Instagram can doom a new born architectural delight into a cliché in a matter of months, if not weeks or days. Yesterday I went to the Oculus and Fulton Street Station anyways, captured a number of goodies, happy to have them in my collection.
Our love of swirling rafters, spiraling staircases and vanishing lines is proof, I think, that we are not special in this universe, for we are surrounded by those very patterns in the natural world. It makes sense that we adore what we came from.
Our brains glow when we identify patterns. We've made it our primary business as humans to create this sense of order in our world. Calendars and clocks––pretty much everyone has these tools to chart the patterns of time. And in music, for example, the joy of moving from verse to chorus to verse again...it's a hit! Narrative literature or movies or television shows? They are experiences of time.
But what's the best is that there are patterns in chaos, and the scientists and thinkers who discovered and were able to explain them spent a lot of time staring at turbulent bodies of water or trying to predict the weather.
That there's some order inherent in chaos is far more comforting to me than our ability to build a staircase in the shape of the galaxy we inhabit. . . . but of course I like those too.