No. 160: The Polychromed House. It was as rough as a brick. He had come to abhor finish, detail, nuance and restraint. He sought the honesty of disarray, of accident, of the orphaned incident, the unheralded error, the sublime vulnerability of mishap. backlash, crust and crumble, the beauty of that comes to you "like late luggage suddenly placed in your hands" (Elaine Scarry, On Beauty and Being Just (Princeton University Press, 1999, p.16), being at play in the fields of spontaneity and excess. He knew, with a certain skewed joy, that His idol, theoretical architect John Hejduk, and his spiky, hair-raising House of the Suicide (1986) lay somewhere behind this cherished abject object of his. .

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