by Sandy Ikeda
I started reading Rem Koolhaas’s insightful but seemingly endless Delirious New York a couple of years ago and just finished it this morning. Why so long? Well, it’s partly because I don’t read so fast, but mostly because it’s maddeningly obscure, both its structure and prose.
Although it has a lot of interesting and important things to say about the “culture of congestion,” RK’s writing is as self-indulgent as his architecture. Architecture should not be art, non-fiction should not be (mostly) non-sense. Read the rest of this entry »
