Houses are not built according to musical keys,
as far as I know.
But this is my musical moment,
so I will make it so.
Behold A Key to unlock your door!
Goethe aptly described music as liquid architecture; and architecture as frozen music. As a violinist, musical metaphors have always permeated my life. The more I see, the more I understand the subtle web that connects all things: a house and all that it contains.
The Light House is designed in A major. It could have been C or even E, but certainly not F. You may astutely observe that A is for architecture, but that is entirely beside the point.
A major is a luminous key with clarity of ring.
Lighthearted, it will make you want to sing.
To feel this key, and imagine its architectural equivalent, you could start with the A major Prelude & Fugue from the Well-Tempered Clavier by J.S. Bach, one of his masterpieces in miniature form. From the Fugue, you may even hear arise an exalted chorus of baroque birdsong.
You might also liken the Light House to Mozart: his Clarinet Concerto or his Quintet for Clarinet and Strings (b
oth composed in A major). When you wake up in your Light House, you should feel just as exuberant as those birds in the nearby trees.
The Light House has been designed like an object, and a musical instrument would be a fitting object indeed. Maybe not a violin (as much as I’d like, with its womanly curves), but rather a clarinet, light in hand, crafted into a straight and simple form of metal and wood. The clarinet calls out to us, clear and crisp. Clarity of sound and in sight: that is what makes this house so bright.
The Light House may not be a work of symphonic proportions, but is there not something visionary about it? Does it not hold a key for a brighter future? Does it not sound an A string to which the entire orchestra tunes? Does it not beckon us ahead like Beethoven’s 7th Symphony, that A major monument of music if ever there has been one?