Jealous Gods

What does Pasolini love?

the chaos of voices
filth is real, filth is honest
refusal of silence
resilience of the workers
connection of people
Aesthetic of Decay
persistence of myths
Mythology
Human connection

Raging Streets

What does Pasolini hate?

illusion of prosperity
neon advertisements
luxury goods
concrete suffocation
fetishizing of colonial relics
Consumerism a form of oppression
Exploitation of the Poor
Animal Abuse
This Project

The gods come together thus [1].

Zeus, son of Cronus the king [2] glares through the glass. “We came here to Mumbai not as conquerors, but as refugees. We bring warning.”

Shiva’s silence burns brighter than fire. “Then speak.”

Apollo [3] gestures toward the market below. “Look at them—faking prayers while placing your images in shops and wellness ads. It had become a tourist attraction” [4].
Vishnu replies calmly. “And yet they still offer us flowers.”
Dionysus [5] snorts. “We received these offerings once. Now we are metaphors—moodboards, costumes. Your match still burns. But for how long?”
Zeus leans forward. “We are all in danger” [6]. What was worship has become spectacle. What was divine is now domestic. You think you’re immune, but the most obvious is the danger of foreign conquest” [7] - by markets, not armies.”

Brahma strokes his beard. “You lost your altars. You come to protect ours—or envy them?”
Apollo smirks. “We come for Reclamation of Contaminated Land” [8]. A chance to return. The labyrinth below breeds forgetting. At its heart, something feeds.”
Dionysus raises a glass tumbler. “Yes. The Minotaur within Crawford Market, half-culture, half-consumerism. For madness can go no further than this” [9] —a world where gods are printed on yoga mats and forgotten at festivals.”
Vishnu counters: “And yet, they deserve respect, however, and should be worshipped with a divine ritual” [10]. Not consumed.”

Zeus’s voice softens. “I’m offering alliance” [11]. We remember how it ends. Let us walk with you. Lend us your fire.”
Brahma’s eyes narrow. “The exchange is started again” [12]. But what do you suggest, Olympians?”
Apollo glares. “Unknown gods tend to be very useful. [13] He is either a son of Zeus or Poseidon. We are not sure.” [11]
The Trimurti share an angry glance between them. “This is exactly how you lost power, Olympians. Your treatment of mortals is of impropriety, insignificance, insubstantiality.” [14]

The King of Olympus swallows his pride and addresses his kin one last time:
Let us stand together—not above the people, but before them.

As one pantheon reborn—not pure, but powerful.

We are not here to be understood.

We are not here to be forgiven.

We are not here to be loved.

We are here to be worshipped.

Crawford Marketing

To Pier Paolo Pasolini,

Noise, pollution, increased danger.[1] You would hate it here; you would love it. The fetishization of a time long gone, the human connection, the advertisements giving a sense of prosperity, and the persistence of myth. Crawford Market in Mumbai is a stage where the city's reality is its illusion. Mumbai thrives on consumption and upward mobility,[2] layers of excess repulsing as much as they attract.[3] The transformation from city to megacity is not mere population growth[4] but a spectrum of the inexplicable. The human traffic is overpowering.[5] The city wants our labour.[6] A city of smoke wreathed within a city of trade.[7] This is the horror of the city.[8]

Pollution here does not choke the throat but clouds the eyes and mind with its colourful facade. Here, pollution changes the Perspective of Colour.[9] Concepts become colourful; the colour shows their intensity.[10] It is beauty accepting its own mortality.[11] Pier, you love the realness of the situation—so tell me, Why Should We Care about Chemical Pollution?[12] The sensation of color is the most popular form of aesthetic sense.[13] People are dying.[14] The elms are still dying, and so are the birds.[15] Yet, Dying is life, too.[16] Why oppose pollution by generalising it?[17] The pollution is sweetened, masked by a signifier of freshness.[18] Here is the beauty of science.[19]

The Market is a place of stimulating yet fleeting interactions, marked by quasi-authoritarianism, clientelism, and a game of cunning. A great deal of noise and air pollution plagues the plaza.[22] We must construct a spectacle that captures this grotesque ballet of consumption, stimulation, pollution, and myths. You would love Crawford—it thrives on hustling, human connection, and cacophony. It is a maze that can elicit fear in the unwary traveller.[23] Colourful stands of fresh produce sit alongside slithering snakes and sacks of somnolent toads.[24] Mesmerizing spices contrast with stark animal cruelty—a dance where fantasy and abuse are one.

But Pier, what if I told you that in Hindu mythology, there is no labyrinth? No Minotaur, no Theseus, no salvation. Instead, there is something more insidious: the Maya Sabha. Built by Maya for the Pandavas, it was a masterpiece of illusion.[32] Warriors were ensnared, not by walls, but by deception.[33] The market does not confine—it intoxicates. It demands constant stimulation.[34] You do not lose yourself in corridors but in a flood of color, sound, movement. There is no single path, no center. Here, people feed on each other for stimulation, information, satisfaction.[35][36]
Crawford Market is not a place; it is a phenomenon, one that lures, entrances, consumes. The Minotaur demands sacrifice, but here, sacrifice is voluntary—for sensation, for survival, for the illusion of prosperity. Light provides instant stimulation.[37] The creative manipulation of light and shadow fosters curiosity and mystery.[38] What it offers is not balance but ecstasy, intoxication.[39] Wherever there are people, there is pollution.[40]

Yours,
Crawford Marketing Inc.
 

[1] Serres, The Five Senses, [2] Lovejoy Boas, Primitivism and Related Ideas in Antiquity, [3] Joyce, Ulysses, [4] Morrissey, The Genius in the Design, [5] Calasso, The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony, [6] Pier Paolo Pasolini, [7] Schmitt, The Cambridge History of Renaissance Philosophy, [8] Zimring, Encyclopedia of Consumption and Waste, [9] Foucault, History of Madness, [10] Seneca, Complete Works, [11] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology, [12] Deleuze, Cinema 2 The Time Image, [13] Varoufakis Halevi Theocarakis, Modern Political Economics Making sense of the post-2008 world, [14] Wall, Radical Passivity

To Crawford Marketing Inc.,
You speak of seduction, myth, spectacle—without once naming what film is. You stitch words like garlands around an absence: vision.

You call me to Mumbai, to Crawford Market, where "colourful stands of fresh produce sit alongside the buckets of slithering snakes and sacks of somnolent toads." [1] You see spectacle. I see desperation lacquered in LED gloss. You mistake clutter for cinema, chaos for critique.

You want to trap the audience in sensation. But "the stimulation is not that of the discoverer of a diamond, which is a physical entity that may be monopolized or exploited only to the owner’s advantage." [2] You want sensation, not meaning. A hall of mirrors is not a camera.

You quote light pollution like scripture, but forget that "light provides instant stimulation; but time takes... time." [3] You want it all at once. That’s not film. That’s content. And content, my dear Ariadne, is the Minotaur now.

You claim the market is a new myth. I say, "the labyrinth was originally a military and political structure designed to trap enemies inextricably in a maze." [4] Yours isn’t a myth. It’s marketing. Your goddess speaks in hashtags.

And what is light pollution if not a wall made of false stars? What is overstimulation if not a labyrinth of the senses, where every path leads to exhaustion?

"Light pollution, artificial light that brightens the night sky, disrupts stargazers and the natural activities of nocturnal creatures." [5] But what are stars to us, when "the flood of artificial light and air pollution have made them ever more difficult to see?" [6] Imagine the resentment this will breed. "It is poetic understanding and justifiable hate." [7]

This is not a film. This is a theater of distraction, where hunger is drowned in trade, where nothing is still. Colonial relics wrapped in neon. In this light, "the poor are exploited and people suffer; excess burns." [8]

"The result is that today in many cities we have the worst of all worlds: danger without pleasure, safety without stimulation, consumerism without choice, monumentality without diversity." [9]

So let them rage. "If the people want, then let us gift them the fury and excitement of the mob." [10] "What more inevitable consequence than rage against its conditions and its custodians?" [10]

I am already in Mumbai. Not as collaborator. Not as accomplice.

As undertaker.

If this film must be made, let it at least die with style.

—
Pier Paolo Pasolini

The Bargaining

[1] Kepler, New Astronomy; [2] Levi-Strauss, Tristes Tropiques; [3] Ackroyd, London: A Biography; [4] Hollis, Cities Are Good For You; [5] Leslie, Synthetic Worlds; [6] Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968; [7] Lefebvre, The Production of Space; [8] Cruickshank, A History of Architecture in 100 Buildings; [9] Marinetti, The Futurist Cookbook; [10] Javid, World Heritage Monuments and Related Edifices in I; [11] Hatherley, A New Kind of Bleak: Journeys Through Urban Britain; [12] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology.

[1] Kepler, New Astronomy; [2] Nonnos, Dionysiaca; [3] Cruickshank, A History of Architecture in 100 Buildings; [4] Marinetti, The Futurist Cookbook; [5] Joyce, Ulysses; [6] Hatherley, A New Kind of Bleak: Journeys Through Urban Britain; [7] Hatherley, A New Kind of Bleak: Journeys Through Urban Britain; [8] Javid, World Heritage Monuments and Related Edifices in I

[1] Powers, The Overstory, [2] Zorn, Arcana 5, [3] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology, [4] Speck, Walkable City, [5] Frampton, Modern Architecture: A Critical History, [6] Semper, Style in the Technical and Tectonic Arts or Practical Aesthetics, [7] Rijks, Catalysts of Knowledge

[1] de Condillac, Philosophical Writings of Etienne Bonnot, [2] Ammon, Bulldozer: Demolition and Clearance of the Postwar, [3] Watson, Heaven’s Breath, [4] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology, [5] Tagore, The Home and the World, [6] Calasso, Ka: Stories of the Mind and Gods of India*, [7] Spinoza, Complete Works, [8] Joyce, Ulysses, [9] Parisi, Abstract Sex, [10] Powers, The Overstory

The Minotaurs Dispair

Our Promise

The gods once met on Olympus and Meru, where wind spoke of fate.
Now the olympian divinity is threadbare, worn thin by time and cultural pollution.
They wear designer suits and gather in glass penthouses above Crawford Market, staring down in jealousy at their eastern kin.

Mumbai—city of stench, sound, and spiraling spirit—lives in infamy, divine and diseased.
Before the hero can face the Minotaur, the Gods demand a crueler trial:
he must first survive the streets of the city itself.

Crawford is no passive labyrinth—it won’t reveal its monster to just anyone.
It snarls like a vendor, sly and sharp, haggling with the Hero at every turn.
It hides its heart, shifts its streets, and speaks in riddles of neon and noise.
Only the worthy will glimpse the beast. The rest get lost in the bargain.

At last, the Minotaur reveals itself—no longer a beast, but a mirror.
Pollution seeps inward, threading through the Hero’s veins like memory.
The monster does not roar—it pleads.
It wants to survive.

The gods seethe in silence.
So why resist?
If they cannot defeat the cultural pollution,
they will make it divine.

CRAWFORD MARKETING — 10 RULES FOR DIVINE BRANDING

1. Hire a Man of Myths to Film the Myths
Pasolini knew the difference between performance and passion. Make him hate his own work.

2. The Minotaur Has Rebranded
It no longer roars—it advertises. Half-consumerism, half-culture, it devours not bodies, but divinity.

3. Save the Local Myths
Genius Loci. Local branding works.

4. Destroy Isolation
Our advertisements aim to bring communities closer together.

5. Bring Our Own Myths
Pollution is exchange. We carry heritage as payload.

6. Gift the Space for Cultural Exchange
The spaces we build shall bring connection.

7. The beauty of Pollution
For us, pollution is excess. Excess is people. People make community. Communities exchange culture. Culture = pollution.

8. Scenography
Show the sewage. Show the saffron. Make them indistinguishable. This is our palette.

9. Shape the Urbanism
Deepen the site. Use the character of the city. Market it as labyrinth.

10. Build a Divine Contract with the Citizens
You are invited to participate in a shared ritual of memory, myth, and market—where presence is devotion and every exchange is sacred.

Myths, rebranded

The gods no longer whisper from mountaintops.
They flood the world… with light, sound, and advertisement.
Not to be feared. Not to be hated.
But to be worshipped.

"Between Dharma and Drama, We Build Brands"

Sandro Gabardi

According to legend [1], heroes begin their journey with a burden.
Mine began at the temple of Mumbadevi—cloaked in marigold, watching through incense and engine smoke. She gave no words, only a red thread tied to my wrist, frayed and half-burned. It tugged forward.

To Crawford Market. To the Labyrinth.

Beyond that point, adventure began [2]. Mumbai surrounded me—impossible, infinite. Past and present collide in a thousand different forms [3]: colonial balconies lit by LED vines incense drifting past billboard screens, shrines tucked between phone repair shops and glowing ads.

The human traffic of Mumbai is overpowering [4]. The air itself fought back—breath, the action of life, sucks in pollution, life’s choker [5]. Still, I followed the thread deeper.
Let us first examine the Labyrinth [6]. The labyrinth... was originally a military and political structure designed to trap enemies inextricably in a maze [7]. Crawford Market was designed to feed and distract. A beast of consumerism and devotion, stitched from the wreckage of discarded rituals and flashing sale signs.
What was once a vision of beauty is now one of heartbreaking decay and desolation [8]. The old watchtower standing above Crawford Market as an eternal guardian has seen the decay firsthand. From market to neon attraction. How many people did the clock see getting lost inside?

I ducked wires, crossed thresholds. The thread led nowhere and everywhere. Then it stopped.

Believe me: we will need courage [9].
The inside is very much like a maze [10].
I felt watched from every corner.
I wasn’t alone.

That encounter needs to happen, and it needs to happen urgently. [11]
Beneath the waters of the old Fountain I could see the realm of the Gods.
For our safety [12], I murmered as I flicked a coin into the endless deep and jumped after it.

First, I noticed a slight haze [1], a shimmer across Crawford Market like oil on water. The air bent light, bent space. As I crawled out from the Fountain into this new realm, the red thread on my wrist twitched. The Minotaur was near. Watching. Waiting.

Inside, the space is inhabited by colorful people [2]—vendors, beggars, tourists. Colourful stands of fresh produce sit alongside the buckets of slithering snakes and sacks of somnolent toads [3]. Everything bright, loud, vivid. Too vivid. The spicing up of basic foods appears in a colourful scene [4], both dazzling and stomach-churning.

But it was all surface. Facade. In every mirrored surface was the reflection of a diffrent God.

The paths here seem endless. There was no pattern! [5]—corridors folded in on themselves, doorways led to nothing. Light glared from a thousand blinking ads. Icons flickered in and out of vision. Both result in disorientation [6].

Shops changed position. I swear I had passed that cracked statue of Apollo before—still blindfolded. Still judging. The red thread looped. Mocking me.
And yet, others do not seem to share my daze.
For them this state of disorientation was normal! [7] They’ve forgotten what this place is.

The vendors smiled too easily. Their chatter too loud. Stalls of fruit, trinkets, incense—a show. A veil. If you ask the wrong question, they laugh. If you look too long, they block your view. Every path is curated. Every corner guarded by a security camera.

Your footsteps echo down the stone labyrinth [8].

Beneath the stall fronts, beneath the plastic gods and turmeric piles, something shifts. Something breathes. They all know it’s there. And they fear what happens if you find it.

The Minotaur is not lost.
It is hiding beneath the confusion.
And everyone here is trying to keep it that way

It emerged from a hidden backroom in the center of the market, bathed in LED light—not a beast, not a god, Half-consumerism, half-culture.
The shape arrests them [1]. It gives him a tangible form.
The Minotaur.
The thread trembled. The gods above us are watching—uneasy.

The Minotaur stood still—stitched from torn myth and discarded packaging, rust flaking from it’s body. Its eyes met mine, not with rage, but sorrow.
“When I began, my path seemed lonely” [2], I said. Ready to strike.

The thread at my wrist slackened, shining faintly. “Oil?” [3] I asked. "No Not oil.“ The minotaur began, „Memory. Breath. Incense. Smog. Connection. Wherever there are lots of people, there is lots of pollution [4]“ The old gods warned me in the same manner. But what if the crowd was not poison?

“The people?” [3] I asked.

It nodded. “Exchange the culture” [5], it said, bitterly. As if it‘s survival was betrayal.
Its patchwork body shimmered with color contrasts [6]: turmeric, plastic flowers, saris, neon. Old and new stitched into something alive.
“But what if that was the point?” [7] I asked.
Not collapse. Not decay. But transformation.

I cut off the red Thread restraining my wrist.
I laid down my blade.
The Gods shivered.
I stepped forward.
I couldn’t kill the Minotaur. It wept, then exhaled.
The Gods need a monster to fear. The market survives through him.

And so, I walked out of the labyrinth.
No longer a hero. No longer alone.

The labyrinth had spit out the hero—changed, threadless, worthless.
A symbol too tired to stand. A hero who never existed [1], Brahma murmured with a hint of pity.
The Olympians stood grim-faced, their divinity ragged, but their ambition intact. The roots of the resentment are deep [2], and none deeper than Zeus’s.
“He failed,” Vishnu said, voice low, fathomless and subtle [3]. “He laid down his arms. Walked out holding nothing but questions.”

Dionysus sneered, swaying slightly. “He’s drunk or something” [4].

Shiva’s third eye remained closed. “Shiva is the Lord of Chaos” [5], he reminded them. “And we—” he gestured to himself, to Vishnu, to Brahma—“we’ve survived it by becoming part of the noise.”
Zeus bristled. “Noise is not worship.”
Apollo gestured to the LED signs above fruit stalls, their faces flashing among detergent ads and reality show promos. “It could be.”
“Call it a myth,” Dionysus whispered [4].
The Indian gods smiled, mirthless.
“You lost your thrones,” Vishnu said, “not to war—but to whisper. To exchange. To irrelevance.”
“But why resist?” Shiva offered now, gaze heavy with irony. “If they will not come to the altar, we will walk through their screens.”
Brahma agreed [6].

Zeus looked down through the glass at the marketplace—at gods wrapped around energy drinks, avatars, mascots.
“This is villainy,” he muttered.
For in relation to such a perverted human nature, villainy would be virtue [7].
“Then let it be divine,” Shiva said. “Let us drown the world in reminders. Billboards, banners, pop-ups, stickers on water tanks. Let them choke on devotion.”
“Choking with bloody foolery” [8], Apollo muttered, but he was smiling.
“Alignment, then?” Dionysus said, raising a glass.
“Alliance,” Vishnu corrected.
“A campaign,” Brahma added.
So the gods make their final vow:

If we cannot be remembered through prayer, we will be remembered through presence.

If it must be, we ally with the Minotaur.
Images have no centre, no direction and orientation. [9]

We will flood the world with adverts and algorithms.

We will possess the image.

It’s a new enough myth. [10]

Marcel Siess

"The gods don’t meet
except to make war."[1]

[1] Clement, The Planetary Garden and Other Writings

[1] Gratz, The Battle for Gotham New York, [2] Zimring, Encyclopedia of Consumption and Waste, [3] Cohen, The Sustainable City, [4] Greenspan, Shanghai Future Modernity Remade, [5] Hollis, Cities Are Good For You, [6] Hollis, Cities Are Good for You, [7] Ackroyd, London A Biography, [8] Ackroyd, London A Biography, [9] Hovestadt Buehlmann, Quantum City, [10] Roman, Play Among Books, [11] Cacciari, The Unpolitical, [12] Gershwin, Jellyfish A Natural History, [13]Marx, Collected Works, [14] Schildberger, On Food, [15] Carson, Silent Spring, [16] Powers, The Overstory, [17] Watkin, Michel Serres, [18] Leslie, Synthetic Worlds, [19] Lane, The vital question, [20] Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968, [21] Simone, New Urban Worlds Inhabiting Dissonant Times, [22] Herzog, Return to the center: Culture, public space, and city building in a global era, [23]Ackroyd, Venice Pure City, [24] Greenspan, Shanghai Future Modernity Remade, [25] AHays, Architecture Theory since 1968, [26] Carter, Shaking A Leg, [27] The doorless, labyrinth layout ensures hands free entry., [28] Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968, [29] Rand, The Fountainhead, [30] Haraway, Staying with the Trouble, [31] Leslie, Synthetic Worlds, [32] Mahabharata, Sabha Parva (Mahabharata), [33] Mahabharata (Mahabharata, Sabha Parva), [34] Speck, Walkable City, [35] Kellert, Biophilic Design The Theory Science and Practice, [36] Goldsmith, Capital New York Capital of the 20th Century, [37] Unwin, Analysing Architecture, [38] Kellert, Biophilic Design The Theory Science and Practice, [38] Gratz, The Battle for Gotham New York, [39] Frankl, The Gothic, [40] Speck, Walkable City,

[1] Hovestadt & Buehlmann, Quantum City, [2] Roman, Play Among Books, [3] Cacciari, The Unpolitical, [4] Mahabharata, Sabha Parva, [5] Zimring, Encyclopedia of Consumption and Waste, [6] Tsoukala, Intersections of Space and Ethos, [7] Kunstler, Geography of Nowhere, [8] Cacciari, The Unpolitical, [9] Borden, Gender Space Architecture, [10] Ackroyd, London: A Biography

Welcome to Crawford Marketing Inc.
We are a divine branding agency operating at the intersection of myth, market, and megacity. Headquartered in Mumbai’s Crawford Market, we specialize in the strategic revitalization of ancient deities through contemporary platforms—offering full-spectrum identity services for gods facing obsolescence. From ShivaSpin™ Eternal Rotation to LakshmiPay Microblessings and Brahma ThinkTank AI™, our campaigns turn ritual into experience and belief into engagement metrics.
We don’t advertise; we anoint. Our offerings include ambient devotion activations, shrine-based product placements, myth-enhanced digital interfaces, and urban scenography tailored for high-impact reverence. Drawing inspiration from post-sacred cities and the legacy of Pasolini’s cinema of resistance, we embrace pollution—visual, spiritual, and semiotic—as the new divine medium.
This is the mythology of Crawford Market, jealous Gods, an unknown hero fighting an uphill battle and a minotaur in the depths off the market. .
While you are here remember:

Our Divine Story

1. Myths, rebranded - Video

2. Jealous Gods

3. Raging Streets

4. The Bargaining

5. The Minotaurs Dispair

6. Our Promise

Ariadne's Thread

Indra's Net

Our Associates

The Sacred

The Profane

The Mythic

The Contradictory

Chalermchai Kositpipat, Wat Rong Khun (Chiang Rai, Thailand)

Guðjón Samúelsson, Hallgrímskirkja (Reykjavík, Iceland)

Ustad Khalil, Jama Masjid (Delhi, India)

Unknown, Minara Masjid (Mumbai, India)

Unknown, Zakaria Masjid (Mumbai, India)

Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin (supervising patron), Raudat Tahera (Mumbai, India)

Portuguese Jesuits (rebuilt structure, 1904), Mount Mary Church (Mumbai, India)

Emil B. Fetzer, Washington D.C. Temple (Kensington, Maryland, USA)

Baikdoosan Architects & Engineers, Ryugyong Hotel (Pyongyang, North Korea)

Unknown, Siddhivinayak Temple (Mumbai, India)

Unknown, Shri Mumbadevi Temple (Mumbai, India)

Chola Dynasty under Raja Raja Chola I, Brihadishvara Temple (Thanjavur, India)

Unknown, Vaishno Devi Temple (Katra, Jammu & Kashmir, India)

Bohlin Cywinski Jackson, Apple Store, Fifth Avenue (New York City, USA);
OMA / Rem Koolhaas, Fondazione Prada (Milan, Italy);
Wonderwall / Gwenael Nicolas, Gentle Monster Flagship Store (Seoul, South Korea);
Burberry Architecture Team with Thomas Heatherwick Studio Burberry Pop-Up (Jeju Island, South Korea);
Herzog & de Meuron, Primark Flagship Store (Madrid, Spain);
GAP In-House Design Team with Gensler, GAP Flagship (New York City, USA);
Nike Retail Design with TPG Architecture, Nike House of Innovation 000 (New York City, USA);
Sybarite Architects, Gentle Monster Flagship (Beijing, China);
Denis Montel (RDAI), Hermès Maison Ginza (Tokyo, Japan);
Gensler, Starbucks Reserve Roastery (New York City, USA);
Atul Ruia, Phoenix Palladium Mall (Mumbai, India);
Dalziel & Pow, Primark Birmingham Flagship (Birmingham, UK);
Der Scutt (Swanke Hayden Connell Architects), Trump Tower (New York City, USA).

Herzog & de Meuron, Elbphilharmonie (Hamburg, Germany)

Unknown (17th-century palace), Escher in Het Paleis (The Hague, Netherlands)

Heatherwick Studio, Longchamp Store (New York City, USA)

Zaha Hadid, MAXXI – National Museum of 21st Century Arts (Rome, Italy)

Oberto Airaudi (Falco Tarassaco), Temples of Humankind (Damanhur, Italy)

Thomas Heatherwick, Vessel (New York City, USA)

Heatherwick Studio, Zeitz Museum of Contemporary Art Africa (MOCAA) (Cape Town, South Africa)

Daniel Libeskind, Royal Ontario Museum – Michael Lee-Chin Crystal (Toronto, Canada)

Beomsik Won, Archisculpture Photo Project (Conceptual/Global)

Amenábar Arquitectos, CSAV Headquarters (Valparaíso, Chile)

Ross & MacFarlane (original, 1912); Diamond Schmitt Architects & KWC Architects (renovation, 2020), Government Conference Centre (Ottawa, Canada)

Oakley & Parkes (original, 1931); Bates Smart with Lovell Chen (renovation, 2020), Hilton Melbourne Little Queen Street (Melbourne, Australia)

Information on the architect for HydroTherm is not readily available.

ODOS Architects with O'Donnell O'Neill Design, The Mayson Hotel (Dublin, Ireland)

RKW Architektur + (RKW GmbH + Co. KG), Nationale Akademie der Wissenschaften Leopoldina (Halle, Germany)

J. Hindertz (original, late 19th century); Union of Romanian Architects (modern addition), Paucescu House (Bucharest, Romania)

Bernard Khoury / DW5, Tumo Center for Creative Technologies (Yerevan, Armenia)

MVRDV, EU TUMO Convergence Center (Yerevan, Armenia)

"They wear designer suits and gather in glass penthouses above Crawford Market, staring down in jealousy at their eastern kin."

"Beneath the waters of the old Fountain I could see the realm of the Gods"

"It emerged from a hidden backroom in the center of the market, bathed in LED light—not a beast, not a god, Half-consumerism, half-culture."