Julius Schwartz

How can the existing be perceived as more open? How can the already there make room for new interpretations? How can the solidly built become ever-changing? Maybe the most direct form of perceiving it has to be altered. Maybe the connection, the linking and occasional merging of spaces, of images, of colors and shapes, as it did not occur before and as it will not occur again, can make room for all stories and all annotations and all interpretations of itself. Maybe it is light that has to be dense, in order for us to live so. Like a phototropic organism, the house grows toward the light - and with it its people. Stretching for the sun, a new skin wraps the old. Turning outside to inside, making cold rooms warm and giving everyone their own space in the light. Like a tide - drawn by lightness - they flush through the house. Through the existing and through the new, morning to night, today to tomorrow and summer to winter. They spread and squeeze, they collide and merge and compromise, they breathe and see. And so do their perceptions. Until the house is filled.