Architecture and the True Self

One lovely day in 1994, my wife and children and I had lunch at a café near one of the chateaux in the Loire region of France. The café was adjacent to an expanse of lawn with scattered trees. The usual gravel base lay beneath the outdoor tables that were shaded by umbrellas. For reasons I do not completely understand, I like the gravel in such settings; it brings me a kind of peace. It may be in part because the gravel absorbs surrounding sounds.

It was a sunny day, and I felt good. I drew the scene. In a state of relaxation usually associated with travel, I often sketch. The result, though amateur, is valuable to me as a memento of an event; it provides something personal. In sketching one has to take one's time, make observations, choose what seems to matter, make the marks on the page, and perhaps use a few dots of color from a watercolor box.

In such a circumstance, I feel free to express my true self. The main point I want to make in this essay is that certain architectural situations foster such expressions and are valued for that. What I have described is not a building; it is a space. But I suppose I could have found an example in the form of a building. What comes to mind are the book alcoves in a library where, as an undergraduate, I reviewed the semester's reading in preparation for final exams. It was a quiet location; the sound-deadening effect of the books may be analogous to the sound-deadening