David Sedaris: “What do I write about now?”
Mr. Sedaris, how funny was your day today?
I had fun visiting Munich, it was fun trying to speak German to people. But so far, nothing really funny has happened today — but the day’s not over yet!
Do you get tired of people expecting you to be funny all the time?
You know, I was signing books last night and I was talking to somebody and I wasn’t saying anything funny. I just was asking them if they lived far from the theater or something like that — and they laughed at everything. And I think sometimes people get it in their head that they’re going to laugh, so they just do it because that’s what they told themselves that they were going to do.
Antoine Predock: “You keep the doorway open”
Mr. Predock, as an architect living in Albuquerque, New Mexico, what does the desert mean to you?
There’s a latent power, a mystery about the desert that has always intrigued me. My desert exposure started when I was a kid and I guess it really stuck with me — it’s a hypnotic kind of place and my beginnings in architecture are obviously here. My earliest memory of architecture would be coming to New Mexico in the 50’s and seeing the power of the big, blank adobe wall — especially the church in Las Trampas, New Mexico. The big, mute wall really compelled me. There’s an aura in the desert that is inescapable.
An aura? What do you mean?
I don’t think you can think about aura — aura is like some essence that’s ineffable, intangible and indescribable. It’s like what you get to Ryoan-ji in Kyoto: of all the gardens there, this is a spectacular garden of gravel and stone — period. Here’s a way to think about that: the great Spanish poet, Federico García Lorca talked about “duende.”