Ian Martin develops atrium maximisation for doughnuts
MONDAY My fixer Rock Steady Eddie has found another way of making money out of thin air. Our latest offer to the global property community is ‘atrium maximisation’.
How does it work? Well, imagine a world full of doughnuts. Easy if you’ve been to any sort of conference lately. Basically, I design the holes in doughnuts and then Eddie sells them.
I’m currently formulating concepts for the world’s tallest maximised atrium – 230m of sumptuous twisting space that will look great in any of the world’s real estate hotspots, soaring upwards like a giant eagle made of golden air. Atrium maximisation has a magical effect on occupants, who will feel approximately six inches taller, torqued into better versions of themselves by the artesian spatial effect.
A maximised atrium offers infinite possibilities, embedded in the space at a molecular level. What the client decides to have around this incredible doughnut hole is entirely up to them. That’s someone else’s problem, isn’t it?
TUESDAY In the morning, try to make Canterbury more interesting by putting drop shadows on everything.
In the afternoon, change my mind. The city centre has an unpleasant ‘floating’ look and, I’ll be honest, stairs are a nightmare.
In the evening, resolve things by making the shadows yellow and putting ramps everywhere.
WEDNESDAY My plan to crowdfund the creation of a disused underground railway line in Tamworth has got off to a shaky start.
Fewer than a hundred people have pledged a measly total of £134. That’s a long way off the target of the £40 billion required to create a plausibly derelict network of tracks and tunnels, stations and pedestrian walkways, retro-engineered to look as though they’d just been discovered and then ‘brought back to life’, perhaps as contemporary subterranean boulevards with Peruvian cafés, drop-up bars, individual karaoke pods and so on.
I despair sometimes. It’s as if people aren’t interested in the recoverable theoretical psychogeography of their own fictional hidden urban subscapes.
THURSDAY To NASA for an emergency meeting about Regolithopolis, the proposed settlement on Mars I am helping to design. What a faff it all is. Certainly puts the whole ‘getting permission for another vegetable-shaped tower in the City of London’ into perspective.
Nobody seems to have realised that Mars has already been divided into notional UN cantons. The Chinese bit is huge. Even the Russian territory is much bigger than you’d have thought. Meanwhile the ‘West’ of Mars is mostly owned by US multi-nationals; ominously, ground rents are already going up. Regolithopolis, which will rise from – and be built of – the dust and rubble of the Martian landscape, looks at this stage very much like Berlin just after the Second World War, with autonomous quarters run by Allied Martian Powers.
It pulls you up a bit sharp, seeing how small the British quarter of Regolithopolis is. It’s really not much. By the time I’ve done my light industrial district and Zaha’s posh bag shop has completed there won’t be much room for anything else. The British government, dependably clueless, has passed oversight of the whole enterprise to minister for pop-uption, the Hon. Aeneas Upmother-Brown, and his sinister swarm of pet bees.
They have now determined that the most important feature of British Regolithopolis is not its character but its location. How do you place it relative to London? Is Mars ‘north’ or ‘south’?
Obviously the bees, experts in these matters, have ruled that Mars is actually ‘augmented south-east’, at a stroke making it incredibly desirable.
FRIDAY Devise a new design style suitable for starter homes constructed from planetary dust: Martian Home Counties Vernacular.
SATURDAY Gentrify self, increasing sense of self-worth by three per cent a month.
SUNDAY Harvest Festival service at the Church of Christ the Renderer. Inspirational as ever to see epic space’s great and good coming together, humbly offering gifts to those less fortunate.
The place is bursting with signed vignettes, adorable little watercolours, abstract collages, even some traditional balsa wood models. These will all be distributed during the next week to poor folk who may not have had a proper square vision for days.
Charity may begin at home, but on this special day the kindness of auteurs seems mostly to originate in a dream landscape punctuated by impossibly elegant, free-flowing, maximised atria enveloped by whatever you fancy, very reasonable rates.