As a child I thought about the future constantly: I couldn’t wait to be a big kid, to be a teenager, to be an adult and to savou r the freedoms that come along with those statures. I adopted a posture of gazing towards the future with expectant eyes. I suspect that I am not alone in this.
The ideas of “goal” and “future” are tightly bound in my mind. In the (rare) moments when I achieve a goal, this thing that I have long associated with “future” suddenly becomes the present. This switch is surreal and confusing. Furthermore, the present moment exists only because of a long series of decisions made in the past.
Looking at a completed project, I can’t help but see the desires and interests I had while conceiving and creating it. I see the past. As someone who creates things, I can’t help but look at the objects that surround me, and consider how these things came into being and what their creators were thinking (for better or worse).
I love walking through the streets of the city I’ve spent my life in, New York, and looking at the buildings. Often, they strike me as visions of the future, dated from a certain moment in the past. One building represents the future, as seen in 1931, the next building embodies the future as seen in 1981. The future is full of the past and the past is full of the future. I expect to keep looking forward, and backward.