The Business of Designing Dreams: Christopher Nolan’s Inception by Alan Miller
One day during my architecture studies, a lecturer gave the game away. He said that the fun part of architecture, coming up with an idea for a building, was only about ten percent of the whole job. The dreary bit, the part after the initial thrill of creation, the part for which architects perpetually wear black in mourning and for which they are paid, is the part which takes up so much time that most architects find themselves giving up the fun part entirely, if only to save time. The ones who end up designing great buildings don’t resist their plight, but dive headlong into the reality of working drawings, doorknobs, hinges and balustrade details. Those who love architecture, but find themselves unfit to join the inner circle, where it is said acolytes literally kneel down before travertine skirting boards, might take heart from the career of Rem Koolhaas (who himself is in that circle, even as he gazes outside). In the mid-nineties, while designing a new headquarters for Universal Studios in Los Angeles, Koolhaas found the practice of architecture redefined right before his eyes. As the design progressed, it became clear that the client was having trouble committing themselves to a work of architecture. Their circumstances were in flux, and were changing too fast to be defined in concrete and glass. As a result the project remains unbuilt, but the experience taught Koolhaas that there was more to architectural practice than designing buildings, that the architectural design process itself had resulted in certain insights into the state of his client and the world which were of value with or without the final edifice.
