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Architecture, like painting, entails non-verbal knowledge. That shouldn’t prevent writers from discussing it, but they usually prefer to talk about painting, which is a fairly “private” art, rather than architecture, even though the latter is “public.” Ironically, this lack of interest helps us to understand architecture. There is something very specific about it that resists language, commentary, and elucidation — it cannot be glossed. This something, which remains after all has been said, is the true skill of architects, their projective knowledge. Like painters, architects converse with each other over the centuries. This conversation helps us to define projective knowledge. In so doing this essay will retrace the projective fate — analogous to the critical fate — of a project for which there survive only poor photos of two lost drawings, namely Mies van der Rohe’s 1923 design of a brick house. It will simultaneously attempt to answer the highly important question asked by every architect who has designed a house: where do the bedrooms go?