TALIESIN

IIt all began with a letter. A letter written during the first months of the Architecture course at the University of Palermo.

Driven by a moment of discouragement it was a protest destined to remain unheard, in the late ’80s static atmosphere of an Italian university trying to look for new directions, constrained between the exhausted modern tradition of rationalism and the useless outsized projects of postmodern.

Moving evidence of the ardor of the youth, it reflected the initial and common infatuation for the architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright and a call for help in the continuation of the studies following an organic inspiration. The letter however was not sent. It would have remained a momentary breakout, set aside among the notes of the first-year courses, maybe remembered in the future with a smile, if I wouldn’t have found it by accident one year later.

Many things had happened, an entire year of studies had led to a new awareness of reality, a more conformist vision that had sadly smoothed down the impetus and the intolerance of the previous year. And therefore the decision, totally irrational, to send the letter anyway, revising it in its hardest parts and finally addressing it, a year later, to the same original recipient.

And the surprise to receive, after only a week, the answer that changes your life:

Dear Santoro, I have been very glad to receive your letter. Experiences come back and when I was your age, trapped in a fascist school, I felt the same way as you [...] I suggest you break with this atmosphere and go to Taliesin, to the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation, Taliesin West, Scottsdale, Arizona. If you really want, you will be accepted. Two or three years, maybe less, in Wright’s world, are wonderful. From there you can sail to other shores, or come back [...] If you are hearing the call and the message of organic architecture, you must head to Taliesin. Best wishes, greetings, and good work.

Bruno Zevi.12