The chance to revisit Going Clean, a favorite by Óscar Tusquets, reads like a summer essential for readers in North America. In a section titled The Creative Age, Tusquets asks aloud: at what moment does a person become capable of birthing a great creation? When does the spark of original work dim? He references a study reported by a journal from the American Institute of Physics that places the summit of creative release around age thirty-nine. To illustrate the point, he cites Albert Einstein, widely regarded as the greatest physicist of all time, who produced many landmark ideas by that age; and he notes how many celebrated mathematical proofs tend to emerge from minds under thirty. (Cited from Going Clean, Tusquets).
As the narrator nears thirty-nine, a mix of hope and anxiety surfaces: is the peak of creativity already behind, or simply awaiting a sharper edge? The youngest talents, such as Farshid Moussavi and Alejandro Zaera, won major competitions at twenty-nine and thirty-one respectively, while Sáenz de Oíza’s Shrine of Our Lady of Aránzazu was conceived by age thirty-two. By thirty-three, Fernando Higueras and Antonio Miró began work on a cultural project, while Ricardo Bofill completed Calpe’s iconic Red Wall at thirty-four. (Cited from Going Clean, Tusquets).
Architecture is a field that blends long, demanding apprenticeship with a web of artistic, structural, and economic considerations. It seems reasonable to suggest that great architects reveal themselves after substantial time and experience, a pattern seen in the life of Louis I. Kahn, who produced his major Yale work at fifty. (Cited from Going Clean, Tusquets).
Recent reflections in El País have explored whether architects tend to live longer and face fewer degenerative diseases. The article proposed that architecture fosters sustained cognitive engagement at advanced ages, supporting deeper neuronal connectivity and potentially delaying conditions like Alzheimer’s. The argument rests on the idea that continuous mental activity within the profession helps maintain brain networks and cognitive reserve. (Cited from El País).
Two seasoned Spanish architects, Rafael Moneo at eighty-five and Juan Navarro Baldeweg at eighty-three, were observed this year, and their work repeatedly demonstrated clarity and prudence that could seem almost serenely disciplined. Meanwhile, practitioners who continue to influence the field into advanced years—Frank Lloyd Wright, who kept designing into his nineties, and contemporaries like Robert Venturi, Miguel Fisac, Philip Johnson, IM Pei, and the late Oscar Niemeyer—underscore the sense that creativity can endure well past the conventional career arc. (Cited from Going Clean, Tusquets).
Over time, the writer acknowledges a growing ability to observe more and err less, even if the occasional misstep remains. The takeaway is a tempered approach to risk, a balance between bold ideas and measured execution. Tusquets’s perspective hints that risk, while essential to invention, should be weighed with experience and restraint.
There is a personal invitation embedded in the narrative: a request to one’s future self to trust the gradual, evolving process of creation, a reminder that patience can accompany achievement.
Ultimately, the piece pays homage to a tradition of architectural achievement that thrives on lifelong learning, continual curiosity, and the quiet confidence that comes with time spent refining a craft.
Dedicated to those who influence the conversation about design and its impact on daily life, the essay remains a testament to persistence and the enduring value of thoughtful practice.
Luis Navarro Jover, an architect and professor, is mentioned as part of the broader discussion of the profession, illustrating the bridge between classroom study and real-world achievement. (Cited from Going Clean, Tusquets).