The Intern: Part XI

Tuesday, 4th February 2014

David Weir Architects

Mosman Park, Western Australia, Australia

"Good morning, Mr Black. It's about three thirty in Mt Lawley, Perth. Western Australia. Just sitting in the computer chair; half-awake, half-asleep. Thinking about you. I was just wondering if you are looking after your most valuable possession - your mind."

Smooth tunes aside, you're not going crazy-town banana-pants: this edition of THE INTERN Writing Series is brought to you, fresh off the three day old presses, for the absolutely ridiculous time of three thirty in the morning. Marketers, put your research away - I know what I'm somewhat doing, for the more-or-less majority of the opposite of the time. With a sentence like that, you know that this ride will be exhilarating. Roger Ebert even gave this writing entry three and a half stars out of four. Where did the other half go? It went with my mind.

Delicious design development drawings.

To me, Tuesday felt like an eternity ago. While I like to do my writing after a day's work, it just wasn't possible with tight schedules to keep to. Unfortunately - or rather, fortunately - for you, Tuesday morning has become a gaping hole in my memory. I remember walking into the office, doing a bit of paperwork, and then lunch happened. I wasn't doing paperwork for three hours.

In absentia of Tuesday morning, I'm proud to present ... STRANGE ARCHITECTURAL TALES.

One dark night, you find that you've stumbled away from the road more travelled and into the trenches of mystery. Flashing lights guide you to nowhere. Sharp and blistering sounds echo from the abyss. The three-quarter moon removes itself from the cover of clouds and creates ambient light to guide your way. Trees come to motion from the moonlight and the soft, whispering wind. A storm is gathering. You clamber up a nearby tree to see if you could find anything that can act as salvation for your lonely soul.

In the distance - you see it! A light! It's a home! The warm hearth is a welcoming beacon to this weary traveller. Stumbling through the dead forest, you finally make it to the humble abode. Heavy footsteps bring your tired and battered body to the wooden door, where three audible knocks alert all residents to your plea. A scuffle. A twitch. A twist of the brass doorknob that separates each party. The door opens. A face appears. A flash of cold runs through your spine - you know this silhouette! It's ... it's ....

... David Weir.

It's been eleven instalments of THE INTERN Writing Series, and it's the first time I've ever felt confident in uploading a photo of the boss. Probably because it's the first one I've been able to capture that didn't involve cricket, phone calls or drawing. While I'm at it, I'm feeling quite fearless. Have another photo.

Laser measure devices are difficult. Batteries and stuff.

I'm going to cut to lunch. We decided that it was high time that we went to The Boulevard Hotel, a project that Dave had worked on in the past. If you ever go there, be impressed with the hanging lights, outdoor area, custom-built planter boxes, and the wood-textured walls. It's all Dave. General discussions regarding apartment buildings, logarithmic numbers and "freaks who draw maps for decades" [Lauren] ensued. Beers. Coffee. Did we have to go back to work? Absolutely.

Lessons in diagrammatic drawing techniques.

For the rest of the afternoon, I worked on a development application for a residence in Wembley Downs. Development Applications (colloquially: DA) are what I consider to be the Week Five Submission - we know there's going to be a bathroom there. We know that it's going to be this high and this wide. We know these things. But these things are subject to change. We're merely getting approval from the council and acknowledging that "Yes, you have Town Planning Schemes. We know this". It's important to remember that a Development Application is not a Building Permit. They involve different factors entirely.

I'll get more into those details at a later stage. As for now, I'm about to board a plane to Melbourne. Melbourne. The home of where everyone in Perth wants to live. I couldn't leave this week without an entry - despite heavy schedules - so here's something for three in the morning. No updates next week, so I'll be expecting to release THE INTERN: Interlude II, and hopefully complete the ALVAStudio write-up to be sent for approval by relevant university head honchos.

Where is my mind?