What I think was troubling, for some, was the ballots promise of an architecture. Let me retreat a little here… There is a story of a nun, on whose finger appeared the image of Christ, and which, upon touching, cured a fellow nun suffering from a fatal heart condition. Ive liked the story because of the comic potential of a nun brandishing her finger in an act of vital restoration, not to mention the pageantry that would have met the action of pointing or prodding. The story is wholly a continental departure; there is nothing Australian about a finger in the image of Christ. Rather, I use this story to enhance my enquiry of architecture as a medium for beautification and an assemblage of vital rejoice. If someone asked me what architecture was, I would say it is the tip of a finger that salvages the holy on earth. This may be at odds with those who labour under penalty in the profession. But God, of course, does not need a reason to punish.