VERTICALITY

We see the world along the horizontal. The horizon orders what we look at, the ground holds us up, and everything we take in has a top and a bottom. VERTICALITY tips that view: up into domes, shafts and ceilings, down into drops where the bottom blurs away.

Seen this way, architecture loses its familiar sense. A stairwell becomes a spiral, a courtyard a shaft, a ceiling a landscape. Rooms become pattern, line and geometry, and some pictures leave it open whether you are falling or rising. For a moment the floor is gone, and with it any certainty about which way is up.

That giddiness is not a side effect, it is the subject. Lose the familiar order and you see for the first time what you have only ever used. A space you cross every day suddenly shows its construction, its rhythm, the beauty that everyday purpose kept covered.

Abandoned places suit this way of looking better than any other. Nobody interrupts, nobody asks why you are lying on the floor staring upwards or leaning over a parapet into the dark below. You can take your time until form wins out over recognition and a building turns into an image made of nothing but light and line.

VERTICALITY moves between height and depth, between orientation and dissolution, between architecture and illusion. It shows familiar abandoned places as no one has seen them before, and invites you to let go of your own way of looking for once.