That it does not look good makes it look good.
Two columns are enough. The roof is balanced. The columns rest firmly on the foundations. The foundations rest on the earth.
The two columns are stacks of bricks. Not even using a real masonry bond. Just the way bricks are stacked on a pallet.
Following the stacking, concrete was poured in from the top. Into the stack. And the concrete poured out through the openings between the stacked bricks.
The roof has been cast using the old planks of the previous pavilion. The roof is thin. Without roofing. The concrete has been levelled under a slight angle. The roof sags slightly. Because it is so light. While it is strong enough to not sag any further.
Before casting the roof, sand and gravel have been scattered into the cast. Clots of gravel are now part of the roof.
The foundations – or floor – are no different. A levelled surface. Raw. Its sides using the planks of the previous pavilion. Dismantled using brute tools. Chipping the concrete does not really matter.
Looking at the lake from behind the pavilion. All of it together makes it seem like concrete and stone want to become nature. Want to become, or rather can become.
Soon, moss will find its way all over. Inside the open seams, between the bricks, small birds will find their place. Spiders will house inside of the clots of gravel.
Despite being built, in its own way, the pavilion looks for a measure with nature.
Looking at the pavilion from the other side of the lake. The bricks of the columns want to find a measure with the brick mass of the castle.
With the mass of bricks. A mass which is given measure by seams and the interchanging of stones. Which is defining.
Mirrored together in the lakes. Castle and pavilion.