Call it delirium, call it words spoken in haste, criticise it, listen to it, throw it in the net of a virtual bin or even a real one; this piece of writing is a cry, a cry for architecture, an ode to her richness, a poem of disappointment and fear, a song for those who still have sensitive ears.
An award, the Stirling Prize, that destroys with hypocrisy the role of architecture turning it into a luxury and speculation pastime. A facade of glittering comments, publicity, glamour, in the face of those inherent values that make architecture as such.
The prize goes to the architecture of the spectacle, to empty opinions, elitist spaces and to what excludes in order to remain niche. If that’s what the Stirling Prize is meant to represent, it is really the prize to a society that has fully forgotten all human responsibility.
It seems to me that an award to those who practice an architecture that is ‘other’ does not exist because that is exactly what would make such hard work an exception.
Collage #3: ©Rossella Scalia