On the 29th of July I lost one of the most important people in my life. Glen was an older brother, a guide, and a very dear friend. The outpouring of grief and stories of how connected people felt to him and his work have been overwhelming. I wanted to share one small story that nearly connects the beginning and the end of our time together, it’s a story that inspired so much adventure and even led me to leave Ireland and make a home in Los Angeles (attached below).
Milan is insufferably hot in the summer. It was a shock to me when I moved here in June 2025. Like most of Europe, the buildings are made to keep heat in and because the humidity is surprisingly high I found it harder to adapt than anywhere I’ve ever been, including Bangkok and Kuala Lumpur. In addition the endless cars (Italy has one of the highest rates of car ownership and usage in Europe) and exposed concrete ensure that the urban heat island effect is maximised.
There’s a joke about how you spend years in architecture school designing things that already exist. It’s true. And it would be absurd to say there isn’t value in browsing references (but that’s a topic for a much longer discussion). That said, one of the most challenging things about studying at Polimi is the automatic use of Pinterest references and AI generated images. The students here are bright and extremely motivated, but they’re overworked and stressed.
Apparently, it was 15 years ago when we played the Viper room as this line up. It always felt like a strangely solemn place to play, it’s impossible to not think about River Phoenix when you’re there. He passed away on the sidewalk you have to load in and out from. It’s easy to be negative about how cutthroat and high paced the strip is but compared to the east side, we were always surprised by how good the sound was and how gracious the promoters were.
One year in Milan today. It’s wild to think that this time next year I’ll be packing to leave. So much about what it means to study in Italy is eye opening, I didn’t know education like this existed. I’m looking forward to analyzing it in future research. AI and architecture are on a really interesting collision course and our means of measuring anything are all going to have to be reconsidered.
If we examine the general laws of perception, we see that as it becomes habitual, it also becomes automatic. So eventually all of our skills and experiences function unconsciously-automatically. […] Automatization eats away at things, at clothes, at furniture, at our wives, and at our fear of war. If the complex life of many people takes place entirely on the level of the unconscious, then it’s as if this life had never been.
Most of what we learn at Polimi is technical, vague, and frustrating, but sometimes we get to do things like this. model-kangataran-sean.pdf
My favourite class during this semester has been one on design theory. This is something I got to create for it. kangataran-sean-visual-essay.pdf
My Mum pointed this out a long time ago, but I’ve always had birds around me in different states of distress. Apparently there’s an old Irish tale about St Kevin and the blackbird as a symbol of patience and tenderness. This guy just needed a rest and was back in the air fifteen minutes later. For some reason when they’re around it’s the only time Conor gets jealous. Lambrate, Milan
This poem by RD Laing reminds me of the daily experience of studying architecture. For a few years I baked bread daily. Pounds and pounds of dough and failed experiments. When I needed new ideas I could write to the best and they’d share, ideas, techniques, goals, everything. See, bread is deceptively simple, it’s “just flour, water, and air”, but it humbles you quick. Architecture is impossibly complicated so it might take you decades to admit you don’t know anything.
The object of art doesn’t matter too much. “Whether we conceive of the work of art on the model of a picture (art as a picture of reality) or on the model of a statement (art as the statement of the artist), content still comes first. The content may have changed. It may now be less figurative, less lucidly realistic. But it is still assumed that a work of art is its content.
In the park we walk each day, spring has arrived. Thousands of dandelion seedheads sprouted. No one planted them, no one takes care of them, kids play with them. On the corner there is a booth selling colourful plants wrapped in paper. In a few weeks men in orange jackets will come and mow down the uninvited guests. Lambrate, Milan