Living vicariously

By Kathleen MooreCastleView 3D | Like CastleView 3D on Facebook

one fringe benefit of a career in 3D rendering

Lately, the short winter days have me missing the long twilight hours of summer. So I put together this 3D rendering of a patio and reflecting pool at dusk to remind myself how great it feels to sit out on the deck with friends on a summer evening, drinking wine, talking, and laughing as the light slowly disappears from the sky.

CastleView 3D rendering of a waterlily pond at dusk

[click to view full-size image]

And it started me thinking about one of the reasons that my work in architectural modeling and rendering is so rewarding:  I get to live vicariously.  When I create a 3D model of your new home or remodeled space, I get to know it very intimately.  I live in it during the time I spend creating it.  I explore all its nooks and crannies.  In some ways, I may know your home better than you ever will.  So many details about a home that the homeowner never thinks about, I have to think about in order to make it look convincingly realistic.

And when I’m working, I also get the vicarious thrill of watching someone’s dreams take shape.  It’s really very exciting when something that previously only existed inside a client’s mind — or perhaps as a 2D blueprint, if they’ve gotten that far — suddenly comes to life in full color on the screen, looking almost as real as a photograph.  It’s magical.

I may be blessed with a particularly vivid imagination, but when I’m adding new granite countertops to a 3D rendering of someone’s kitchen remodel, for example, I can almost feel the glassy smoothness and rounded edges as the image develops on the screen.  I find myself trying to picture the lives that will unfold in that space.

Same with the rendering of the summer evening on the patio above:  I can imagine myself sitting on the warm flagstones, dangling my bare feet in the cool water, smelling the slight tang of chlorine and citronella in the air, feeling the breeze lifting my hair, and hearing the cries of the birds as they head for their nighttime roosts in the surrounding trees.  Perhaps creating something in such fine visual detail necessarily engages the other senses as well?

Because of this vicarious existence, I know that when I finally walk through the doors of the Clubhouse at The Reserve (the rendering project I posted about the other day) and see it for the first time, I’ll have an eerie sense of recognition and deja vu.

Because I’ve already spent many, many hours there.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.