An almost (not quite) totally nonverbal tour of the works of the great Catalan architect, the works of some of his contemporaries and predecessors, and his general cultural surroundings: it's the sort of pictorial essay which the experimentalists, avant-gardists, montage theorists of the 1920s would have wisely kept to under or near half an hour, and kept light on its feet. Hiroshi Teshigahara takes roughly three times that long, and though the thing is glossily photographed in color, it is put together with not much in the way of a compelling or sustaining rhythm. The effect is rather as if we were sitting beside Teshigahara on the living-room couch, with him turning the pages of a fifty-dollar coffee-table picture book at a pace that never quite suits us, and in an atmosphere choked with incense and candles and New Age music. The last thing on earth this outlandish architectural fantasist needs is to be approached with the attitude that we must all have died and gone to heaven. (1984) — Duncan Shepherd
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