concrete narratives

Architecture is in my blood you could say; my grandfather was an architect and growing up in New York, a cities city and then moving to Miami, Florida for University was a cultural shock in many ways. From the original Urban playground to a sprawling wasteland of drab looking office building copying one another as much as they copy New York's strong history. The construction of this sprawling mass is usually done on the cheep; cutting corners with hollow walls and false architectural details.

I started this project in my last semester at University. After four years of learning Miami's secrets-the buildings staring at me awakened at night, they began to tell a story. A forgotten drive through bank abandon with the remains of its signage making its own territory, a forgotten light carelessly left on my its owner, the power plant's lights alive with its owns electrons polluting the dark sky.