Foreword Having kindly given over their basement for so many years to the storage of the paper,wood,acrylic,plaster,and metal remnants of my education Emily Abruzzo as a young architect,a few years ago my parents suggested that I take a look at my old models to see if any of them could "go."I had no hesitation about throwing the models away:most of them had been photographed, I was already in graduate school,and disposing of them would be,I thought,cathartic.No longer proud of that early,naive work that had at first given me such delight,I was glad to see it go,now fully invested in digital modeling.I brought the models out to the curb and piled them up for garbage collection. After a night of heavy rain,a mess of wet cardboard and rusty metal was all that was left the next morning.What were the previous day useless objects taking up space,embarrassing reminders of work I no longer liked,had now been melted by the onslaught of weather.The cardboard slumped,twisted,and bowed,the soft woods curved and delaminated, paints peeled,and plaster crumbled.I was amazed not only by what I saw-I had thought these to be heartier objects-but also by my complex, conflicted emotions regarding these rejected works:it made me sad, disappointed,regretful to see them in such a state. Of course,this destruction would have occurred regardless of the weather,but seeing that melted pile has,for me,made all the difference: it made me realize the intrinsic quality of models that I believe to be so important,and that is their ability to elicit emotion.While my regret was undoubtedly related to some remaining investment in my own work, it points to a larger truth:that,nearly always,designers,clients,or others who encounter and interact with models form a connection with them. A physical model is the material embodiment of an idea,and therein lies its magic.By becoming real,it gives life and actuality to an idea in a way that two-dimensional expressions rarely can.While a drawing might prefer,for example,a specific angle of view,the model often has no such luxury.With its three-dimensionality,its reaction to light and materiality, a model is perceived in innumerable and unpredictable ways.The viewer's active role-the onus to construct view,to place one's eye and hand on the object,and take in its space,details,shape,or texture-allows for an emotional relationship,a guttural connection,a feeling of investment and perhaps even authorship. While models might be seen as the most rational of all forms of architectural communication(simply,a building in miniature or a detail at full scale),they hardly seem to belong to a rationalized system.Unlike drawing,where the language of projections,the surreal flatness of the elevation,and the concept of the section are separations from reality that must be learned in order to be understood,the model does not require abstract methodologies for its comprehension.It is intuitive and liberated from over-rationalization,comprehended by the senses before it is interpreted by the brain.Models,it has been said,are real,and for this reason they communicate so well to so many.'This is why clients take such delight in them,why they convey the sense of a project even when9 Having kindly given over their basement for so many years to the storage of the paper, wood, acrylic, plaster, and metal remnants of my education as a young architect, a few years ago my parents suggested that I take a look at my old models to see if any of them could “go.” I had no hesitation about throwing the models away: most of them had been photographed, I was already in graduate school, and disposing of them would be, I thought, cathartic. No longer proud of that early, naive work that had at first given me such delight, I was glad to see it go, now fully invested in digital modeling. I brought the models out to the curb and piled them up for garbage collection. After a night of heavy rain, a mess of wet cardboard and rusty metal was all that was left the next morning. What were the previous day useless objects taking up space, embarrassing reminders of work I no longer liked, had now been melted by the onslaught of weather. The cardboard slumped, twisted, and bowed, the soft woods curved and delaminated, paints peeled, and plaster crumbled. I was amazed not only by what I saw—I had thought these to be heartier objects—but also by my complex, conflicted emotions regarding these rejected works: it made me sad, disappointed, regretful to see them in such a state. Of course, this destruction would have occurred regardless of the weather, but seeing that melted pile has, for me, made all the difference: it made me realize the intrinsic quality of models that I believe to be so important, and that is their ability to elicit emotion. While my regret was undoubtedly related to some remaining investment in my own work, it points to a larger truth: that, nearly always, designers, clients, or others who encounter and interact with models form a connection with them. A physical model is the material embodiment of an idea, and therein lies its magic. By becoming real, it gives life and actuality to an idea in a way that two-dimensional expressions rarely can. While a drawing might prefer, for example, a specific angle of view, the model often has no such luxury. With its three-dimensionality, its reaction to light and materiality, a model is perceived in innumerable and unpredictable ways. The viewer’s active role—the onus to construct view, to place one’s eye and hand on the object, and take in its space, details, shape, or texture—allows for an emotional relationship, a guttural connection, a feeling of investment and perhaps even authorship. While models might be seen as the most rational of all forms of architectural communication (simply, a building in miniature or a detail at full scale), they hardly seem to belong to a rationalized system. Unlike drawing, where the language of projections, the surreal flatness of the elevation, and the concept of the section are separations from reality that must be learned in order to be understood, the model does not require abstract methodologies for its comprehension. It is intuitive and liberated from over-rationalization, comprehended by the senses before it is interpreted by the brain. Models, it has been said, are real, and for this reason they communicate so well to so many.1 This is why clients take such delight in them, why they convey the sense of a project even when Foreword Emily Abruzzo