Inspired by his instagram of t-shirts emblazoned with out-of-context and found quotes, Dear T-Shirt distills a number of candid conversations with writer and architecture curator Lev Bratishenko. Each column is based on a genuine exchange, lightly modified and made anonymous to allow for that which might otherwise be too spicy — because we need to talk about the too-spicy things. Some details have been changed; nothing has been invented. The following discussion, with the Raging Reformer, is an all-too-common account of dealing with disillusionment; read it and weep.
© Lev Bratishenko
I think my t-shirt quote would be something like, ‘we’re the good guys.’ We are the doing-everything-right company.This self-image, this claim that we are the good ones, we are the progressive ones, we are standing up for the right things, I saw very loudly communicated within the company and also to the outside. They relied on it and associated publically with ideas like questioning working conditions in architecture and hopping on the sustainability train. At the same time, inside, it’s not exactly the opposite — but it is different.
I think my t-shirt quote would be something like, ‘we’re the good guys.’ We are the doing-everything-right company. At the same time, inside, it’s not exactly the opposite — but it is different.
Of course, I worked as a freelancer for the office. And the office was largely subsidised by the fact that the most important people were also teaching at an architecture school, rather than earning money through the projects by the office. If you were ‘selected’ to teach, it meant that you earned enough at the school and they didn’t need to pay you as much in the office. That’s how it worked.
They said things like, if you join the core team, then we are all on the same eye-level and you will have the same say. But can you have a partner with over 30 years of experience, whose opinion counts as no more or less than that of a young architect like me — can that really work? I was actually very interested in the “all-in” offer, because I thought, cool, we can change something. It seems like they really wanted to have all the core members to have the same shares and responsibilities. But the reality was: decisions were always taken between two partners exclusively; then, the less experienced members of the team were strategically bamboozled in any questions that followed.
The breaking point for me was when I called them out on this strategy. It took me a lot of energy to address these power dynamics, right at the moment when we were supposed to sign papers. My body said no, don’t do this. So I said: can’t we build a system that reflects reality? Because if we are on the same level, we should be able to address those things. If you are as progressive as you are labelling yourself, can’t we discuss this?
So I said: can’t we build a system that reflects reality? Because if we are on the same level, we should be able to address those things. If you are as progressive as you are labelling yourself, can’t we discuss this?
So what happened? On the phone they were like, ‘Okay, I see, I see.’ And then nothing. Silence. Drop-dead silence. Then, they started to push and put pressure on me. Of course, this pressure was transmitted through other people; threats from someone else around the corner, which had a really bad impact on my mental health. It was really hard for me to tell whether I was going crazy, or if it really happened the way I experienced it. This went on for maybe half a year, and then they pulled the carpet out from under my feet. The teaching gig was gone. The income that had “supported” my work at the office. They waited for the very last moment to tell me. To give it some spice, I guess.
The fact that some things really were different there made it harder to leave or even to recognise problems. In some ways, they really were progressive, just not in the ways they claimed to be. At the same time, they were doing many things in exactly the same way as everyone else they were critiquing. It’s a cycle; several people left before me and I think every one of them could tell you a similar, not-so-nice story about why they left. Why they chose to burn their bridges as a strategy.
It did make it more painful because it was genuinely closer to a better reality. On some level, I felt like, well, we are trying to do something positive that I agree with — so, should I leave? Where do I draw my lines? I can't explain why I always managed to leave. I think maybe I'm just an angry woman — when I'm too angry, I just leave.
They understood my pain points. They threatened many times to take away the responsibilities I loved most. So one lever was money, of course — but the other one was the fact that I really love what I do. What made me feel bad afterwards were the people whom I felt somehow responsible for — interns, for example — who believed in the idea of the office and of the potential to change the industry. I felt sad for the ones who said, ‘If you work here, it must be a good place, right?’
Bio
The Raging Reformer is still practicing and still teaching, both of which she still loves.
Lev Bratishenko is a writer and recovering curator. His most recent publication is 21 Games you can play with a Cosmic House, and his curatorial inventions include the Come and Forget series proposing benevolent acts of mass amnesia, and How to, a workshop that brings strangers together to produce interventions in architectural culture: How to: not make an architecture magazine (2018); How to: disturb the public (2019); How to: reward and punish (2020); How to: not become a ‘developer’ (2022); How to: do no harm (2022); How to: mind the moon (2023). He was the inaugural Curator Public at the Canadian Centre of Architecture.
