TwoCents | From Dominique Francon

All around my world is the muck of collective mediocrity – it’s all the same stuff we resigned ourselves to. I always knew it was short of greatness, but I never thought that greatness was attainable; so I despised it – despised myself for wanting it and so I punished myself. The buildings’ designers were utterly unaware or complicit in this disdain for originality. There was hardly a unique building or space in sight. I was engaged to one of these architects once – Peter Keating was his name – and I am writing to inscribe my sins so I might finally forgive myself. You see, I fell in love with another man, and he changed me. I have since left Gail Wynard, and it’s not him I’m writing about. I am referring to the only man I ever knew to survive this wicked world: Howard Roark – people live everyday, but he’s the one I’ve known to keep his self-dedication even in the face of foolish odds.  In truth, Howard’s the only man I’ve ever loved; I fell for him against all resistance. In my mind, at the time, loving anyone was a loss of control I had no interest in – I would sooner destroy myself, resisting romance, than allow some other person the chance. I loved him from the moment I saw him working as a day laborer in the quarry – I later learned that he would rather do that than compromise on his architectural principles. I am confessing first to my long engagement in a sort of masochism; this world destroys individual freedoms or those seeking them. For this reason, I shrouded my person in the mundanity of an average life – I would sooner die by my hand than let this world destroy me while I chase the ideal; so I hid my spark. I was aware from the start that Keating was nothing more than average; in fact, I was engaged to him just for this reason. I have always had an eye for remarkable architecture; the sensibilities my father lacked no doubt impressed upon me. I did not have a perfect picture of what true architectural genius would look like, only that I would know it when it came. Keating’s career was an aberration to that dream. He very openly admitted to doing everything the people wanted instead of following his dreams just for the sake of fame; I found this to be insane, just the place to bury myself.  Howard Roark was the man who showed me that ideal. At first, I begged him to desist with the madness – chasing this originality would earn him only destruction; I offered sincerely a life with me away in the countryside – a regular job, safe from harm, but he refused without hesitation. He was unstoppable – nothing could shake his faith in himself and his ideas, not even the risk of death, obscurity, poverty, or imprisonment. Rest well, the soul of my late husband, Gail Wynand. He, I, and Howard Roark knew what greatness was. What set Howard apart from us was the fear we held. Gail built his empire manipulating the brainless nature of the masses – selling his filthy papers at the banner. Later on, after their friendship, he tried to follow along with Howard; tried to defend his principles staunchly. In the face of all the pressure of the world, he failed; he could not live with himself and so he took his own life. I did not love him, but I hold his memory as a reminder of the kind of destruction I lived in fear of, even as I live with a man that dares to transcend it. In time, I grew to accept Howard’s philosophy. A man’s life is his own to be lived and developed; the self-sacrificing orgy of the world is a direct opposition to it. Seeking a compromise is like designing a modernist masterpiece and then adding classical columns out of place with the soul of the building. It is a position of fear – the kind of fear I hope to now be rid of. <img src="/media/inline_insight_image/1000020698.jpg" alt=""> To myself,Dominique Francon If you’re familiar with The Fountainhead, you’ll be aware that I am evidently not Dominique Francon. I’ve written from her imaginary desk because this is the best place, I believe, to start a brief commentary on a film I’ve just thoroughly enjoyed (three times), and on Ayn Rand’s infamous philosophy of Objectivism.  I look forward to rewarding your interest. If you've enjoyed this, please click on the like button below, and consider leaving a tip.

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