SO WE'RE ON A PLANE to the Venice (architecture) biennale, a sort of long overdue honeymoon, so long that it includes our 7 year old son, and my wife is glued to her phone as usual, thumbs flying. Suddenly she is still. She starts weeping. I ask her what’s the matter. By now she is sobbing. She just says: Eric Kahn.

For most of Eric Kahn’s life and career the juxtaposition of his name and her manner would have been unthinkable. He was a god of joy and fierce seeker of beauty—sadness was banished from his presence. But I know by her look what has happened without her saying because over the year