I believe in architecture as a stage for human life; I believe in architecture as a object to root our fragile corporeal existence in the land of wilderness and nature; I believe in the architecture of memories, where echoes of civilization rebound through its walls through time though place. In its essence I believe in Architecture as a wormhole to transport, transfigure and transform. I open the door and the creak of floorboards betray my entry. “Ming-Ming? Why are you up” “I had a nightmare. Giants were chasing after me.” The edge of rafters gleam slightly from light spilling in from windows, there’s a street lamp out, I climb into the double bed beneath the sheets, and the soft scent of wood mixed with my parent’s laundry detergent lulls me back to sleep. It was a day of rain, heavy rain, I could see the droplets hit the ground and burst into flowers of water. The terrazzo floors were drenched a shade darker than normal. “We should run, right?” “It’s the only way.” We crash through puddles, our trainers drenched to the sock, rain pells the fabric of our pure white uniform translucent, my feet hit
the paving of the corridor and lose traction, we slip, crashing together into the white paint wall. The wall was so cold, the floors so wet, I laughed but the rain was so loud I could only see the heaving of your chest and that dark half-moon crescent smile. Sometimes I lean against a damp wall in rain and go back to that day.
I can’t go back to that place. I can’t. Why? Because I go back and bump into you. Bump into me. Bump into the ghosts of who we once were and the dreams we once dreamed. Isn’t that a good thing? Is it?
Sometimes I forget the shape of a room but remember how voices vibrate along its walls.
and erecting it, and I know that when in a building made with love, one can never — never be alone. So let time write its name on the wall, and child, take your marker and write it too, and lover, spray paint this house with curse words in your anger. For a building is to be lived in, loved in, lost in. And when a thousand years later they peel back the paint on the walls, they will find layers,
layers upon layers of us.
The PVAC, the wiring, the waterproofing m a t e r i a l s , soundproofing materials and insulation behind this wall is what makes up for its thickness. I look at the wall and think of all the hands that went into drawing it padding it
SELECTED WORKS
2023-2025
MING-MING TAN