Architecture is the art of taming constraints. Of making poetry out of contradictions; of looking differently at trivial common place things and revealing their singularity. In a city marked by history, architecture is an opportunity to continue games started by others years or centuries ago… Architecture is a cunning game of chance and intention in which will power wrestles with the random… Architecture is an opportunity to modify, to deepen or to completely redefine the meaning of a context… Architecture is about turning a vision into reality.

Even in Vienna architecture is all those things… But there the resonance is particularly tangy and dangerous, so great is the temptation to invent and to pervert the ornate elegance.

Just imagine, then, taking these curious constructible prisms and letting the planes of the prisms slide till they form intersections; imagine that, under the magnetism produced by HH deviations, one of them ends up tilting, another decides to light up the town with a ceiling of stealthy images. Imagine that other planes begin to vibrate with a thousand lines of variable orinetation and reflectivity, and that grey sometimes drowns in grey squares on a grey background. Nothing could be more normal after that than for the inclined plane of a roof to turn into cross-hatching, weaving an incredibly tight, random pattern of parallelograms and lozenges, or for the north-facing planes to adopt granite glass to enhance their transparancy a little, while the west-facing planes hide inside variations on black to illustrate their shadows. At the border between building and sky, sits another, flat plane whose purpose is to reveal mutant faces appearing and disappearing in an evocation of all the many faces forever associated with the depth of imagery born of this city.