Architecture Is a Ficus

Jan Vondrák, 1/25 (Short text for the book Translating: Architecture)

Architecture is people, their stories, and all those little details that make our day a day. It is the backdrop of our lives, which makes about as much sense without us as an expensive coffee machine without coffee beans. Step into a world where the boundary between grand structures and human experience blurs, and where everything belongs to a single whole—from our ambitious ficus tree down to a well-deserved glass of beer at the bar...

Architecture is the morning alarm clock, unapologetically slicing through the silence of the night to announce a new day. Heavy eyelids pull apart, eyes staring at a century-old ceiling. Morning rituals permeate the historic apartment with its creaky parquet floors and drafty windows, through which the cold street air seeps in, offering advice on what to wear today.

Architecture is the commute to the studio, watching pedestrians navigate the morning city in a daze, reading the scenes unfolding against the backdrop of historic buildings. Melting snow clinks against old, ornate gutters, and signs reading "Beware of Falling Ice!" guide my way to work among icicles shattering on the granite pavement.

Architecture is what happens behind the doors of our office. It’s the people who help us bring our ideas off the paper and into reality—they deserve a huge thank you. It’s also the projects into which we pour a piece of our hearts and sacrifice a non-trivial part of our lives. Architecture is the ficus tree in our studio that has grown so tall its highest branches touch the vaulted ceiling, as if trying to gently stroke it.

Architecture is the contexts into which we design our projects. The backdrops of history and nature help us remember what truly matters. Architecture is the relationships between people and the things around us. Architecture includes the local places we try to shape so we can live well, as well as the distant ones we design for our clients to bring them joy in life.

Architecture is a full glass of beer at our bar and a skinny, laughing boy in swim trunks. He just got out of the water and is wolfing down a hot dog at a small swimming pool we're waking up from a long sleep.

Architecture is the scent of an apartment after a freshly finished dinner, cutlery clinking against an empty plate, and the tiny candle flame flickering one last time before the wick finally drowns in the wax. Architecture is the people through whose presence buildings and places come alive.

Architecture is us, our lives, and our memories. Without us, all the buildings in the world would be nothing more than worthless stones stacked on top of one another.