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The final review is the well-known, cautiously anticipated endgame for the student of architecture; the lonely gazelle steps up in front of the row of (too often male) toothy lions lying lazily back in their shitty folding chairs, still picking their teeth from the last devouring, sipping coffee, trying their best to look disinterested.They have carefully calibrated their postures of indifferent intimidation over years of practice. Most versions of it are sad.This is why, I suspect, architects most often wear black.It’s like a sad funeral parade of too-serious, black-clad mourners moving from station to station in search of all the cracks in the work that can be exploited, putting them quickly to bed. “This is where it falls apart”, “You could have done ____”, “This is not a thesis”. The sleepy students (after an incredibly unhealthy lack of rest) can barely follow the reviewers’ comments, even if their brains weren’t edging on fugue state. They are underfed (on mostly cheap, brown-colored things) and improperly bathed. Quite the series of insurmountable hurdles to a learning moment.

Most review spaces in my experience are, oddly enough, much wider than they are deep… this makes the already too-populous panel of critics seem to stretch infinitely in either direction. And notice next time if you will, the ends of the row of critics seem to pinch in toward the work, as if to trap the prey inside. This format of review seems to beg authority (at least formally): critics are seated, united in authoritative judgment of the student (who stands); the audience sits behind the critics, facing the same direction (the student faces them all)… one could expect to find this spatial organization in a kangaroo court.......Continue Reading

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