The unimagined structure.

Life can be dull sometimes; mundane, routine and downright uninteresting. Sometimes it can feel as though life consists of nothing more than work, travel and chores - life's unholy trinity of necessities in all their glory; the mortar that holds the bricks together. Necessary, maybe, but it is hard to ignore the obvious; that mortar is a gritty, grey substance more often that not - a substance as unappealing as it is essential.

Yet essential it is; it cannot be avoided so all that remains is to compensate - to strive to overwhelm it, drown it out. All that is left is to pick the most eye-catching bricks with which to build; then step back, step away until you see the the finished structure, the bigger picture. Hopefully you are happy with what you see when you retreat, gain perspective; when it is observed in its entirety. Hopefully there is enough colour, sufficient shades of dark and light and a multitude of provocations and memories to drown out that drab, unappealing mortar.

Some souls build quickly, work through the night to erect towering skyscrapers to greet you as you open your eyes and welcome the new day. They construct glittering monoliths in the blink of a moment; intricate, compelling structures which make you gasp, hold the breath fast in your throat as your eyes follow them heavenwards, mesmerise you as they sparkle in the first rays of a fresh morning's sun. Others build warm hostels, welcoming taverns complete with cosy snugs and private nooks in which to take shelter when the night's chill descends and banks of fog roll in from the ocean. These places are filled with flickering light, with bawdy laughter - and they sustain in a different way, warm my heart in a different way to those glittering, towering skyscrapers that surround them.

As for me, the jury is still out on what I am constructing. The only thing of which I am certain is that I build at a slow, often painstaking pace. I level each brick by hand; place it with care as I step back to critique it - to analyse and fret over the combinations of colour I see unfolding before me. I will stand and observe for some time; worry that I have placed too many darks together and that people will stand in the shadows of my structure, feel no warmth, no light. I fear that all will be felt are the cold draughts; the chills from the shade cast by my creation as it creeps ever upwards - layer upon layer of increasingly dark bricks which block out the sun rather than embrace it; which offer a place of cool, quiet contemplation within; walls lined with confessional booths of dark wood. I fear that there will be no wide open plaza, no space to laugh and dance in the dazzling, refracted light that spills, splits and bounces from any polished, mirrored elevations.

In the past I have looked around at the structures sitting close to this site on which I work. I have looked at what is being built by my neighbours and envied them their chrome, their steel, their curtain glazing and their high-level skyline vistas. There have been times when I wanted such a structure to be my legacy; a structure defined by light, by air - one which reflected the sun so intensely that it could not be viewed without shelding the eyes. At other times I wished to be defined by the warmth and acceptance of the hostels, the raucous laughter of the taverns. Instead I built this place, continue to add to its walls and build upwards, upwards; never contemplating the completion or the crowning of this glory with a roof, a covering to mask my view of the clouds, the stars. There is an occasional hint of colour here but often it sits deep, hidden as mere flecks in walls shaded in sable, midnight blue, storm grey. It is not the structure I envisaged when I first arrivied in this space, but I find myself accustomed to it now, find myself comfortable here; secreted away in this cool and private place, hidden by those towering proclamations which surround; which draw the eye and let me be, let me work.

I will continue to build slowly, build at this comfortable and necessary pace. I will not regret my lack of speed nor strive to explode upwards; to announce my presence to the heavens with fireworks, with searchlights that pierce the night. Instead I will stay close to this earth, lay my bricks and search for the colour in these walls. When the noise outside overwhelms and the heat threatens to devour, come find me if you would like. When you crave the shade, the cool touch of dark wood under your bare feet or the contemplative whispers of this long hall, you will find my door open. I will be here, building slowly, shaping bricks from yesterday, today; fixing them with the unavoidable mortar and stepping back, observing. Questioning still, wondering still.