when relating to the history of architecture, whether we *need* the tabula rasa, or if we're always doing architecture with the intent to avoid the architects, that is, if Rem (too many times!) gets his will across. I suppose you always have to just believe in yourself and don't give in though the going gets tough.

Tomorrow will be TS day, with heaps of efficiency and the creative bending of rules for the sake of a decent product. I got to hear what I needed to hear, rather than what I wanted to hear. Now, to move forward, to make models (which I still don't understand), and listen to outrageously funky J-pop from the future taking over the AA every catchy refrain by refrain. One thing to keep in mind: refine, don't reinvent. Bollocks! My entire life is about finding new solutions to everything that is not new. I'm not a Heidegger, I wouldn't have the faith in making just one book, about one thing, let alone one project, without filling it with variations that bring out the internal contradictions that prove useful.

Pier Vittorio called my text a manifesto. He's not the first one. To me, it always feels strange, because this is just the way I write. Am I opinionated? That would be a nightmare! I'm just writing this way because that's how I write. I like to revolutionize, or at least make outrageous claims, because how else are we supposed to reach anywhere?


Familiar Sky

Soon spring break, going home, receiving visitors. Will the leaves be as beautiful when they're new - every year - as they are when they fall, and past year's waves of mild sand let off their weight in piles around the roads. Water-saturated roads. I'm thinking of the meaning of life, and it appears to me, as if there isn't any meaning in our actions, that we're all irrational yet guided by the past. A meaningless world is nothing to be scared of, it just means that we are free to do anything we please. Free. I like that word.


Spring in Hyde Park

I wish you could be here with me. I wish we could walk the trail from Marble Arch (which I always confuse with White City, the Arch being, well, white ...) to St. James Park and the Ritz, but for now, I will have to make this walk on my own, with the BBC promising 18 *C and sunshine, and I foolishly went with my winter's coat, causing me to overheat. Fortunately, I was half-wise, half-stupid, and wore my summer's hat to the city (at least my head was kept cool).

Now, with gifts in my room, ready to send tomorrow before going to school, with a letter and some greetings. Some people enjoy giving more than taking, and I suppose I'm a bit of both. I got out of my seat for an old lady on the bus, for instance. (And then I sat down in the hard rock seat in the back). My teacher was a bit disappointed, I could tell, to talk to me on Friday, because I had been busy doing technical studies, which I want to do well, since I'm not very used to all things technical. It's a bit strange. I never make it easy for myself.


Answers (We All Want Them)

You may laugh all you want, but my next book project (which is just an excuse to put my perpetual Heidegger-project to the side) is "What Is Philosophy?" by Deleuze and Guattari. The reason is two-fold: 1) I've spent so much time reading obscure literature that I thought it was time to engage in something more mainstream, and 2) these are two authors that everyone seem to refer to in secondary anthologies, essays and articles; they must obviously exert some kind of power that lets them endure collective amnesia. I only just started to read this book yesterday, but it's a fairly easy book to read so I don't think it will take me too long to finish. Heidegger was also kind of understandable in the beginning, but now as I approach the end and he starts referring back to all the themes he has invented for the sake of his argument, it gets difficult. Still, rewarding reads, both of them.

We have a workshop with Madelon Vriesendorp on the last day of the term, but she will not look at our projects in any other way than just passing, for the theme of it is one of her own projects in Shenzen: the "idol tower." We will use it as a departure point for the final exhibition at the end of the academic year, and, since it will be done in model form, we have to think of how our projects can be exhibited in a way that fits with the theme Madelon spells out for us. I'm very curious of what kind of person she is, what she's up to, how she can contribute, and so on. Meanwhile, I think I'll have to have a look at the book the AA published a few years ago, in celebration of her work during the past 40 years. You should do so too.


Time for Technical Studies

It's hard to choose between what is right and what is right, because both appear to be right in the same moment. For me, it's the decision whether I should stay at home or go to school on a Sunday. Perhaps planning is the key here, although I don't like to stay confined within restrictions. Next Friday is a presentation (interim, one could say) for both TS courses, and I have only just started today. But I know, I will make it, because I like to see things done.

Looking forward to April and the visit from faraway countries, a love longed for an entire year. Yes, it's already been a year since I went to Japan the last time. I love that country. I will never forget the first journey from Narita Airport to central Tokyo. Everything was just so ... different, and yet so ... homely. Everything, from the trains to the bamboo groves to the snacks offered filled me with a feeling of belonging. It should be no coincidence that everything I like the most here in the world are French and Japanese.


Tables in 2 weeks

No matter where I end up later in my life, I will always look back upon my time in school as one of the happiest in my life. Even though it is never easy, and requires a lot of attention and long hours in front of your laptop (or, as earlier this year, in front of the whiteness of paper), I would never trade the experiences I'm making here for the confusing days in 2011, my darkest year. I have learned that, like school, life is complicated and simple at the same time, complicated because of its obligations, simple because of its opportunities. I have my friends to thank for believing in me, ever since that January I decided to apply for London. Much has happened since then, but I'm still here, am I not?

Exhibition opening day with mingling students in the bar, filled to the brim. I will take a closer look at the work presented when there are less distractions, but from what I've seen so far (and read in the project description) it sounds genuinely interesting. I'm glad the AA is leaving its parametric baggage behind, even though I'm still slightly sympathetic towards the DRL ethos (you can't fault them for conviction), and we're entering a new time in architecture where the form doesn't really matter. Far from the prevailing view elsewhere, that an architect's task is mainly to invent new forms of space, the AA cherishes the project as a way to investigate and critically analyse that space. My old school, in Lund, never evaluated its proposals beyond "what is good for the user", which is okay for most people I guess, but not for me. I want to be there, at the forefront. I want to be the post-avant-garde, the post-formal excess. The AA is the place to be.

Rain, rain, rain. One of many constants that vary with every day I wake up to. Heidegger is still with me, although I've narrowed him down to 70 pages now. Should take me a month to finish, given the time spans by which I can give his text the appropriate concentration. Other than that, I read Alain Badiou as well as my Japanese phrase book. Tomorrow's back to school again, as always. Hopefully, the rain will have passed until then.


The AA

If I had to describe it in one sentence, it would be:
the school that never plays it safe.


On Late Nights

Since I began my studies at the AA, I haven't had one single all-nighter, and I'm actually quite proud of that. You know the joke: you are an architecture student because you shun the light, work through the nights and slash your wrists when the printer malfunctions the day before deadline. But in all honesty, this is all just childish. Good planning and hard work From The First Day To The Last, is what makes a project. It simply doesn't suffice to slack off the days after a crit and then work like a maniac the days before the next. Good projects are built with dedication From Day One. I cannot stress this enough: the design process doesn't consist of "fuck it" until the last two days before submission and then a sheer monster wave of panic output when we realize we don't have anything to show to the jury.

I remember how I worked in Sweden. Took a day off now and then, and then strained my eyes and back over the drafting table the day before the final crit. If we had workshops, we would sleep for one week before the teacher arrived, and then not get any sleep during the week he/she was there. It's a shitty culture. It is bad planning. But it suppose it was inevitable given the fact that what we did was many short projects instead of one long project.

I don't overwork myself. I usually arrive at school at 11 in the morning, and then stay until 10 in the evening. I've made a decision to call it quits when I leave school for the tube. If I'm not in school, I don't work. And it works, because I'm spending most of my time in school, anyway. And when you're in school, headphones on, and focus. I take few breaks. I don't talk much. I work. All work and no play, you might say, but I play when the day is over.


Proof of Production

Open Week is almost over, at least the "open" part of it. School is empty, little noise, most go home to work from home, or to celebrate. Me, I'm just boring, the kind of person who can't stop thinking. Architecture is like a terminal disease; once you get it, it will stay with you until the end, and, in the case of Kisho Kurokawa, it became the end itself. My teacher made the decision to showcase the whole unit's work, not just our own, but I think it's, like I said before, still an honour to be there and represent. (Cash, money, cash cash, money.)

Tony Vidler turned out to be a nice chap. He mentioned iterations as a combination of possible ideas between the units, but sadly, we didn't have time to answer him, seeing as the teachers like to talk (a bit too much). I wrote the text for the presentation, together with its moment of burning-the-drawings, at least figuratively, with the big "NO!" at the end. Yesterday, I had the opportunity also to learn of M4SONIC's remix of Empire of the Sun's "Alive", which balances on that fine line between saturated garbage dumb-step and fantastic clubland euphoria. Not that I go to clubs these days, like I said, I'm far too boring for that. I had some good times in the past, I don't need more.

The only thing I want to say
glimmers out of reach
like the silver
at the pawnbroker's.



Missed a dinner with Ben van Berkel (of UN Studio fame) and spent the evening learning how to render depth of field techniques in Maya. Apparently there are two ways to do it: the simple-but-oh-so-inefficient method, and the more complex-but-intuitively-powerful method. Tomorrow: tutorial and lecture day, with technical studies peppered across the hours with lectures in important things that we have to pay attention to (or so we've been told).

Last time I met my teacher, I was assuming the worst, because I had hardly worked the day before. Not that I didn't want to, but I decided (for some reason) to work from home, which is about as efficient as telling a tired man he can't sleep, and then putting him in a bed store. This time, I come prepared. I have a barge! A floating city, whatever. But before you all yell: done before! remember that there's always a twist to what I'm doing. So, instead of pursuing just one concept, I indulge in a parallax.

Also: tube strikes. Long, messy journeys by bus to the heart of the city, but my home is silent and still. J-pop in my ears, along with German schranz (whatever that means). Now, time for bed. Stay strong, stay true.



Taking a day at home, a thinking-day, as opposed to the many drawing-days and panic-days I've had at school. I had a review two days ago, I had the honour of being the first one to present. The critics were quite harsh. The first thing one of them said when I finished was: "your text is the best thing you have." I kept a calm face, but inside I felt rather cross. That text was slammed together the night before and printed that very morning, possibly two hours of work, whereas the drawings had taken days, weeks ... we also managed to piss off our teacher, to the extreme, by not being present at 9:30 for the pre-pinup preparations. In my defence, I was at school already at 9:10, but misunderstood and thought we'd meet in the studio space as usual. Oh well, you live and learn. See? With all my excursions into the architectural cliché, I'm becoming a cliché myself.

It's not that I don't like my project, I just feel a bit confused after the crit on my direction. I've learned now that I can't rely on my drawing skills to put out a decent product, since these teachers have seen better drafters than me. What they look for is an argument, a thesis, and to tell the truth to have something new to say in a school that has seen it all is difficult. Or perhaps that's beside the point: that everything has a precedent, and it is only by knowing them in advance that you can think of something new to say. We're all terribly scared of being just rehashes of a discussion that seemed bland already ten years ago. It's the stereotype again, haunting us.

Tomorrow's time for Technical Studies again, and a tutorial with our teacher. As always, produce more! Think more! Push it, ram it and push it again! I wonder, if I become a teacher, if I would demand the same thing. Probably. Yes. Definitely.


Parsnip, Carrot & Beetroot

Time to go home, again. The hour is nearing ten, after a long and productive day of cutting through Photoshop. My plan is to have an absolutely huge drawing for the crit next week. Yes, I mean huge. Like, two A0:s stuck together. Perhaps it will be too big for me to handle. Dunno. Whatever I do, I want it to be a cliché, even though that word is overused, in my case. My tutorial today was not what I expected, which I've come to expect lately. Met with Brett Steele (the dean) in the staircase while going to Pret for an evening sandwich and some crisps. We chatted for a short while, he hoped to be able to come for the crit, as well, which would be fun. Brett is great. He reminds me of Abelardo Gonzalez in Lund, another dean who did so much for the school he loved. Without Abelardo, I would never be where I am today, that's for sure.

Tomorrow I will stitch together a draft of what I want to present, and decide on what needs to be done in the remaining time - drawing, raytracing, modelling ... everything. Everything needs to be done. Always.


11 to 10

Towards the evening, yesterday's model day emanated into another drawing day, and so I've spent my hours today as well. I'm such a cliché (and I want it to be that way). Tomorrow is the first lecture on our Technical Studies for 4th year, I will be busy from ten until three-thirty, trying to grasp how a building actually works, with tech and energy and form and everything we don't do in fourth year in the studio. A friend in the studio picked the same courses as me, so we will see each other tomorrow morning. Think I need a coffee to be alert and ready for the occasion.

Rachmaninoff preludes and noise-rock remind me of times far from this. I think my piano teacher deliberately gave me scores I could never play, so I would have something to practice on for the rest of my life. But that's okay. I'm happy for the things I have, such as my health, my sanity (I hope) and my stable right hand. Tomorrow, after the tutorial, I will finish my drawing and then on Saturday it's back to modelling again.


What is your project?

First day of school, and back to tutorials (split into two groups this time). I find it interesting to see what others are doing, and I definitely like more when many people participate and come with suggestions, not just your teacher. That's something I would like to suggest to Tak & Ana from last year, to really encourage others to have a sort of round-table discussion about each one's work, at least once a week. That way, students learn to be critical not just of their own project (which one can easily scrutinize too diligently) but of architecture in general.

First day of school, and I'm already working until late ... but I feel that it is better to come with something big to the tutorial, rather than just spreading out the pages and go: here's my project, take it or leave it. I will print an A1 with my combined drawings tomorrow morning for the tutorial, and hopefully we can fill it with lots of scribbles, notes and changes to bring the project forward. Other than that, I'm enjoying a Pad Thai late lunch with friends, some chocolate from Spain, some cake from London and some home-squeezed orange juice. Unfortunately, it seems like my critical writings on the solumnaut-blog will suffer the following months, but I promise to dedicate at least one day a week to advancing my dissertations on the weird world of architecture. Until next time, sleep well!


Back to London

Reminder emails received from the school, my new passport acquired, drawings I work on step by step, thoughts I collect (because I will not have time to collect them later), optional tutorials offered on Friday, while I will still be in Sweden. For the most part, our lives just go on as they do, and no dreams can be pursued when the sky is grey. Throw my habits in the waste bin, thinking of new phrases to come, while I let go of old ones. Technical Studies for the fifth years; when you don't know what to do, just make more of the same. The gardens are still in doubt. I will drive to Copenhagen and back again, if I can show you what I've found in between.

I used to love a girl I couldn't have. Too old for me, or maybe too young for her. We were just teasing each other, but I spell her name in dreams, her name which I will never forget. Winter has no snow so far, and summer will have no sun.



Drawing my way through the early days of the new year, not that I *have* to draw, but I need to make sure I don't get caught in too much thinking and writing. A student needs more than one leg to stand on, that's why my teacher wants me to do models as well, and I will, when I get back to school. I figure the best thing is to do what I can at home to advance my project, and then proceed in a different direction under supervision. After all, models are (still) unknown territory to me. I'm going back to London on the 11th, precisely a week from today, and school starts on the 13th. Better draw as much as I can until then. For now, I will post my drawings on a separate blog, the tumblr to the right with the title "illustrations." Enjoy as much as you like.