Well, the problem with architecture is that it’s a long process. Many of the bigger projects that we have — and even the smaller ones — tend to take three years minimum but they can also go on for five or 10 years. So there is no real single defining moment in the way that there sometimes is with other creative processes. It’s not like in theater, where you think, “Okay, tonight’s the opening night,” and then you all go out for a drink afterwards. A building is progressively being completed, even on the day of the opening! I think the point when you can really stand back is a little bit later, maybe one year later.
Originally asked
The Creative Independent, to working artists, its interview series
A repeated process question in The Creative Independent, asked across visual art, music, writing, performance, and mixed media.
You answer as yourself. Nobody on FLAPSS answers as anybody else.
Alec Niedenthal, New Routes in Fiction: NEEL PATEL with Alec Niedenthal, The Brooklyn Rail, 1 March 2019 source ↗
Others on this question
View all 67 →I’ll taste it, taste it, taste it, taste it. I ask myself, “How can I make it better? It needs more whatever, salt, vanilla.” Taste it again, again, and again until I think, “Okay, this is it. Let’s not mess with it anymore.” Then I’ll taste it one final time and be like, “Okay, add a percent. Just increase it by one more percent, just a little bit more.” For example, salting a ganache, I’ll salt, salt, salt, salt, salt; taste it. Okay, it can use a little bit more salt. And then I’m like, “Okay, it’s good now.” And then, at the very final moment, I’m going to put a little bit more salt. Walk away. That’s good. Whatever it may be.
When I’m exhausted with it, you know, when my obsession with the thing becomes diluted and I want to do something else. [Or] having created a sufficient mess… where I can’t add anymore, I need to peel back. And then, of course I am lucky enough to have an editor, to turn a project loose and then we’ll go from there. It’s different for every project. No book that I have written has taught me how to write the next one. I feel like a baby every time I start a new book. Like I’ve never done this before, and I have to figure it out from scratch each time.
Sometimes it’s about time. When the completion is dictated by some kind of deadline-based condition, then I feel like I know it’s done when there’s the right balance of things in the work. Sometimes that means having to remove a chapter or a figure or a whole set of ideas from the work because there wasn’t enough time and space for all of those things to be treated with equal sensitivity and care, or because keeping every element in the mix would obfuscate or dilute what was at the core of the work. To help me arrive at a state of “doneness” or resolution, I do have a few people that I trust and share my work with. You have to be able to take criticism, ideally from comrades and colleagues whose values are aligned with yours. It’s not just about what it looks like, but trying to understand how a project can help me evolve larger guiding principles.
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