https://doi.org/10.53656/phil2026-03s-07

Резюме. This paper is written in response to a kind invitation from Prof. M Arch Boyko Kadinov, DSc, to participate as an author in a specialized forthcoming issue of the Philosophy (Filosofiya) scientific journal, published by the national publishing house Az-buki, and dedicated exclusively to architecture and its philosophical origins and connections. This paper envisions architecture – precisely the architecture of public buildings, public space, and the public domain – as a stratificational snapshot in the broad daylight of common philosophy, commercial ideology, and social psychology. The paper argues that today’s architecture is in a deep thought crisis due to a lack of awareness of architectural theory and examines, in real time, these conditions and the circumstances that led to this state. At the same time, it tries to suggest hypothetical micro-models of saving architecture from its mass self, in its unintentional voids and cracks, as well as in peripheral theory spaces of architecture.

Ключови думи: architectural theory; public space; unintentional; defensive design

The explanation for this paper is somewhat similar to what David Lynch said at the mythical Brattle Theatre in 2006, when talking about his last at the time feature, Inland Empire, in which the director did almost everything by himself – wrote the script, produced the film, shot it, directed it, and edited it. Lynch claimed he did not think of this film as a single, cohesive piece, but rather as a collection of separate ideas and depictions he had collected over the years. The idea behind this very paper is quite the same; it showcases a finite set of fragmented theoretical pieces which I – as a master in architecture (2006), an active tutor in public buildings in UACEG (2007), a doctor in architecture (2013), an associate professor at the same institution (2016), and a vice-dean of academic affairs of the same university (between 2020 and 2023) with a deliberately limited practical experience in producing buildings—envisioned and collected within the last 10 years mostly by observing local processes and media of the complicated inbetween space between architectural theory, common philosophy, arthouse cinema and primitive photography. This very introductory approach serves as a guide to a monograph written in 2016, but 10 years later, it rather observes architecture through a cinematic reverse-angle shot, from film to architecture. In contrast, the focus today is on saving architecture, as it is extincting at a faster pace than the visual arts and film in particular. As in the monograph from 2016, this paper implies gratefulness to Prof. M Arch Boyko Kadinov, DSc, for his 10 commandments in architecture and his unbreakable enthusiasm for architecture as an artistic medium, to M Arch Boryana Ilieva and her visual campaign Floor Plan Croissant, which supplied the fuel field for all the cinematic approach in cinematic architecture, to the chief assistant prof. M Arch Ignat Todorov, PhD, for his deep architectural dive into Zizek and Deleuze within his PhD thesis, and to all the aware students (including the PhD ones)—former and active, who indirectly required and continue to require, a constant, high-rpm development to my notion of architecture. In the endnotes section of the paper, there are links to video examples, as well as some partial peripheral explanations; graphical images are deliberately not included in the text. Also, the piece is not data-driven and takes Zizek’s side in his 2013 intellectual spat with Chomsky.

In order to set the theoretical boundaries of this paper, we have to adjust the limit of the notions in their major realms according to the levels of the author: philosophy, on one hand, and architecture, on the other – listed separately before thinking of them as a morphological unity. As a trained architect and teacher in architecture and public buildings, with 19 years of experience (though not practicing architecture in the commonly expected way), I propose starting with architecture as the epidermal materialisation of a theoretical approach or a set of them. However, as a guest figure in the main field of this scientific journal, I should probably start by acknowledging (my) limitations in the paper’s philosophical realm. Borrowing Zizek’s introduction of his architectural parallax as part of The Political Unconscious of Architecture (2012), but in reciprocal reverse, I might expose things that are already well known in the academic circle of common philosophy, as my touch to philosophy is limited only through the means of architecture: through tiny sparkles of Bachelard’s spatial poetics, Foucault’s heterotopia and heterochrony, Mark Fisher’s concept of hauntology, Derrida’s participation in the Parc de la Villette in Paris project alongside Bernard Tschumi and Colin Fournier from Archigram, Agamben’s notions of contemporarity and of Walser’s walk commendatory, Baudrillard’s simulacra and system of objects, partially Lyotard’s postmodern fables, but yet heavily on Zizek and his Lacan’s reincarnations within the how-to-read Lacan book and documentaries Predictions of Fire (1996), Reality of the Virtual (2004), The Pervert Guide to Cinema (2006), The Pervert Guide to Ideology (2012), Liberation Day (2016). In this Zizek context, a basic understanding of two major texts is recommended: the essay mentioned above, titled “The Architecture Parallax,” as part of the re-opening act to Fredric Jameson’s narrative, and Ignat Todorov’s PhD thesis, entitled “Architectural Fetishism in the Universe of Zizek,” from 2023.

Although it is considered one of humanity’s highest cultural achievements and materialisations, architecture has struggled more than ever to define itself in the last 25 years. The hardest part of this accusation is that it does not require definition; it does not need to define itself. Probably, in a simple introduction tryout it will not be too absurd if in a contemporary way we use a comparison with the phenomenon of bitcoin – architecture is similarly virtual (as not all built environment classifies as architecture, and most of the time today it is too hard to distinguish architectural piece from a mere building, based on virtual qualities), it is quite valuable (as common people we are not exactly sure how it is derived, but is somehow mined and expensive), it stores value as a commodity, it relies on technology, it pollutes environment extremely and at the same time it verifies and validates people, social and financial groups, symbolic order, even governments. Architecture appears so significant that it cannot be left to architects; thus, at some point, architects’ architecture becomes redundant, as the main figures in building production are no longer architects but real estate developers and builders. At the same time, it cannot be redundant because, as de Graaf puts it, No one needs an architect to realise a building, yet no building is the same without an architect. Architecture does not invent building; it invents consciousness. If there is such a variety of approaches to architecture, missing or present at least, the first thing that this paper should do is to limit the notion of architecture to a specific entity, concerning today’s society.

A good starting point on this would be the basic theoretical approach to architecture by Reinier de Graaf, best known as a partner at the Office for Metropolitan Architecture (OMA), the author of Four Walls and a Roof (2019), and architect, verb. (2024) – with his last book Architecture Against Architecture (March, 2026). Practically a manifesto, across its 2 main parts and 14 chapters, the book examines a troubled state of architecture in which architecture has become a commodity buffer – one that absorbs the sharp irregularities and deficits in the production of urban and planning concepts, primarily concerning residential buildings and areas as a commodity. The first chapter of this conditional manifesto examines the schism between the founders of major architectural practices and the massive teams of anonymous architects they lead. In the name of architectural mythology and cause, these teams are willing to work under exceptionally harsh conditions: unregulated working hours and what is practically the lowest pay among all participants in the construction process (not to mention the need to please the unpleasable). The commentary here is not necessarily new: historically speaking, humanity’s greatest creations are the result of imperial colonial policies or, as heard in the song Slaves (a sketch from the third episode of the iconic 2005 MTV2 series Wonder Showzen), Slaves built the Pyramids, Slaves built the Parthenon, Slaves built America. Slaves, this is your song, thank you.

The indirect link – a mixture of power and phenomenon of starchitects on one hand, and mythological causality, social status of past greatness plus pride, and shame plus exploitation as a package deal for low-level architects on the other – is at the root of the crisis in which architecture (or rather architecture theory) finds itself today. De Graaf traces the emergence of the modern concept of the architect back to the Italian Renaissance. At that time, driven by a need for self-validation, ecclesiastical power invented the concept of the architect as an intellectual and polymath, distinguishing them from the Medieval master builder who worked physically alongside masons and labourers. The point is that a similar divide still governs the ranking of ordinary architects today, although ecclesiastical power is not as great. It gets worse – The Industrial Revolution and the adjacent Architectural Modernism motorised the building process. They reintroduced the figure of the architect as a mass craftsman, or, in the terms of its time, a simple draftsman. The Bauhaus movement pointed in the same direction but was widely misread as a prequel to the starchitects, a phenomenon of the 90s. As Vihren Bakardziev points out in his 2021 monograph, the beginning of Modernism is a conditional peasants’ mutiny, but with the addition that it was simply an epidermal mutiny in which the peasants saw themselves as stars within the contemporary absence of the divine. What De Graaf fails to note in this scenario is that this separation manifests as a psychological phenomenon of schizoid behaviour among architects. Thus, despite being ordinary, the contemporary anonymous architects perceive themselves as the genealogical and ontological heir to the great names of architecture. Consequently, the average architect designs insignificant accommodations – even as drab building elements devoid of any quality – but does so with the mindset that they are a continuation of minds like Alberti, Brunelleschi, and Palladio. In other words, they see themselves as someone much closer to power than they actually are. However, at the same time, they see themselves as a left-wing social mass. It is much like a quantum phenomenon, where one cannot decide which side of the barricade to position oneself. In the first days of the administrative mandate as a vice-dean of academic affairs in 2020, I had an informal meeting with one of the officials in one of the subdivisions of the Chamber of Architects in Bulgaria, where they pitched the following idea: what about generating a catalogue of the students in architecture, exposed quite seriously.

In addition to the meaning of the lines above and to shed light on the matter from a parallel perspective, the invention of the Renaissance architect – and their continuation as a social figure in our modern era – has a sign-based significance in the literal sense of the phrase. In separating the architect from the builder and, consequently, architectural theory from architectural practice, one sees more than just class-based revulsion. This mechanism is evident in the sign (the drawing), which, as a document and projection, provides visual instructions to the builder, ensuring that the architect and the builder will never communicate directly. Through this separation, the architect is indirectly placed in a position where they must express themselves – and, consequently, think – structurally, symbolically, and through signifiers. Similar to McLuhan’s Laws of Media tetrad and its enhancement part, the architect’s direct verbal language is replaced by a graphic-symbolic and instructional one. However, this mediating link has the following favourable influence: through the imitation of this apparatus’s feedback loop, the architect unconsciously begins to think of architecture as a message. This is a message not only as an instruction or manual for building, but also, secondarily, as an additional, foreign essence bestowed upon the building – an essence it does not possess by default.

The mechanism illustrated above might sound particularly positive for the historical development of the architectural imagination. In this sense, the architects of Modernism materialised two of Le Corbusier’s famous five principles. Firstly, the roof terrace breaks the link with the traditional signification of a roof as a sloped surface and introduces an entirely new scenario for the flat roof. This roof covers and protects the building but does not look like a (pitched) roof, introducing a new use: the experience of being atop the roof, on the terrace. Secondly, the ribbon window of the International style does not resemble the visually established window of the past. However, it supplies the same functions (admitting light, maintaining and regulating climate conditions, etc.) while additionally reimagining the modern prism’s elevation as an abstract, wide, infinite ribbon. In these two cases, the roof and the window are phenomenologically no longer what they used to be, even as they continue to fulfil their previous purposes without appearing familiar. Connotatively, in both instances, the roof and the terrace are reinvented, reimagined. Such an approach is wonderful if a relatively new industry were to recognize and adopt this secondary, next-level invention apparatus. However, when today’s construction industry anonymizes buildings as commodities, such instances of architectural creative license can backfire within an overall economic strategy. Whether by conspiracy or not, for this reason, over the last 25 years, architects have been aggressively offered a toolkit that categorizes architectural elements in a library-like fashion. Under the pretext of facilitating, optimizing, and harmonizing dialogue among different construction specialists, architects are presented with Building Information Modelling (BIM) applications in which – to use the two examples mentioned above – the architect can easily select from a variety of roofs or windows. These libraries are convenient and fast, but they strip the architect of the opportunity to invent their own original narrative for a window or a terrace.

The socio-internal aspect of this proposed instrumental mechanism is even more terrifying: the social diaspora is consolidated through its own tools. It is no longer just a matter of being unable to invent new micro-narratives for specific elements; as an architect, you can be professionally ostracised if your work does not feature the library-established elements dictated by a given form of instrumentalisation. It would be one thing if this passive, implicit prohibition were limited to BIM (Building Information Modelling) tools. The problem is that this type of modelling is not restricted to architectural elements like the aforementioned roofs and windows; as a hypothesis, it includes constraints of both a regulatory and material nature. Let us examine these two types of constraints separately. Regulatory constraints represent limitations based on quantitative criteria. For regulatory reasons, a building cannot be taller or generally larger than a specific permitted virtual volume; at the same time, no investor or developer would make it smaller than allowed for reasons of commodity-driven economic expediency. In such a narrative, the architect has no say in architectural matters; they serve merely as an interpreter of predetermined regulations. Material constraints become the psychological refuge for the author, as this second option seems much more vacant or open. However, materials are heavily fetishised based on certain traits. Much like the element libraries in BIM, materials are self-limiting – meaning they are predetermined and reduced to specific sets, often hidden behind recipe-based categories.

In the aforementioned 2016 monograph, these constraints are described as objective values of architecture, including: material honesty and authenticity, naturalness, beauty, based on proportions; construction expediency; digitalisation of construction processes; preservation of cultural and historical heritage; and sustainability (whether contradictorily oriented toward longevity or adaptation), energy efficiency, and optimality. These values are further explored as concepts of architectural fetishisation in Ignat Todorov’s 2023 dissertation and specifically in his 2023 article on Peter Thiel. While the concepts are globally undeniably important even as objective values or fetishes, they passively forbid architectural narratives outside of themselves. Because they are presented as direct and inevitable in their real essence, their use disallows their metaphorical reinvention or further symbolisation. Thus, the specific type of tooling forces architects to think within its instruments and to deny anything outside of this toolbox. Can you imagine, for example, an architectural object that successfully combines the preservation of cultural heritage while simultaneously replacing its objective historicity with a personal, original micro-concept – similar to the approach Alejandro Jodorowsky uses in his book (and film) The Dance of Reality (2013 – 2014)? In this sense, the contemporary architectural profession offers only a symptomatic illusion of choice: you can choose what kind of architect to be, but only among the provided options. You cannot propose anything new, but you have the right to choose. Thus, your buildings must resemble those already known by established traits; otherwise, they will be rejected. Moreover, you, as an architect, will also secure this rejection to others. What Rem Koolhaas said in an interview in 1996 – that the most interesting thing about architecture is arriving in new worlds rather than returning to old ones – is now not just rejected; it is forbidden. This mechanism finds two cinematic parallels: the opening scene of Alien: Covenant (2017) and Zizek’s analysis of the pill scene in The Matrix (1999), where he refuses the choice between the blue and red pill, demanding instead a third pill that would grant him access to the reality behind the virtual. We should note that the prohibition described in this manner is also found in the text of Fisher on hauntology.

However, how does such a contradictory narrative remain so resilient and self-sufficient? Before attempting to answer such a question, we should introduce a specific distinction regarding both architects and their work, with its missing grade ending rank. In the context of the Bulgarian architectural reality, the first part of this distinction offers a relatively easy answer. Until 1989, the centralised industry consolidated architects into design organisations (called “proektantski”) that sheltered and provided work for the majority of Bulgarian architects. Central to the meaning explored in this publication is the alignment between the concept of the design organisation and the designer (proektant) working for it.

The designer – not to be confused with the architect-designers, who are also not architects in the theoretical sense – is a labouring subject in the architectural-construction process. They work with prescriptive models that, in the years before 1989, were imposed by the government’s overt narratives and goals. Albeit implicitly, the majority of architects – not only in Bulgaria – successfully inherited and even expanded upon this model of prescriptive repetition. The difference today is that the prohibitive narratives are no longer overt; they are passive and internal, which makes them even more categorical because they cannot be clearly seen or identified. Thus, the contemporary mass architect is actually a designer (proektant). Their role is not architectural; they serve by executing demands that are foreign to them (having none of their own) and by interpreting a specific administrative law framework. Generally, they are an administrator; in rare cases, a technological optimiser (a craftsman); and currently, never an artist. The designer is largely anonymous, lacking invention or creativity, devoid of critical thinking; generally, they know but do not think. The primary fabric of the construction process is based on this type of architect, the designer.

Reinier de Graaf’s call for trade union unification in Chapter 2 of his book Architecture against Architecture (2026) specifically addresses this class of the designer. Of course, this type has no reason to seek unification. Their pay may be minimal, but growth comes with the prospect of visionary responsibility – a burden this type or class cannot carry. Conventionally speaking, this type constitutes 95% of all architects, though 95% of them would not identify as such. They lack a specialised architectural function (as defined by Valkov) and design the general fabric of the anonymous construction market: residential buildings, warehouses, and administrative buildings (offices). The form of creative freedom with which this type maintains its architectural illusion lies merely in the composition of visible materials, both inside and out.

The following type is that of the architect-designers. This group is significantly smaller and creates the impression of true architecture. These architects are boutique (although they will also deny it) – they have access to high-end investors and developers and apply superior systems, construction and finish materials. With accumulated experience, they develop a specific sense of taste. These are the people whom, if you were not an architect, you would consider to be architects. In practice, they also materialize models prescriptively, but given their clients, they can address the full architectural manifestation. This type produces a high-end combined version of the aforementioned regulatory and material constraints – in the form of a complete building that, in order to be accepted, must have already been materialized elsewhere. Until 20 years ago, this approach was condemned as plagiarism, but today it is the norm. It relies on the idea that if an architectural object is socially validated, the use of its configurational elements remixed in another object guarantees that the secondary building object will also be recognized as architecture.

The innocence and nativity of this model is that elements and materials can never be used in the same way, even if only because the objects are in different geographic locations. Naturally, this borrowing exists within a system of euphemisms: the copy is a replica, the act of taking is an act of inspiration and contextualisation, and the remixing of materials combined is proudly presented as the language of a given architecture. The resemblance to linguistic modes used by AI graphic generators is not accidental. These generators apply the requested materiality variations to basic volumetric images with predefined building geometric configurations. In practice, the once-unattainable taste that was the trademark of high-end architect-designers was the first morphological trick that AI learned to generate and simulate – not just satisfactorily, but with an ease matching that of the world’s leading arch-viz studios – this practice of a referential approach to architecture as visual media will eventually collapse, as it deserves. If not, it will unequivocally show architect-designers that their work is neither specialised nor, in many cases, truly theirs. The worst part is the anticipation of a higher type of architect, but as for today, that type is extinct. As Jordan Peterson distinguished between creativity and intelligence in a series of lectures in 2017, true creativity is very rare. The chances of finding it in architecture are quite low compared to, say, fashion. Alternatively, if we maintain the architectural realm, those would probably be buildings that have lost their initial purpose, significance, ideology, and agency, such as the homes for mourning civil rituals from the Soviet era, traced by Assistant Prof. M Arch Irena Dragiycheva in her PhD research.

This paper does not aim to be accusatory, though; it merely registers the transformation of the profession from one that sets the tone to one that merely follows an established path. This is part of a broader social system of refusal of a strategic global vision; thus, big social narratives and the corresponding architecture are extinct. When working with students, I often define the city as a place where there is an endless abundance of both positive resources (water, electricity, internet, dopamine triggers) and negative ones (waste collection, sewage) – referencing José Ortega y Gasset’s ontological centaur. Intriguingly, these resources reach us in increasingly hidden and spatially free ways, depriving us of the ability to sense their collective character. A great contemporary cinematic example of this phenomenon would be the difference of futuristic approaches in the near and the far future, depicted in Arco (2025), referring to the class features of housing in the TV animated series The Flintstones (1960 – 1966) and The Jetsons (1962-1963), but imagining that their narratives happen in the same era (and The Great Gazoo is just a character that dropped out of his initial high class as an alien). Not only are cables and heat pipes hidden or disappearing (replaced by individual solar panels), but public spaces are vanishing as well. Architects increasingly perceive public space as private space, or at most as a derivative of it, as if public space were just a negative continuation or a lack of private space. Under the pretext of human scale, public typologies begin to cultivate residential elements (pitched roofs, loggias, individual AC units on facades). This behaviour is described as particlisation; a common generic example is the Asakusa Culture and Tourism Centre by Kengo Kuma &Associates. The Bulgarian example could be the square around the statue of Patriarch Evtimiy in Sofia, which is now surrounded by 4 concrete flower planters as part of an unintentional defensive design.

If we apply this thinking to the contemporary architectural phenomenon, we see that it corresponds to Fisher’s concept of reflexive impotence. It is a state in which one does not just observe someone else doing something, but also observes someone else observing a third person doing the thing, much like the externalised emotion by Zizek with that “canned laughter” that laughs for you in TV shows like Cheers and Friends. Today, architects work more as observers of the world than as its generators, believing that this is still a form of generating architecture. As of this point, architecture is lost. De Graaf’s calls for syndicalism are, frankly, manifestos without ground. The proactively responsive or adaptive theories of the early 21st century were stillborn, and de Graaf is still trying to defibrillate them, for the lack of anything better. The lever is no longer in the hands of architects; they have been placed – or have placed themselves – in the position of observers. Nothing global depends on them anymore, except for the “cultivation of good taste,” which, as a hollow quality, will soon be a product of perfectedAI variations.

Architecture should be viewed as something that has died, but which may be resurrected in a more favourable period. We are in a state of a zoo, or in the artificial state of the room from last sequence of the Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), where the aliens or some other creatures of higher consciousness have arranged a place for the extinct species of human by the means of their good-will, but still as a set of artificial accommodations, envisioned by those creatures. The question here is what to do when they, as symptoms, expire, and what the reality behind their virtuality is. Thus, the mission becomes more of a personal cause – like with Frodo, the small hobbit saving the world, it falls to individual architectural agents (not to call them architects, and not only they do not need to be licensed architects, but quite the opposite – they deliberately should not be architects) who, unaware of each other, live in the bubbles of their theories, far from the world, guarding them in time-capsules like treasures for a future when the world will not only have a place for them, but the need for them. It is somewhat similar to the heritage and the lost art of large-format analogue photography. Dear non-architectural architects, keep your old large-format cameras, they might shoot again. Architecture would not be derived from architecture; it would be hidden near architecture, but quite elsewhere.

NOTES

1. This is a reference to my main work: Savov, P. (2016). Hudozhestveni proyavi na hibridnata forma mezhdu arhitekturata i novite izkustva (kino, fotografiya, digitalni modeli). Monograph. Sofia: 140 p.: illustrated.

2. Boryana Ilieva’s poetic survey in cinematic found at https://floorplancroissant.com/ and https://www.instagram.com/fplancroissant/

3. To put it in a slightly different perspective, for example, in 2009, I had a friend who bought a second-hand Saab 9000 CS 2.0i, producing roughly 130 hp. We turned the car into a DIY project, mounted an intercooler and a turbine under the hood, and increased its power to 240 hp. At this point, it was great for drag races, but its fuel consumption for everyday commuting increased drastically. So we decided we should mount an LPG system in the back, and we did. Consumption remained unchanged, but the price of Liquefied Petroleum Gas was relatively low and affordable. However, after a few months of use, the car began losing power, with the dashboard lights flashing. We went to the LPG mount service. The technician watched the engine run and concluded calmly: “I do not see anything wrong with the work of the added LPG system.” This example is meant to illustrate that the architect’s work represents the only part of the building process that seems to see all the systems in a building holistically and emphatically, as for the people who will be using and/or perceiving a building consciously. In this regard, there is a clear example of why a city should be planned by urban planners and architects, not by real estate developers: the flooding in the resort village of Elenite, Bulgaria, in October 2025 was a serious event that caused casualties and significant damage.

4. Wonder Showzen is an American puppet comedy television series by Vernon Chatman and John Lee, produced by PFFR Productions and USA Cable Entertainment, initially rejected by USA Network and sold to MTV Networks. Thought of as a children’s television series, the show’s format parodies educational PBS Kids shows such as Sesame Street. In addition to general controversial comedy, it satirises politics, religion, war, violence, sex, racism, and culture. The particular song from the main text is available here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lhu4T_vwxIU

5. The proposal was for a catalogue that would allow one to easily see a student’s working status, skills, availability, payment expectations, contact information, and so on. Ironically, I added proposals if a student had a 9-to-5 working mentality, how many hours could he or she work without sleeping, how many months of payment delay could he or she bear, and how many teeth are in their mouth. The conversation was held as a joke until I found the official was serious about their catalogue suggestion. So I suggested a reciprocal catalogue all along – one of the architectural studios in Bulgaria: how much do they pay, public original feedback from past workers, record of working conditions, salaries of architectural staff by months and years, workflow mentality. Suddenly, the talk became serious, and the idea of both catalogues was dropped.

6. The opening scene of the film offers a brutal narrative in which we witness the birth of a “new human” – predefined, optimised, intelligent, and eternal – who is forbidden to invent a mythology for their own genesis. In contrast, their creator (old and dying) is permitted to do so. In other words, the contemporary architect is born guilty, as Baudrillard would have put it; for the modern architect, even the imaginary worlds of their architectural ancestors are forbidden – worlds they are not even allowed to hate, but have to observe as in the final scene of Being John Malkovich (1999). The particular opening scene from Alien is available here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lhu4T_vwxIU

7. Martin Margiela: In His Own Words (2019) offers a compelling approach to architecturalinvestigation andcreativity throughthefashion ofMartin Margiela, with Krum Damyanov’s morphological experimentation in mind. The full documentary is available here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A6N0_bOMiSM

REFERENCES

Bakardzhiev, V. (2021). Kanon i stil v arhitekturata: nov opit za teoretichno osmisliane na arhitekturnata istoria. Iztok-Zapad.

Dragiycheva, I. (2024). Appearance of the homes for mourning civil rituals and tracing the trends in their development. ANNUAL OF Univercity of architecture civil engineering and geodesy, 57(4) , 931 – 940. https://doi.org/10.71167/uaceg.2024.570412, UACEG.

Fisher, M. (2012). What is hauntology? Film Quarterly, 66(1) , 16 – 24. https://doi.org/10.1525/fq.2012.66.1.16, University of California Press.

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Todorov, I. (2023). Arhitekturno nasledstvo v sistemata na Thiel. Arhitektura, (3 – 4), 113 – 119. ISSN 0324-1254.

Valkov, B. (2006). Spetsializiranoto obuchenie po proektirane na obshtestveni sgradi. UACEG.

Zizek, S. (1989). The Sublime Object of Ideology. Verso Books.

Zizek, S. (2012). The Architectural Parallax. In N. Lahiji (Ed.), The Political Unconscious of Architecture. Re-opening Jameson’s Narrative (pp. 244 – 278). Routledge.