Piano, in direct contrast with the usual bullish egos of architecture, is as thoughtful and responsive in conversation as in his work. If it's an act, it's a darn good one and difficult to resist. As Piano waxed Italian to the local press and pollies, sites were bought, buildings demolished, air-rights transferred, rules stroked, poked and stretched, horses traded. And all the while the poetic sostenuto , sotto voce, pianopiano. Nothing really dodgy, of course, and it was good to see ideas changing hands as much as the usual currency, but there was no doubt that Piano's capacity to charm the pants off the local populace was an essential project lubricant.
Few practitioners are guiltless in the blatant charm department.
But Piano, for all his skill there, is hardly your standard developer's architect, being strongly ideas-driven, deeply committed to the integrity of the whole and notoriously particular about detail. This is not something you can easily do via fax or modem, nor is it at first glance a cost-efficient process. Even intellectual seduction, though, can end in tears. Now, as romance gives way to the sober light of dawn, it is heartening to find that Piano has been as good as his word, leaving us with a building that is stylish, feminine and euphoric, saluting the Opera House, enriching the town and significantly raising the bar for commercial architecture in this part of the world. Sure, it's a top-end building and therefore not strictly comparable with regular commercial development.