De
ar Jorn Utzon,
Those stupid politicians, I still can’t believe it. There they are, forcing you to compromise your design so substantially that the interior becomes a pathetic accessory to an almost perfect exterior. Just say the word and they will be boomeranged faster than you can say “A dingo ate my ceilings”.
You might well wonder at my knowledge of your personal politics. All I can say is that it’s no secret. Everyone all over Sydney is talking about it. It is a terrible day indeed when mediocrity conquers genius. That’s what your building is my darling, my tan-faced, dearest, sweetest man.
ar Jorn Utzon,Those stupid politicians, I still can’t believe it. There they are, forcing you to compromise your design so substantially that the interior becomes a pathetic accessory to an almost perfect exterior. Just say the word and they will be boomeranged faster than you can say “A dingo ate my ceilings”.
You might well wonder at my knowledge of your personal politics. All I can say is that it’s no secret. Everyone all over Sydney is talking about it. It is a terrible day indeed when mediocrity conquers genius. That’s what your building is my darling, my tan-faced, dearest, sweetest man.
Don’t worry my love, you know, I know, and anyone with any sense knows that the Opera-house will stand long after those men are dead. There will come a day when your vision will be restored to its proper place.
I once knew your master, Alvar Aalto very well. He and I were strange allies with warring hearts. Between our bickering arguments He always took time to speak well of you, and I can see that the praise was very well deserved.
Though you know him well enough that he will never admit it, I am sure he is so proud of how hard you fought for the design. You did not retreat because of selfish reasons; I know that you would have stayed to the bitter end. You left because you had to pay your workers. You could take the hit, they could not. It takes a real man to recognize that.
You are more man than the entire parliament put together.
With Love,
Retly Corm
My Dearest Isambard Kingdom Brunel,
I once knew your master, Alvar Aalto very well. He and I were strange allies with warring hearts. Between our bickering arguments He always took time to speak well of you, and I can see that the praise was very well deserved.
Though you know him well enough that he will never admit it, I am sure he is so proud of how hard you fought for the design. You did not retreat because of selfish reasons; I know that you would have stayed to the bitter end. You left because you had to pay your workers. You could take the hit, they could not. It takes a real man to recognize that.
You are more man than the entire parliament put together.
With Love,
Retly Corm
My Dearest Isambard Kingdom Brunel,
I knew you from the moment I saw you. That handsome face, the cigar firmly placed in-between your lips, that confident swagger and that ridiculously oversized hat. I said “That, that is what a great engineer looks like.” Then you coughed a coin out of your mouth and I was officially smitten.Totally sweet name by the way.
I had heard of your work from time to time, that it had revolutionized this or that, never really knowing much about it. Recently I finally saw Paddington station and the Great Western railway. Such form and power, simply through structure, it’s no wonder all those impressionists have taken such a liking to that kind of architecture. However it was not there where my admiration of you blossomed.
As you may or may not know, I have always had a fascination with modular traveling architecture, so imagine my surprise when I found that you had beaten me to it. “A modular Crimean War hospital?” I asked, disbelieving. “Naturally” They replied.
Imagine my surprise. I am sure that there is nothing you cannot do Isambard.
All my love,
Retly Corm
Dear Christopher Wren, 
So what is this to you? A joke? A hobby? I for one, sir, take architecture seriously. Now I know what you’ll say “Oh my dearest Retly, the architectural profession is simply different in the 15th century, it’s a different understanding of the art” well you can just tell it to the wall buddy because I’m tired of your excuses.
You have the formula for: intelligence, charisma, independent funds, connections, all of that. What you lack is commitment. Just look at your design for St. Paul’s. You can’t tell me that that dome made you really happy.
And your 50 churches after the great fire? You could have made London greater than Rome in it’s tourist revitalization, but you just gave up. YOU JUST GAVE UP.
If you want to find me, I’ll be in my chambers. Crying over what we could have had.
Retly Corm
Dear Bernard Maybeck,
Oh darling, please believe me, I didn’t mean to do you any harm.
When I said that you never discovered your own style, I meant it in a good way. You have a great talent for criticism and interpretation. It’s just that…how can I say this, it just isn’t relevant anymore.
Grecian Palaces, Ski Chalets, Old English Mansions? They just seem silly in California. I won’t mention those two gentlemen of the viridian persuasion because I know how much you hate that but I don’t see why you don’t see.
Your talent is wasted on lazy clients, quit them, and go rogue with me we could do such marvelous things together if we gave up on the rules.
I’ll wait, but not forever,
Retly Corm
So what is this to you? A joke? A hobby? I for one, sir, take architecture seriously. Now I know what you’ll say “Oh my dearest Retly, the architectural profession is simply different in the 15th century, it’s a different understanding of the art” well you can just tell it to the wall buddy because I’m tired of your excuses.
You have the formula for: intelligence, charisma, independent funds, connections, all of that. What you lack is commitment. Just look at your design for St. Paul’s. You can’t tell me that that dome made you really happy.
And your 50 churches after the great fire? You could have made London greater than Rome in it’s tourist revitalization, but you just gave up. YOU JUST GAVE UP.
If you want to find me, I’ll be in my chambers. Crying over what we could have had.
Retly Corm
Dear Bernard Maybeck,
Oh darling, please believe me, I didn’t mean to do you any harm.
When I said that you never discovered your own style, I meant it in a good way. You have a great talent for criticism and interpretation. It’s just that…how can I say this, it just isn’t relevant anymore.
Grecian Palaces, Ski Chalets, Old English Mansions? They just seem silly in California. I won’t mention those two gentlemen of the viridian persuasion because I know how much you hate that but I don’t see why you don’t see.
Your talent is wasted on lazy clients, quit them, and go rogue with me we could do such marvelous things together if we gave up on the rules.
I’ll wait, but not forever,
Retly Corm
Dear Thomas Jefferson,
I get it alright! You’re a genius. I mean you’re already one of the best writers of the 18th century, a brilliant inventor and one of the greatest politicians of all time. And FINE, you’re also a great patron, pushing needy losers to be legendary. (That’s right, I know ALL about Meriwether Lewis) But did you have to take architecture too? I mean, Benjamin LaTrobe is just begging to be considered America’s first architect and you just won’t let him have it. Can you please spare a little bit of glory for someone else?I mean, honestly, did Monticello have to be so perfect?
So like you? Seemingly open but deeply secretive. That place, so strangely important to its viewer and yet so indifferent as to their opinion. More so than anything else that exists in this infant country, Monticello is in permanent congress with the land, clearly in love with the land you fought for. Harmonious, elegantly crafted, and intellectually deep. GAH! Now, I’m doing it. I hate you Thomas Jefferson! You’re too damn good! Leave me alone!Love,
Retly Corm
Hehehe.
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