I opened the eyes in that room of yellow color. Around me, hundreds of books and notebooks were resting on furniture spread by the chaotic stay. Poe, Melville, Tolstoi or Maupassant were accumulated in unusual balance. The soil was replete with wrinkled sheets of paper, victims undoubtedly with some access of ire. I was lying on one of this beautifully divans designed by Jeanneret and Perriand.
-Good, gentleman. We can begin.
I turned the sight towards the place wherefrom the voice was coming. In the semidarkness I saw a relatively young man, of whose dark, abundant hair up to the excess and something untid, two populated sideburns were unhooked. I was smiling.
-Are comfortable you? – he asked.
My speaker was sat in a Fiberglass Chair, one of these chairs that You Chat and Ray Eames they designed in the fifties. I fixed my attention in his harmonic curvature, in the delicate forms that the glass fiber had acquired to get accommodated to the human body. An original piece, I concluded with certain delight. The man joined slowly and I could distinguish then his nose, his eyes and his mouth. In a fraction of second, his face was delineated to completed. It could not believe what had before my eyes: he was I itself!
-Yes, do not worry – I stuttered.
I decided not to say anything it brings over of the strange situation. Probably it was not any more than a dream or a hallucination, and in opposite case, how was this man going to believe, this other one? I preferred following the current up to verifying what class of delirium it had taken to me to the consultation of a psychoanalyst who had been transmuted into me itself. Yes, do not worry – I stuttered.
-Well – he said-. So you have come to treat of this troublesome obsession. His face me turns out to be familiar …
-I have a few very common features – I answered butcher-. I am ready to begin the treatment.
-In agreement, gentleman, though I prefer being calling it an interview. Let’s begin. First, it would like that you were describing his first recollection.
I breathed deeply before entering the game of this man.
-It is difficult – dije-. I remember a few wherries supported against a wall, and an inlet there below … to another side, a field which undergrowth invades the way … The Sun is high enough, there is a sharp smell of tar and glaze … It Is quite enough confused … I believe that it will be better than him do a drawing!
I gathered one of the papers from the soil, extracted a few felt-tip pens that it was taking in the pocket and planned a few lines. The psychoanalyst was taking notes and, every now and then, it was directing looks of disapproval for myself. I showed him the sketch.
-It seems that this does not work – he said contradicted, after a brief glimpse to the sketch-. We will try with another exercise. Center now, gentleman, in his happier recollection, in his moment of major nearness to the happiness. Put all his determination in transmitting this idea of paradise, do an effort of abstraction and me define it with so much detail since be possible.
-In agreement! – I answered keenly. To saying truth, good began to pass it – It me comes to the mind a table with two smoking coffees … There is a light breeze and I sit the smell of the leaves … distinction, on a plate, a piece of tart and beyond a few crumbs for which there fight two birds of the red intense one. It might assure that it is New York … but I have never been in New York! Everything returns to be confused …
After a few seconds, I began to draw again to show to this man the image that had revealed me as the paradise. In the end, I thought, who better than different I to help myself to solving the paradox?
The displeasure of this man seemed to increase as it was advancing the session. It looked at me with severity before seizing with evident irritation the leaf that was offering him and her to rest on the small table that had to his side – another Perriand’s delicate furniture, I observed-. Forthwith, it put in foot and began to speak while it was walking in circle along the room.
-Gentleman, I am ready to help him to overcome this rare his distaste the words, which it has derived in a sickly affection for the drawing. But I need a major cooperation for your part …
A coffee was served and gave to him a small sip, with solemn air. It looked at me from above during a few seconds, expecting to verify the effect of his words. Later, it was left to fall down again in his chair:
-Maybe be easier if you center in a phrase … – he said thoughtfully – it is! Say to me an appointment that should exist you memorized in some moment of his life and should not have been capable of separating of his mind since then. We all have a few.
-Certainly – I granted-. I remember a phrase of Borges, this who begins: A man proposes himself the task of drawing the world …
-Please! – it interrupted me – avoid to speak about drawing! Perhaps do not you think about another thing? I read in his curriculum that has studied architecture. I also … Go, and curiously, in the same dates that you … – observed thoughtfully – It is possible that enclosed we have coincided.
I tried to prevent him from noticing that we were the same person. I mentioned with rainfall the first phrase on architecture that me one came to the memory:
-I remember that one that said the teacher Scarpa: Only I can see the things if I draw them.
-Be kept silent! – it exclaimed – It is evident that you are a chronic patient … and, which is more serious, has achieved that the same obsession returns to show in me – it added with deep discouragement-. Yes, gentleman: before that you, I suffered the scourge of this delirium.
-I cannot believe it … – I answered with false surprise.
-Yes. Still I preserve some drawings of this that before was collecting in a sickly way. Look at this incredible drawing of Piranesi.
It extracted of his pocket a handful of wrinkled leaves. It separated them, extended one of them and, to the point, extended his arm towards me to show it to me.
-In his moment I managed to possess a considerable collection of drawings of Russian architects – it continued, melancholy-. See this Chernikhov’s marvel, take delight with the ostentation of virtuosity of Brodsky and Utkin …
During a few seconds, both we contemplate captivated the reproductions that the psychoanalyst had extracted of his pocket. Brodsky’s oneiric landscape was appearing to our eyes as response to the dramatic quality of the carceri of Piranesi, while Chernikhov’s bold lines seemed on the verge of rebelling against the statism of the paper …
-I preserve also this another Cedric Price’s drawing – it continued, without separating the sight of the leaves – Have, throw a glimpse.
The synthetic force of these scanty lines caught my attention since before they had done other images. I analyzed calmly Price’s sketch, at the time that it was proclaiming his mastery to alive voice. The psychoanalyst was looking at me now with approval.
-Good, gentleman – charm-. If I have to be sincere, I also guard in my pocket some prints.
Forthwith, I extracted a few leaves crumpled up of the pocket of my trousers. There were there sketches of Sverre Fehn, of Utzon and of Pietilä. There was even a drawing jack and other one of Sáenz de Oíza who did not remember to have guarded. It examined them thoroughly during several minutes until, suddenly, he said to me:
-If it does not matter for him, I would like to still have with these drawings that it did to you to the beginning of the session … For strictly professional motives, certainly.
-It is not possible, a gentleman – I answered with firmness-. I must take them to me. It turns out evident that you are not a psychoanalyst, so I will search a professional who puts remedy to this madness.
Actually, only it wanted to recover these drawings to add them a bit of color. It, I thought, it would improve the result. I took them without hesitations of the small table. Other one I looked at me, outlining a complaisent smile.
-Gentleman – said with serenity-, I am afraid that neither you nor I have remedy.
Borja López Cotelo. Doctor architect
A Coruña. february 2014