To live a good life is to combine states of pleasure and knowledge. Those who attempt to live this life are called amateurs, coming from Greek ερασιτέχνης: the combination of “love” and “craft.” These are people who search for meaning within a genuine love of things, undertaking efforts of both unmeasurable hedonism and quantifiable rigor.
To produce an Amateur Architecture, we must construct it as elusively as “I’ll know it when I see it.” It is possible for the discipline of Architecture to occupy a space between incident and intention. For the amateur, this type of Architecture is the last resort: a space that enables both freedom and structure.
An Amateur Architecture allows us an agility within our disciplinary canon. It remembers what it was like to rigorously do things for the love of them. It is a reminder of the vulnerable, authentic, and personal endeavor that cannot be concealed or replicated.
The best swordsman I ever knew
Was a dedicant to his craft.
All foes he met, he readily slew
Should they dare to cross his path.
Until one day someone appeared:
An opponent he couldn’t beat.
The only person he feared,
To whom he’d admit defeat.
Not an expert, nor a master
Could beat the greatest in the land.
No, the one who spelled disaster
Never held a sword in his hand.