School me...

Oh man, I'm getting old. I know because my wife told me, while I was being passed like I was standing still on the freeway distracted while talking about the weather. So, dismiss this post as the rantings of an almost middle-aged out of touch grouch if you want. But, this grouch is troubled by the ever widening gap between the architectural profession and the education of an architect.

The University of Nebraska chancellor has proposed a 25% tuition increase exclusively for architecture students. . He claims it is necessary to keep up with technology. It is an expensive major. Nebraska is not alone. These moves are happening all over the country.

Problem is: With all the focus on technology, with the tricked out computers and latest in software, schools are not producing graduates any more ready to "go to work" than they ever have. These students are producing stunning works of art...on the screen(or paper), but this school "work" is increasingly detached from what 99% of building designers will do with their careers.

We're currently looking at resume's from prospective summer interns. The use of technology is amazing. The graphics are fantastic. More than a little impressive, what these students can make a computer do. But, the work being shown is so void of tectonic understanding, so far from considering what it takes to make a building stand up, it is hard to see what they can offer to our firm. Oh yeah, they can help our graphics...that is if they are familiar with the software that we use. That changes quickly and with the universities spending to be at the forefront of technology there is a really good chance we're not using it...yet.

This is an old problem. The academy has diverging from the profession for decades. I went to a school where throwing a mattress on top of the kiosk in the quad, scaling said kiosk like a monkey, sitting on the mattress and eating a sandwich was the culmination of one student's thesis project. And, that student graduated, like the rest of us... An education in Architecture has always been a great liberal arts education. It teaches problem solving and critical thinking. It allows a mind to be opened and encourages looking at the world from different angles.

Unfortunately, with the focus shifting to technology more than ever, more time is involved in learning software and solving problems of rendering and printing and effects than actual designing.

All this means, for us, new fresh graduates are not particularly usefull for sometime after they join our firm. That's fine with us. We're happy to do some of the training. In fact, some would argue it is a great thing. The mentor/ mentee relationship in the workplace brings back the apprentice system and can, in the end, turn out some great professionals. But, this system comes at a cost.

We don't pay fresh graduates a lot. We can't. They're not worth that much. I'm not talking about their value as people. These are super smart, savvy, articulate people. They're presence makes us better. But, there is a limited amount they can actually contribute on day-to-day project tasks. The learning curve is pretty steep. They'll get there.

The question is: Can they afford to "get there"? With the salaries that we pay and student loan debt(made worse by tuition increases) can they make the ends meet? Architecture has long been derided as a rich man's profession. I hate to think that a recent graduate might have to work a second job in order to pay the rent, but that's reality for many graduates in their first couple of years out of school, unless the parents have paid for college or are subsidizing their lifestyle.

I think schools need to take some responsibility for this dilemma. Instead of charging students more tuition to fill the pockets of the latest software maker who dazzled the faculty, how 'bout getting in touch with how design firms actually work. How 'bout asking the places, where these students will eventually work, what they might need to know. Without the profession and the academy coming together we will continue to see the flight of architecture graduates to careers other than architecture....

Don't take the easy route

Nothing great was ever accomplished by taking the easy route.  I know it’s tempting.  After all, there are only so many hours in the day and there is a lot to do.  Cutting some corners to make your life simpler is only natural, right?  Sure…unless you want to be proud of what you do, create something original, or move the discourse of design forward.

Have you ever seen a new building and thought, “I feel like I’ve seen that before”, or “that looks a lot like…”.  It happens all the time.  Designers get out the books or the “Archiporn” online and create a building with an assemblage of parts from various sources.  They fail to realize that the sources they are using were created to solve specific problems, respond to certain context, or make use of available materials and technology.

Don’t get me wrong.  Genius doesn’t come out of ignorance, either.  I think it’s great to read, absorb, and soak up every bit of information there is out there.  It is how you use it that matters.  It all needs to seep into your brain, slosh around, and come out as new and different.  It needs to be thrown into the collective pile in your head, dismantled, pulverized and reconstituted as something original.  It is true that architecture has built on itself since the first people decided to put a door on their cave. But, the best designers draw from their knowledge bank for inspiration…only inspiration, not content.  They create, they don’t assemble.

It’s tougher this way.  It’ll lead to sleepless nights.  It’ll rob you of your sanity.  It’ll make you try and try and try only to fail and fail.  But, when you finally hit it, when it all comes together, when you realize that your solution is good and new and original…oh what a great feeling it is not to take the easy route. 

The Last 5%

Everybody notices the last 5% of everything. Don't believe me? Try mowing the lawn, but don't get out the string trimmer. Think it matters how straight you kept the mower, or that you had it set to the perfect cutting height if there are wisps of tall defiant blades mocking you around the trees.

Or, write the perfectly composed letter; one that strikes just the right tone, makes perfectly salient points, and offers great wisdom. But, misspell a few words, slip up on some punctuation and you're dead. All the reader will be able to see is someone who should have paid attention in Mrs. Johnson's 5th grade class. They'll miss your genius.

What about a movie. How disappointed are you when you run out of battery just before the end. I don't care how good it was up to that point, it would have been better to never start watching.

This goes for design - in a big way. It matters not how brilliant your design concept, your beautiful renderings, your sweet set of drawings if that last 5% is left undone. You have to finish. That means designing to the talent of the builder. Ensuring that what you've dreamed can be done. And, sweating all the small stuff. Our world is littered with great design that just missed. There are countless buildings where the rendering was as good as it ever got. You can see the idea...if you look hard. The idea is the easy part. Follow through, the execution, the part where it becomes real, now that's tough. It's all about the last 5%...

Why I do what I do...

Somebody told me these blogs are sounding pretty negative.  I guess I write when I’m fired up.  This blog is a good outlet for trying to crystallize my thoughts.  The fact that you read it is a little bit of an afterthought, but it has led to some pretty lively discussions.

Maybe it’s a good time to explain why I do what I do.

I grew up in a pretty small town in the Midwest and while the people there are awesome, designing buildings/architecture seemed pretty exotic.  Most of the buildings in this little town were utilitarian; built for a purpose with little regard for aesthetics.  I’ve come to appreciate that way of thinking.  I learned later that there was a whole group of designers who prized a no-frills functional approach to the design of even the most high profile buildings.  But, at the time, it seemed that the few buildings in town that seemed to have a little more, a little art to them were designed by people from the city.

I admired those people.  They seemed to live in another world; a world with art and culture and big ideas. I couldn’t wait to join them. And, when I graduated from high school, I ran as far from that little town as I could get.  I’ve moved from city to city over the years and still feel like I’m catching up.  I feel like a lot of people got a head start on me.

I’ll probably never stop feeling like that, and it’s probably what propels me to keep going.  It’s probably why I think we can always do things better, and why I’m always looking forward, trying to improve things. It might not be the healthiest way to live.  Maybe I should spend more time appreciating what our firm has accomplished, what I have accomplished.  Maybe I should be happy with the clients we have.  It sure would make life easier.  Examining your flaws is tough.  Trying to improve is hard.  It’s much easier if you feel like you have it all figured out.

Now, I am one of those city people, but I suppose I’ll never shake my roots.  I don’t want to, now. There is something that came out of being raised in that small town that made me who I am and it’s the reason I do what I do... -ds

Keep it simple

I work in a pretty complicated industry. The way buildings go together is complicated. Building codes are complicated. The political process for getting projects approved is complicated. Dealing with clients is complicated. There is no end to the difficulty involved in taking a vision and making it a reality.

I learned this again recently while working on a new student housing project. Our client is a major University and the folks we are meeting with are super smart...I mean really smart. Boy can smart people make things complicated. I guess it stems from having your worth determined by your brain and having to repeatedly prove it. Us, we can point to tangible examples of buildings we've built, designs we done, and drawings we've produced. No such luck for our clients across the table. Their worth hinges on the opinions they've levied. They are all trying to do the right thing. No doubt about it.

What I've come to understand is that simplicity is the way to perfection. I would go out on a ledge and say that almost nothing gets better when it is more complicated. I don't care if you're talking about the design of a building, communications with clients, your relationship with your family, or how you cook your dinner. All are better if they are simple, easy to understand, and leave little room for confusion. As the adage goes - stand with your back to the mirror. Spin around. Whatever catches your eye first, take it off. Now you are better dressed.

It goes for the emails you send, the agendas you create, the meetings you conduct, and the relationships you have. Don't get me wrong, it takes a certain amount to get your point across and skimping will make things just as difficult, but almost no one complains about the words left unsaid.

With that, I shall end before this gets complicated. -ds

The Sales Pitch

It never clicked with me during architecture school how much of my job would be a sales job.  I thought clients would come seeking advice from an educated thoughtful professional and we’d do loads of beautiful work together. Yeah, naïve…

It’s pretty funny.  I’d never think second guessing my accountant, dentist, dermatologist, or lawyer.  There could be serious consequences.  They are seasoned professionals with years of training who live their subject matter every day.  If somehow I think I know more than these guys, I’m using the wrong guys.  Yeah, I ask them tough questions and make sure I understand what they’re telling me.  I make sure they have all of my information.  And, if I think they missed something, I’ll ask them to double check it, but I always default to their opinion.  I know they’re smarter about this stuff than I am.

Ok, maybe it’s because a lot of what we do is subjective.  It’s in the “eye of the beholder” and all that…maybe, but if I commission a piece of artwork, I don’t choose the colors for the painter, or tell the sculptor how to bend the metal.  That would be tinkering with their vision and compromising the artistic process.

I’m not sure what it is, but everybody has an opinion when you start designing a building.  From the layout of the rooms, to the construction materials, to the color of the paint and the fabric on the furniture, there are piles of opinions. Part of this discussion is understandable.  The client is paying for it, and ultimately, they have to live with it, so they should be part of the process.  I’m not saying we should sequester ourselves, Howard Roark style, and the client should be happy with what they get.  It would be nice, however, if there was a little trust – just a little bit more of a leap of faith.

I thought maybe it was just me.  Maybe my ideas just stink.  Maybe I don’t have enough gray hair.  Maybe every other designer had clients that joyously accepted all of their ideas and they were thrilled.  Not so.  I’ve spoken with plenty of designers who have similar issues.  All we want is a little respect.  We live this stuff.  We think about it night and day.  We can make our client’s lives easier if they simply have a little faith….Help me help you!

I’m spending as much time strategizing how to sell the idea as I am thinking of it in the first place.  How do we show it?  How do we talk about it?  Can we show where this has been done before, so it’s not so scary?  It is exhausting.  Sometimes I want to scream “Just get out of the way and you will have an awesome building!!”  But, alas, this is not the way our profession works.  Until I’m my own client, I’ll have to continue to refine the sales pitch…. ds

Shoot for the Middle

What do the Parthenon, Frank Lloyd Wright’s Falling Water, the Guggenheim Bilbao, the Great Pyramids, and the Pantheon have in common?  Yeah...they're all awesome and pretty much universally adored.  As designers, we’re all striving for that perfect design; the one that will be loved by the masses and respected by the architectural community.  It’s a lofty goal, and one many designers spend a lifetime chasing, only to fall short by circumstance or talent.  But, that’s part of what makes this profession so compelling.  It is a game without an end.  The joy is in the playing, not in the outcome.  I’m sure the designers of the buildings above saw the finished product and thought they could have been better.  You know Enoch stood back from those pyramids at a site visit and said “What’s up slaves? That’s not how I drew it. Man!” 

I’ve got a pretty simple way of thinking about this goal.  It amounts to thinking about the world population as a big pyramid of architectural knowledge.  At the bottom of pyramid, the fattest layer, are the uneducated masses. They don’t know or care much about design, and it really doesn’t take much to please them.  In contrast, at the top of the pyramid are the architectural elite, the scholars, the geniuses of design. The middle is striated with varying levels of architectural care and concern, from folks with a passing knowledge of design to people with a formal architectural education.  

The goal, as I see it, is to design a project that cuts straight through this pyramid from tip to base. A perfect project has something for everyone.  It appeals to the masses on a base subconscious level and to the elite at deeper metaphysical or technical level.  Most of us are designing projects to the left or right of center, hitting the base, but missing the tip.   Sometimes we’re a little closer to the middle sometimes a little further to the edges. There are lots of reasons for this.  It could be design talent.  It could be client.  It could be budget, or craftsmanship.  The stars must align perfectly to get close to the middle.

There are also times when projects will slice through the pyramid horizontally; satisfying only a narrow band of the population.  I see this happen at the top quite often.  Usually it happens with an avant-garde design that the elite can’t stop talking about, but very few others actually understand.  The top group chalks it up to a dense proletariat.  I say, those projects fail, too.  Yes we need them to move the discourse of architecture forward, but they’re never going to be loved by the masses. They’ll be in all of the architecture books and magazines, but most will shrug their shoulders.

I’ll keep playing the game; shooting for the middle.  Who knows, maybe someday everything will line up perfectly.  --ds