A message from The Great Architect

God writes in BD?

Non-believers, thanks for nothing. Eternally grateful I don’t think. Don’t bother invoking My help the next time it all goes pear-shaped. If you WANT it to go pear-shaped you can always buy some of that expensive design software from the Gehry Corporation, can’t you? You snivelling distracted heathen dabblers.

Architecture and I go back a long way. Ask your old pals the Freemasons. Who created the universe? I did. Who am I? The Great Architect. I didn’t ask to be called that. I would have preferred Tecton, Master of The Galaxies. Or The Omnipotent Spatial Masterplanner. Almost anything else to be frank, I’m just not that keen on The Great Architect. Makes me sound like the managing director of Jehovah + Partners, some turgid outfit doing modular housing in the Thames Gateway.

Which reminds Me. I know an interventionist God is a bit passé these days but the next practice using “+” instead of “and” in its name, or deploying a row of lowercase bullshit with “:” in the middle... well. Upon them will be visited a most calamitous vengeance. And this is not Arb speaking here — I am God, so watch it.

Architects have traditionally been accused by their victims of playing Me, which is ridiculous. If people stopped to think for a moment about the logistics of social engineering they would realise it is money, not architecture, imitating Me. And in terms of infrastructure I think you’ll find the righteous paths are chosen by the county council.

While I think of it, I’d like to take this opportunity to disown a poem currently circulating on the internet in which God’s Architecture is a snowflake. In no way is this architecture. Snowflakes are essentially a feat of engineering. Obviously I take credit for that too. A snowflake conforms to My laws of physics.

One of the questions I sometimes ask Myself is how should architecture serve Me? Unfortunately, I’m dealing with defective software here. In My experience, which is pretty extensive, architects are overwhelmingly secular. It goes with concepts like urban and rational. These days, when one of you is outed as a believer — Quinlan Terry for example — they’re treated with pity and derision. Firstly for being God’s Architect, secondly for not being Gaudi or Pugin. So what? I’m allowed only one architect at a time? In My mansion is an infinite volume of epic space. Come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough.

You won’t, though, will you, because the smart thing these days is sustainable paganism. I may not be revered any longer, but you’re all perfectly relaxed about this new green religion. Oh, brilliant — Earth worship. I thought you’d done with that, ages ago. Please. The Earth is just a big fat clod. Yet apparently it must be appeased, and feared. “O wrathful Earth, do not choke us all or boil us. O great Gaia, spare us and we will mend our ways. And could you put in a good word for us with your mate the sun god Ra? Or whatever he’s called this week?” You thick ants.

I acknowledge there has been some cracking architecture done in My name throughout the ages. Temples, churches, supermosques. Lovely. Houses of Me. Thanks. Good job.

Except I’m not corporeal, am I? I’m everywhere and nowhere baby, as per Jeff Beck’s classic party floor-filler, Hi Ho Silver Lining. So at the moment, yes, I’m definitely “at home” in, say, Ely Cathedral. Gorgeous nave. But I’m actually “in” social housing too. You know, that haunting stuff you recoiled from, guiltily, when you glimpsed it the other day out of the train window. Don’t even bother pretending you didn’t. I am God. I AM your conscience.

I know Mies van der Rohe once said I was in the details. And I know he’s everybody’s favourite modernist autocrat. But to be honest he was more interested in the luxury end of the market than theology. No, I am in the POINT of a building. I don’t just mean spires either, you scuttling idiots.

Anyway, listen, take care.