IN SEARCH OF LIVING ARCHITECTURE   Oceanic scientists place a bottlenose dolphin mother in one tank. They place her baby in a separate tank. Mother and baby cannot see each other. An underwater mike and speaker system however, lets mother and baby hear each other. Immediately and constantly, baby and mother start squeaking, squawking and clicking back and forth, excited, agitated.   When the electronics are turned off, both mother and baby soon quit any noise making except for the occasional sonar bong, seeking each other.   Without question, dolphins communicate.   What would it be like to speak the secret language of dolphins? What words would we use to probe the depths, to describe the joy of swimming free and fast? How would we project fear, or reveal a food source, or communicate contentment?   Like dolphins, architects speak a different language.   Architects spend five or six years at University learning the language of architecture. It is a distinct language not spoken by anyone else on campus except the College of Art, where exists some crossover of meaning.   Colleges of Architecture have separate libraries.  Architectural students rarely venture forth into the rest of the campus. They arrive early, leave late and sometimes live in studio. The architectural student is given daily doses of creative endorphins reinforced with a new language that they alone speak. This sets them apart. This makes them unique. It is a new religion, a cult of architecture.   The initiate architect enters the world of making a living with a unique set of skills backed up by an Architectural Geek Speak. Careers and lives are spent honing the craft and like the cult, too often, by choice, by dogma, by language, architecture remains aloof, above or beyond understanding.   Ever read an architectural magazine?   They are as boring to most readers as morning-after bingo scores. The pages speak volumes of what is said by architects for architects. Only the pictures stand out as worth looking at and even these are weak two-dimensional attempts to communicate what the architect thinks, what the architect feels.   But the architect, caught within the cult of architecture, addicted to the uniqueness of an ability to speak a different language, finds himself alone and disconnected from the masses he portends to serve.   At the same time, the architect is wholly defined by the masses and how they feel witnessing and experiencing his architecture.   This is a very weird place to be, a true dichotomy.   Architects keep talking about architecture to each other. They do not know how to communicate to the world at large, to its public.   Likewise, the public tries to describe why it likes or does not like any particular work of architecture but does not know the words or the way to communicate to the architect.   When asked (and architects do not ask often enough), the public replies, "I don't know why. I just don't like it," or "I don't know why. I just feel good when I'm in that building."   We look at a building and we like it or we do not like it or we do not care (which is the worst critique of any architecture) and we don't have the vocabulary to explain why.      Like the scientists studying the language of dolphins, there is ultimately a simple science to understanding the language of architecture. It is the Language of Basic Design.   What would it be like to speak the secret language of architecture? How would it be to converse with an architect with the same power of understanding as the architect exploits?   We look at pictures in Architectural Digest or Progressive Architecture and we know what moves us and what bores us. So how do we describe the why of architecture?   For thirty years I have tried to speak architecture in a common tongue. In some ways, this has alienated me from other architects. It has always kept me from wanting to be part of the club of architects, the cult.   But trying to speak architecture in a common tongue has endeared me to many clients. Clients almost always end up as friends.   I imagine it is like learning to speak to a child. If you are going to communicate to the child, you become a child. You drop all pretences and haughty exclusivity of knowledge. You elevate communication to the same level of acknowledged respect.   You teach each other how to say what we want each other to know and to feel.   Damn! I may be onto something profound here!   Let's see how many of you out there would like to speak the language of architecture.   Write back to me. Let me know if you think it would be worthwhile for me to create an Architectural Primer, a simple, descriptive, easy to learn set of words and terms and reference skills that would give you the power to communicate perfectly the "Why of What you Feel," about architecture.     All architecture encapsulates space. Space is the whole of architecture. The Space of architecture is bounded by the same coordinates used to describe any three-dimensional space: height, width and depth.