“It may seem counterintuitive to argue that happiness and business have anything to do with each other, since for most people work is at best a necessary evil, and at worst, a burden. Yet the two are inextricably linked.” Good Business, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, p.21
2011/06/08 – Something happens, every day, everywhere and imposes itself on everyone save a few, resolute folks who won’t succumb to it and look for something more.
2011/06/07 – He teetered, constantly, between who he is and what the world wanted him to be.
2011/04/22 – Something uneasy hovers above the human condition, never revealing itself unless someone takes the initiative to seek it out.
2011/04/21 – Having hit the reset button, I remembered playing video games when I was younger and hitting the reset button a third of the way through the game meant that I had a lot to catch up on, but at least I knew where everything was.
2011/04/20 – I am 26 years old and I have hit the reset button.
2011/04/19 – Sweat poured from his wands; everything slipped from his grip.
2011/04/18 – Don’t think a cube is a just a cube, it’s stupid, no, it’s very powerful.
2011/04/17 – Everything stopped, time included, and he paused to take notice of what was in front of him.
2011/04/16 – Creativity, emotion, and improvisation unwound his patience.
2011/04/15 – What is this madness / How can you slow down time / Water overcomes.
2011/04/14 – My sentence is late but at least my period is when it should be.
2011/04/13 – Two bits of advice for you, old boy, for in this moment I see you lost and in pursuit of guidance: be patient, get laid.
2011/04/12 – What a sucker, always putting off what’s important for today till tomorrow, never realizing that if today always pays for tomorrow, then today is always spent.
2011/04/11 – Days gone by, thoughts creep up, and I wonder, does the difficulty subside or does it remain, always, unceasingly, into the dark?
2011/04/10 – What relief it is to dance, to take part in that most primal thing when rhythm and movement become one and the same and the world dissolves into a blissful mist of kinesthetic sounds.
2011/04/09 – I listened with a watchful eye, saw with a discerning ear, realizing the desperation that clawed at the surface.
2011/04/08 – A man and woman, old together more than forty years, young together twice as long, left, the woman before the man, she because of the certainty that he would go, one day soon, he because he had no reason to stay the day after she went, both because their souls intertwined and could only exist as complements, two parts of a whole.
2011/04/07 – Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, I awake each day, thinking that tomorrow I will awake, but tomorrow may not come, tomorrow will not come some day, so today, what will I do to plan for tomorrow?
2011/04/06 – Thump, thump, rhythm drop, feet back and forth, hippitty hop, what if it’s the same beat for life and you never let it stop?
2011/04/05 – A shroud of silence, a soft blanket of calm and peace, a moment of rest, and then, an explosive stillness errupts.
2011/04/04 – It was her milky white skin that did me in.
2011/04/03 – Bruised and turning around, turning and turning, he never found what he so eagerly sought, an outstretched hand, up turned, palm open, offering what he had never had.
2011/04/02 – His brow turned up in hope, and then, his eye filmed over with a tear, full of despair, released the first droplet of happiness the barren floors had seen in 52 fallow years.
2011/04/01 – Things move on, go on, go forward, they continue, with no regard for me, without asking what I think about that, they just simply progress onward, forward, upward in seemingly predetermined directions without thinking about what the next step might mean.
2011/03/31 – There were days when he got tired, few and far in between, but on those days the exhaustion was heavy and full like a balloon slowly filling with water, stretching and choking at the next as the feet pulled further and further down, and he had no one to turn to, no release, no small puncture to let off some of the burden, and so he stretched and stretched and sank deeper and each time, it was more difficult than the last to get back to his original shape.
2011/03/30 – Jump, JUMP little one, keep jumping and never stop lest you be ready to know that when you stop jumping, the world will continue bobbing up and down and you won’t know the difference, you won’t understand why it never stops, confusion will stump you at every bob, BOB BOB, but, all too tired you’re little jumping legs will be, and powerless to stop the jumping world you’ll be, so JUMP JUMP, and never stop!
2011/03/29 - The older he got, the faster time slipped through his fingers, like sand through a sieve, and the less each second, like each grain, seemed significant; only the whole of the coastal sands mattered, some parts more tame than others, some glazed instead of sandy from brilliant lighting bolts marking their stay on his course, the amalgam overwhelming and too much to take in or willingly give up.
2011/03/28 – In a sudden outburst of confusion, I accidentally bit into my phone thinking it was a sandwich and was surprised to find a digital byte rather than a delicious one.
2011/03/27 – He hid under his mothers dress, shy yet curious, eyes twinkling with the delight of discovery of the world around him, the same sparkle of joy that, thirty years later, would light an otherwise bleak and meager existence.
2011/03/26 – Alone in the rain, under a downpour of second guessing, the first thought of freedom leaves for the last time.
2011/03/25 - Every day, write a new page and rise / Rage against the winding, blinding, burning, twisting-nonexisting problem / You / Step to the side, let the universe’s tide ride by / and / STOP / Don’t try / Subside actively into the passivity of tranquility and be guilt free when jealousy leaves those once close pleading longingly for what they ought to be and you’ve become.
2011/03/24 – I sit, marking the seconds on the clock ticking by, one after the other, like the granules of sugar slipping into my tea each morning, melting away into the tepid chaos of milky swirls, turning and slowing from the tumult of youth to the peaceful rest of reflection on years gone by.
2011/03/23 – I watched a woman’s mouth stammer uncontrollably today, her lips flapping noiselessly in the wind of a lost voice, her words jailed behind fading eyes, imprisoned by old age.
This page contains my most recent work from the University of Oregon M.Arch Option III program. Though it is my formalized portfolio, I consider the entirety of this site to be a living, breathing portfolio that allows me to create both a catalogue of the work that I have generated and a timeline of my progress as an architect and designer. Please consider all aspects of benjamenprager.wordpress.com (aside from the link to others’ work) as an extended portfolio of my development or perhaps merely my process.
On the left: Process models lend a physical reality to imagined ideas in a 3 dimensional, analog format. As part of the design process they are invaluable and allow me to quickly think through multiple solutions and discard the irrelevant or inappropriate ones. Photographing those same study models allows me to mix media to do light studies and further explore the intersection of 3 dimensional representation and 2 dimensional thinking.
On the right: Site photography divulges better understanding of the essence of place for design studios. It also illuminates ideas about the quality of light available in the immediate and surrounding site context.
Center (top): Fall 2010 studio assignment – Community School of Music (see short description located in upper right hand corner of center top panel; curriculam vitae and statement of intent for GTF positions for the 2011-2012 academic year are also posted here)
Center (bottom) Winter 2010 studio assignment – Mexican Academy of Art in Portland (see short description in upper left hand corner of center bottom panel)
A view of the Granville Street Bridge from the seating area outside the public market on Granville Island reveals “the long way home” to the suites on Davie Street. It also reveals that bike travel on Vancouver Island goes counterclockwise unless you like belligerent natives yelling at you as you walk your bike back on the wrong side of the bridge.