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15 February 2017
London

Wallace: ‘I am telling you… There’s a loose screw in this system and the grange is poking my ear drum.’
John: ‘You dope, what’s wrong with you? Why are we talking about screws?’
Wallace: ‘Screw politics. Screw ideologies. Screw form and no form.
Oh, and guess what - strange screwing happens at night.’

Screws are important indeed…? Well, at least for now. The humblest of components, the thing which keeps other, bigger things together - the screw.

How come words carry metaphorical meanings, linguistic structural dualities and architecture elements don’t anymore?

I once hallucinated of this tiny metallic bit whose clockwise action generated a screeching sound; hallucinated its form transforming into a vicious octopus or some sort of hyper flubber bouncing around destroying the two planks it previously forced facing each other. At one point it turned into a yellow turd with thin black stripes, a fragmented pixel which lost its purpose, a checkered horseshoe which flew across the room like a boomerang swooping back to hit me – some years later I was becoming the screw.

There's a current stance about the importance of details in architecture, especially when things to be made are complex and difficult to imagine. Yet is this some sort of diplomatic protocol to regain the lost prestige of the Architect in a world of uprising specialists - and if such importance is highlighted now, how can we keep this relevant if construction techniques are to evolve in a 100 years. How can we find ways to physically embed this knowledge into the building corpus, and how can this knowledge go beyond its initial purpose into a world of semiotics, language and metaphor to survive.

… and those hallucinations turned into a gaze towards some bizzare future, in which screws and other latent elements lodged new forms of architecture as ornate linguistic etymologies of a glorious past, like ghosts stored in a theatre of irony or transforming into ridiculous anomalies of some romantic’s vision washed under the mellow lunar light of a Post-Something Nostalgia.