Architectural volume sets me free. Something about the measured, decisive nature about the act of building seems to leave me in a calm state of mind. Event imagined architecture or music evoking vast spatial configurations affect me in this way. The oppresive void-weight of contained spaces frees my mind, as if its unfelt, but persistently imagined pressure is required to keep my thoughts together, to crystallize my brain and soul into a state of peaceful creativity. I wonder if this is a mere reminder of the only dream I can remember from my childhood: A gargantuan black ball of infinite mass and heaviness rolling or falling, ever coming close to destroy a small potted plant, but – to the best of my knowledge – never actually doing so. I remember the feeling of tremendous weight converging with total weightlessness. Complete stasis, black float.
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