I had often thought to myself that if I were to work anywhere in the U.S. after I graduate, my dream job would have to be somewhere in south Florida, not just because of the great atmosphere, but because on t.v. at least, it most closely resembled my homeland. This Christmas however, I overnighted in Miami en-route to St. Lucia and I discovered that other than the weather (and even this wasn't true during this particular juncture), there was very little similarity between the two places. Since my dad lives in Fort Lauderdale, an hour away from Miami, I got an opportunity to see a little more of the place during the drive to his home. I don't know why, but subconsciously, I always felt that south Florida would feel and look like home. Apart from the few grapefruit and mango trees I noticed in people's back yards and of course, the close proximity to the ocean, there were really no other comparisons I could readily draw. And in retrospect, that was a good thing. Some aspects of a landscape should always remain unique. That is what continues to draw you to it, even if it is only for a couple of weeks in the year.

Who I Work For

An architect's work is usually loaded with deep rooted meaning. His/ her work often reflects some deep rooted quality or cause that he/ she is trying to convey and while there are times when certain individuals operate under the guise of being true architects and have no real passion or meaning behind their work, these individuals are few and far between and are often shunned by the rest of the architecture world. Whether it is an architect-engineer so fascinated with the biology of the planet that he insists on reflecting its gestures in his work, or a man so insistent on perfection that after building the house and all the furnishings, he would design and make the clothing to be worn in it as well. No matter how frivolous or complex our cause may be, it is important that we have one. I for one, am a strong advocate for the natural environment and a peaceful coexistence with it.

There is something present in our innate nature that just feels at ease in the unbuilt environment. Something about a symphony of crickets at night, or the majesty of a waterfall, or the sight of a scarlet cardinal perched on a tree branch always seems to leave us (or me at least) in a subtle awe. But then, at some point in our existence, we decided that it would be better to completely isolate ourselves from these elements, as if they were somehow beneath us, designing and building landscapes completely void of any natural life whatsoever, except for the occasional trained dog or cat and or few flower pots here and there. Ironically, in the absence of human intervention, these very same pets often instinctively disappear into the unbuilt world when they are near death. Industrialization, while helping us earn a livelihood has inadvertently robbed us of a basic consciousness about life. We are content to observe it through electronic media, what a poor substitute!

I believe that it was us as designers who created this mindset of exclusion in the first place and it is therefore our responsibility to once again instill - by virtue of design - an awareness about nature. In my mind, there should exist a symbiosis between the built and the rustic, people should be at least partially immersed into nature. The onus is on us to ensure that our clients are able to celebrate life other than just their own, and I sincerely believe that this can be done through design.