Much has already been written about architectural ignorance. About the saturation with architecture - much less. It is not clear which is weirder.
There used to be a culture journalist on Polish Radio who pronounced the very word culture on invisible knees for the listener. She never spoke to Wajda other than per master. Every guest did her "honor" with his arrival. The premiere of a film or a book was a "celebration." When I listen to such, I mutter some little rudeness under my breath for balance. She (slowly, on a breath): "Master, awesome are these master's nonsense." Master (through his nose): "Delighted to hear it, you cultured fujara." Balloon pierced. Not pretty, but I'm allergic to icing and even appreciate it. A good fuse to avoid getting nausea.
The passionate journalist, however, no longer produces on air and the phenomenon of editorial poetesses from culture in general is disappearing, as the culture departments in general are disappearing. Poetesses, always on the inhale, inhaled artistry and established media salons - those islands in the ocean of "progressive vulgarization." They did culture both well and so to themselves. On the one hand, they popularized, on the other - they made culture a bloated service. But rather, they are over. And since nature does not like a vacuum, it found new niches - among them, self-presentations of some architects, their projects and realizations. Icing, poetry and piety are manifested here just as abundantly. Some designers of houses, interiors and furniture have taken to marketing hits and advertise in such a way that sometimes you don't know what you're reading about: a new restaurant, a vacuum cleaner, a car, or design, however.
Three nouns lead the way in this architecture and marketing candy: belief, inspiration and passion. Out of the adjectives stand out: unique, innovative and - forgive me, I must, out of chronicling duty - dedicated. "Passion" is key, however, and this applies to basically everything today - in every field. "My/their passion is cooking, walking, sightseeing, yawning, etc., etc." - we commonly read today in biographical notes, self-presentations and advertisements. Soon we will learn that someone's passion is breathing and visiting the toilet. Everything, and therefore the designs of houses, interiors and furniture, today are not the fulfillment of an order, a response to such or such a need, the performance of necessary activities, but are the result of passion with a capital P, also sometimes referred to as love.
"It is out of love for unique solutions that our innovative projects dedicated to specific audiences are created." Well, and we have a culprit. It's love that's responsible for, for example, the designs of microcapsules. Anyway, I congratulate the courage of the investors. Passion, however, is a bit of madness and a certain amount of incalculability, and love is already a register that does not fit into rational categories. It used to be that from an architect you wanted such silly things as experience, talent, sensitivity and numeracy. All wrong. The most important things are passion and love. And faith. "We believe that design is a synthesis of experience gained and sensitivity to context." Well, do you know or do you believe? Either-or. Gods are believed in because no one has experimentally confirmed them. So whoever believes that his design "combines the creative and economic aspects" has clearly not yet made that connection.
And finally, "inspiration". "We are inspired by the unique stories of places and innovative solutions." Read: inspiration is an investor's tables or an Instagram picture. Of course, not always, not everywhere, not with everyone, but if you sometimes separate the project from its colorful description, it comes out that the real inspiration was the miserable working conditions that Polish architects are driven to - note, poor play on words - passion.
So one looks at the various realizations and then juxtaposes them with the author's poetry laced with a mention of some pooh-poohed award and - through dissonance - it gets funny. Almost like the case of an online translator from Polish to developer (and vice versa), which has appeared on the web just as I am writing this text (there are no coincidences, only signs). This translator converts developers' and flippers' newspeak into concrete information. Very funny and very true, I recommend playing with it, if it still works.
So, architects are pouring lajfstayl-marketing incantations and - actually, in the current realities of practicing the profession - it's hard to chastise them for grasping at this razor. Except that it goes further. Their texts are reproduced vividly, without processing or checking, by media workers and influencers of various sorts. They make architecture and design into a service along the lines of the programs of a very cultured journalist. One in which only things spectacular, expensive and signed by well-known names are talked and written about. The devotees are growing. Until I hear this "master" uttered by some hypothetical influencer figures dressed, let's say, in trenchcoats, hats and bow ties, because it seems to them that about architecture you simply can't. These are people from the same litter as the famous Boguś Kaczyński (I recommend a book about this type by Bartosz Żurawiecki). The kind that do the cause of architecture and well, and so to themselves. On the one hand they popularize, on the other - they arrange an inbreeding mystery with themselves in the leading role.
Meanwhile, the conversation about Polish architecture service and priests is not needed at all, although some will continue to practice this conference-media baroque. So how about less poetry and more concrete: topics far removed from glamour, business, Instagram and weirdly conceived politics? Anna Cymer recently wrote at her Facebook page, encouraging people to see the exhibition at the capital's Zodiac: "I don't understand why the housing crisis isn't being thundered about everywhere, and why this sick system hasn't been blown up yet." I don't understand it either, but, as you can see, we'd rather fuss over a spectacular Warsaw museum. And with this ever-present note, I conclude the text dedicated to you. I wrote it out of a passion for collecting a poem, believing in the provisions of the work contract and inspired by the Polish language and the Latin alphabet.
Jakub Głaz
Read more: A&B 3/2025 - INTENT,
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