Life of an Architect

Architects ask the questions they actually want answered as Bob and Andrew dig into careers, practice, and the occasional absurdity.

The Truth about Titles explores why architectural titles matter, why they don’t, and how their meaning shifts over the course of a career.

Discover the ultimate Holiday Gift Guide for Architects – curated picks, tools, and books that every designer will actually want to unwrap this season.

At some point in every career, the path ahead stops looking like the one behind it. The work that once defined you begins to shift, not because it lost value but because you start to see yourself differently within it. For architects, that realization can be complicated because we build our identities around what we design, who we work with, and the roles we play in the process. Change has a way of testing all of that, forcing us to ask what parts of our career still fit and which ones need to evolve. Today, Andrew and I are talking about what happens when you change course, the challenges and rewards of starting fresh in familiar territory, and how to recognize when it is time to head in a new direction. Welcome to Episode 188: Changing Paths.  [Note: If you are reading this via email, click here to access the on-site audio player]  Change is something both Andrew and I have lived through, and in this episode we wanted to take a closer look at what that really means. Each of us has reached a point where our careers needed to evolve, and the decisions that came next reshaped how we think about design, leadership, and purpose. This conversation isn’t about following a formula or finding the perfect next step; it’s about the reality of letting go of what feels safe and learning from what comes after. We talk about the adjustments, the uncertainty, and the satisfaction that can come from realizing you are still capable of growing no matter how long you have been doing this. Our hope is that anyone listening who might be facing a similar decision can find something here that helps them recognize that change, when you allow it, can be the most constructive part of your career. When the Path Starts to Bend (Recognition) jump to 3:21 Bob's Perspective: There comes a point in most careers where the work you are doing and the person you are becoming start to drift just far enough apart that you can feel the gap forming. For me, it wasn’t about dissatisfaction or failure, but about balance. I began to recognize that not every professional decision I made was about me anymore. I had a family to provide for, and whether I liked it or not, that reality had to shape how I evaluated opportunity. The irony, of course, is that architecture doesn’t exactly offer financial guarantees no matter where you go, but I started to realize that what I was looking for had begun to shift. I wasn’t just thinking about projects anymore; I was thinking about impact. Much of that realization came through the writing I was doing for the blog. Storytelling forced me to look at the profession differently and to think about how architects explain what they do and why it matters. Over time, I began to see that my influence didn’t have to come solely from drawing lines. I still think of myself as an above-average designer, but I started to value other skills that had developed along the way: communication, teaching, and helping people think differently about architecture. Those areas began to feel like ways to make a broader difference, and that awareness started to change what I wanted from my career. When the opportunity came to move from a small, residentially focused practice to a larger commercial firm, the attraction wasn’t about leaving one thing behind for another; it was about growth. I wanted to see what would happen if I stepped into an environment that operated at a completely different scale. More people meant more challenges, more opportunities for leadership, and more potential to help shape culture. Change has never scared me. I have always seen it as a chance to redefine myself and fix a few flaws that I know I have. Every new chapter is an opportunity to rethink how I communicate, to see how others experience me, and to test whether I am living up to the expectations I set for myself. The conversation that started the transition wasn’t strategic, and it wasn’t planned. I asked Andrew Bennett, one of the owners at BOKA Powell, a simple question: “Do you think my skill set would translate to a larger office?” That was it. No job hunt, no sales pitch, just curiosity. But in hindsight, that question planted a seed for both of us. Over time, my goals evolved dramatically. I used to want to be known as an exceptional designer, then I wanted to be a better communicator, then a collaborator, and now I think of myself as a thought leader, though it is hard to be a shepherd without any sheep. Writing made me aware of that evolution. It reminded me that what I wanted most was to make things better for others. Andrew Hawkins likes to joke that I have a savior complex, but he’s not wrong. Most of my career decisions over the last twenty years have been attempts to align my work with that impulse, to do work that helps people rather than just impressing them. Andrew's Perspective: The realization that I might want to change directions came slowly, long before I admitted it to myself or even identified its occurrence. For years, I had been running my own firm, managing every detail, balancing design, business, and people. Even at the peak of twelve or fourteen people, it always felt like I was carrying the entire weight. Of course, this was because I was doing most of the heavy lifting tasks. I realize now that a major turning point may have started when I hired someone of a similar level and experience in the profession, hoping they would eventually take on some of the responsibility that had become overwhelming. But they passed away suddenly, and it caught me off guard, leaving an impact I didn’t recognize at first. In hindsight, it was probably a moment that quietly shifted how I viewed my role, my firm, and the limits of what I could sustain. At that time, the daily effort began to feel repetitive and draining. I felt as though I was pushing the same rock uphill only to have it roll back down, and at times, crush me with its weight. The creative energy that once defined the practice had become secondary to the grind of management and business operations. However, due to the fact that my office was mainly comprised of young employees and student interns, I was consistently providing guidance to them. This is common for almost anyone who reaches a certain level of experience in our profession, so it wasn’t extraordinary. But I realized that I enjoyed that process as a significant part of my role. So this renewed a semi-forgotten notion; I had always wanted to teach. When I was in college and graduate school, my original plan was to go straight into teaching, never really considering practice as part of the picture. So when the chance came to teach part-time, it felt invigorating and exciting in a way that practice and the firm work no longer did. Even then, while teaching part-time, I didn’t imagine making the move to teaching full-time. It was simply a side commitment that helped me reconnect with something meaningful. But over time, both internal and external factors continued to nudge me further in that direction. What made the idea difficult was the feeling that leaving practice would mean abandoning what I had built: a firm, a name, and twenty years of work. It felt like betraying a version of myself. I had devoted and sacrificed so much of myself and my life into establishing something independent that the thought of walking away from it, even for something with potential, felt like a loss. It felt like giving up, like abandoning a child. It was not easy, and I am still not sure I am over it after several years. I am still working on letting go and not seeing it as failure. I am simply moving into another phase of my career and life and learning how that works. Trading Places (Transition) jump to 14:06 Bob's Perspective: The biggest adjustment I had to make when I joined a larger firm was learning how defined the roles were. In my previous offices, I did everything from concept design to field coordination, and while that breadth came with its challenges, it also gave me control and continuity. If I wasn’t there, things waited on me, which at the time felt like both a burden and a compliment. At BOKA Powell, the structure was completely different. Project Designers, Project Architects, and Project Managers all had distinct responsibilities, and understanding who handled what took time. The process wasn’t less collaborative, but it was more specialized. That specialization made the machine efficient, but it also meant I had to learn to trust people to do the work I had always done myself. It was harder than I expected. The pace was another shock. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised by the difference between an office of eight and one with a hundred, but it still caught me off guard. I had to figure out which decisions required collaboration and which I could make on my own. Even as a principal, there was an invisible line between what was mine to solve and what needed higher approval. That took patience to learn. The larger the organization, the more the success of one person depends on everyone else being aligned, and that coordination takes time. Once I began to understand the rhythm of how information moved through the office, I started to see how scale itself can become a design constraint - not just a logistical one, but a creative one too. Adapting to that new rhythm meant rethinking how I approached design. The team dynamic was different, the process was different, and even the codes were different. At times I felt like I had the practical value of someone five years out of school. I had plenty of experience as a leader and communicator, but the act of being an architect was distinct at this scale. The confidence I once had in high-end residential work didn’t automatically transfer to commercial projects. It took more time, more collaboration, and more humility. The details I used to solve instinctively now required layers of coordination across disciplines.

Architects explore the stories behind objects of design that remind us why design matters — revealing creativity, purpose, and meaning in everyday things.

Every rule was made to be broken, except in architecture, where even the act of breaking rules seems to come with its own set of rules. Modernism promised liberation from the past, but it quickly wrote its own commandments into the story—flat roofs, open plans, white walls, and exposed structure became the expected vocabulary. A movement that arrived as rebellion soon carried the weight of convention, and those conventions still shape how we design and judge buildings today. This week, Andrew and I are taking a closer look at the commandments of Modernism—where they came from, why they matter, and what they mean for the way we practice now. Welcome to Episode 186: The Rules of Modernism.  [Note: If you are reading this via email, click here to access the on-site audio player]  If you are interested in seeing just a few of the houses I mentioned on the podcast, you can see them listed on the Realtor.com (here and here are just a few of them) The Roots of Modernism jump to 6:30 Modern architecture did not emerge in a vacuum. It was a response to seismic shifts in society, technology, and culture that took place in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Industrialization had transformed the way people lived, cities were expanding at unprecedented rates, and new materials like steel, reinforced concrete, and large sheets of plate glass were suddenly available to architects. These inventions were not simply practical tools, they were symbols of a new age. Architects began to ask why they should keep designing buildings that looked like medieval castles or classical temples when the world around them had become faster, lighter, and more efficient. The very idea of progress seemed incompatible with copying the past, and so Modernism positioned itself as the architecture of a new century - an architecture that would represent industry, rationality, and optimism for the future. This rejection of the past was more than an aesthetic preference, it was a manifesto. Ornament was not just unnecessary, it was cast as dishonest and wasteful. Historical references were treated as evidence of cultural stagnation. In their place, Modernists put forward ideas of functional clarity, open planning, and structural honesty. The promise was bold: architecture would no longer serve as a backdrop for tradition, it would become a tool for shaping a better society. Housing would be healthier, cities would be more efficient, and design would finally align with the realities of modern life. It was not only about how buildings looked, but about how they could transform the way people lived … and that is why the roots of Modernism matter to this conversation. The movement began as a radical break from the architectural traditions that came before it, yet it also established a new set of values that quickly hardened into conventions of their own. Before we can explore the “rules” of Modern design, we need to understand the cultural and historical conditions that gave rise to them. Only then can we appreciate the irony that a movement born from revolution became one of the most codified design languages of the twentieth century. By the time Modernism had established itself internationally, the movement that began as rebellion had already created its own set of unwritten rules. Architects may not have published them in a single manifesto, but they were understood all the same. You could look at a building and know whether it was ‘Modern’ or not, based on a handful of essential qualities. These rules were never carved into stone, yet they became the code that defined the movement for decades. To understand Modern design, and to really grasp how it operates, we need to lay out those unspoken commandments - the ideas that quietly dictate what belongs inside the Modernist tradition and what falls outside of it. The Ten Commandments of Modernism jump to 13:42 Modernism never published a rulebook, but anyone who studied it - or even just walked through a few of its buildings - could tell that certain expectations were always in play. These weren’t written down in manifestos or carved into stone tablets, yet every architect seemed to know them. They became the quiet commandments of Modern design, the guidelines that told you when a building belonged to the movement and when it strayed too far. What I want to do is call them out, one by one, and see how they’ve shaped our understanding of Modern architecture. Thou Shalt Embrace Function When people talk about Modern architecture, the first thing they always bring up is ‘form follows function.’ That phrase is almost a commandment in itself. The idea is that buildings should be driven by purpose, by use, not by ornament or whim. On paper it sounds simple, but in practice it gets tricky. What happens when function alone doesn’t make a building beautiful, or when the function is flexible? The irony is that many of the architects who pushed this commandment the hardest were also the ones who added their own stylistic flourishes. Corbusier gave us pilotis and roof gardens, and Mies obsessed over proportions in ways that went far beyond pure utility. So yes, function is at the heart of it, but we also know that the story is more complicated. This is where Modernism becomes less about a single rule and more about a shared belief system. Thou Shalt Honor Simplicity Simplicity is the soul of Modern architecture. Clean lines, restrained geometry, uncluttered spaces. But don’t mistake simplicity for easy. The cleaner a design is, the more difficult it becomes to execute. When there’s nowhere to hide, every joint, every alignment, every proportion has to be perfect. That is why Modernism often feels more expensive, not less. A perfectly simple box can take as much effort as a Gothic cathedral, just in a different way. The lesson is that simplicity is not about doing less, it is about doing things with greater discipline. Thou Shalt Reject Ornament This is the commandment everyone remembers. Modernism declared war on ornament. For centuries, buildings had been covered in carved details, cornices, moldings, scrollwork, all of it. Modern architects came along and said, ‘Nope, none of that. Strip it away.’ A wall should be a wall, not a canvas for decoration. But here’s the thing, removing ornament didn’t mean removing expression. It just shifted expression to proportion, detail, and material. And I’ll argue that sometimes those ‘simpler’ details are actually harder to pull off. A Modernist railing detail can cost more than an entire set of classical moldings, because the tolerances are tighter and the craftsmanship has to be flawless. So, rejecting ornament didn’t make architecture cheaper or easier, it just made it more precise. Thou Shalt Express Structure Honestly Modernism elevates structure into aesthetics. Columns, beams, slabs—these are not things to be hidden, they are things to be celebrated. You are supposed to be able to read how a building stands up just by looking at it. Mies made this an art form, and Corbusier turned structure into a sculptural gesture. But let’s be honest, structural honesty is often more of an idea than a reality. Plenty of Modern buildings cheat a little, exaggerating one element or concealing another to tell a clearer story. So this commandment is less about literal honesty and more about the appearance of honesty. It is about making the building feel like it is telling the truth, even if you are editing the story behind the scenes. Thou Shalt Be True to Materials Concrete should look like concrete. Steel should look like steel. Glass should be transparent, not painted to imitate something else. This commandment is about authenticity, a refusal to disguise or imitate. That honesty elevates materials into beauty. Brutalism is the most extreme example, celebrating raw concrete in all its roughness. But the challenge is that technology complicates this purity. Today we have coatings, composites, high-performance materials that don’t always look like what they are. So being ‘true to materials’ becomes less about absolute purity and more about staying within the spirit of authenticity, even in a world where materials are rarely simple. Thou Shalt Embrace Light and Openness Light is sacred to Modern design. Think ribbon windows, glass curtain walls, open floor plans. These are not just aesthetic moves, they are about a new way of living. Healthier, brighter, more transparent. This is where Modernism broke radically from the past—away from dark, compartmentalized interiors, toward spaces that felt connected to the world outside. And this commandment is still alive today. Every client, whether they know it or not, is chasing light and openness when they say they want a ‘modern’ home or office. It has become so fundamental that we forget it was once revolutionary. Thou Shalt Respect the Grid The grid is the invisible backbone of Modernism. It provides order, clarity, and discipline. Whether it is structural bays, window spacing, or floor tile layout, the grid is sacred. It’s one of those rules where most people never notice it, but architects do, and we get irritated when someone breaks it. A mullion that’s out of alignment or a window that doesn’t land on the grid can ruin the entire composition for an architect. Respecting the grid is about more than geometry, it’s about communicating that the building is orderly, rational, and disciplined. It tells you that someone cared about how the parts fit together. Thou Shalt Flatten the Roof The flat roof might be the most recognizable symbol of Modernism. You can look at a building from a hundred yards away, see that crisp horizontal line, and know what you’re dealing with. But here’s the dirty little secret, flat roofs leak. They always have. Contractors hate them, homeowners eventually learn to hate them, and yet architects keep drawing them. Why?

It’s one thing to be busy and another to be productive – and most of us are far better at the first than the second. The reality is that architects live in a world of deadlines, meetings, and endless to-do lists, but somehow there’s always time to check Instagram, rearrange your desktop icons, or spend twenty minutes deciding which playlist will help you focus before actually doing the work. Procrastination has a way of disguising itself as “just five more minutes” until suddenly tomorrow is looking a lot worse than today. This week, Andrew and I are taking a closer look at procrastination – why it happens, how it disrupts even the best-laid plans, and what you can actually do to keep it from derailing your work. Welcome to Episode 185: Procrastination: Today’s Problems Tomorrow.  [Note: If you are reading this via email, click here to access the on-site audio player]  The Struggle is Real jump to 4:09 Procrastination is not about a lack of discipline or effort, it is more like a default response that shows up once the to-do list starts outpacing the hours in the day. Think of it as that urge to tidy up your inbox, check social media one more time, or find anything else to do besides the one task that really matters. It is less about bad intent and more about a short-term survival instinct. I would not describe myself as someone who avoids work, but I can admit there are times when I put things off until there is no other choice, and I suspect that puts me in the same company as most people reading this. There is research that connects personality traits with procrastination, and some of it feels uncomfortably familiar when applied to architects. People who score high in conscientiousness usually do well in professional settings, but that same trait often brings with it a strong tendency toward perfectionism. When you are wired to want things done at a very high level, it can be easy to delay getting started until you believe conditions are “just right.” The irony is that the higher the standard, the harder it becomes to begin, and procrastination finds a perfect opening. Other personality studies using Myers-Briggs categories found that INTP (Introversion, Intuition, Thinking, Perception) types were among the highest procrastinators. Those individuals tend to be analytical, independent, and comfortable living in their heads, which can be useful qualities for architects, but those same strengths can also create a pattern of putting things off. When you are wired to keep analyzing and refining your ideas, starting the work can feel less urgent than thinking about it just a little longer. There is another angle to consider, which is that procrastination can actually act as a coping mechanism. Psychologists describe it as a form of avoidance, but not always in a destructive sense. Putting something off can create short-term relief, and that breathing space can sometimes be what allows a person to function in the moment. The problem is that the stress does not go away, it simply accumulates and grows heavier with time. For some people, that mounting pressure even becomes the fuel they rely on to finally act, which is why procrastination is not only common but oddly effective for those who claim they “work best under pressure.” Architects are Busy jump to 16:03 a look at my weekly calendar for the time we recorded today's podcast episode Procrastination is not always about laziness, and more often than not it shows up as the result of overload. Nobody in this profession plans to avoid their responsibilities, but when the day fills up with meetings, deadlines, and emails, something is going to slip. That delay might look small in the moment, like moving one task to tomorrow’s list, but it still qualifies as procrastination. It is not intentional avoidance, it is triage, and triage always comes with consequences. Architects are especially vulnerable to this because so much of our time is spent in coordination mode, and what little space is left on an already congested calendar is rarely left alone. Any open gaps are quickly filled by others, often with another conversation about the work rather than time to actually do the work, and the result is that the very moments that could have helped move things forward disappear before they can make a difference. The real trap is that this kind of procrastination often feels productive. Answering emails, cleaning up a spreadsheet or proposal, or working on staffing assignments might feel like progress, but in reality these tasks are just distractions from the harder thing that needs attention. Hours can pass in this cycle and the needle never moves, yet it feels like work has been accomplished. The cost of those small delays is rarely contained to a single person’s to-do list, because architecture is collaborative and every missed step sends ripples through the team. An internal delay means consultants receive drawings later, coordination gets compressed, and suddenly the client’s submission deadline has become a sprint. What seemed like a minor shuffle on Monday can balloon into a project-wide scramble by Friday, and the result is that procrastination rarely stays personal, in this profession it multiplies. Add in a podcast and helping friends out with their home renovations and you can quickly feel like you are capable of doing 100 things, but are currently under-performing on 95 of them. Tips to Avoid Procrastination jump to 29:27 this is the markerboard behind my desk, where I have written down that days "to do" list ... plus a chart on the age-to-risk of waterbeds which is an example of procrastination Break Big Tasks into Smaller Ones jump to 30:00 Procrastination thrives when the mountain looks too high to climb, so the trick is to stop staring at the peak. Take the 200-page spec you’ve been ignoring and just outline the headers. Draw one wall section instead of the entire building envelope. The smaller the step, the harder it is to rationalize avoiding it — and once you’re in motion, momentum does the rest. Architects know better than anyone that a building is just a lot of little details stitched together, so treat your tasks the same way. Set Deadlines Before the Deadline jump to 32:44 If the submission is due Friday, convince yourself it’s really due Wednesday. This isn’t lying to yourself, it’s self-preservation. Architecture deadlines rarely move in your favor, and waiting until the eleventh hour is a guaranteed way to spend your Thursday night ordering bad pizza and hating your life. By setting mini-deadlines earlier in the process, you create a buffer for the inevitable “oh, we forgot about that” moment. Eliminate the Easy Distractions jump to 35:28 Most of us don’t procrastinate by taking a nap - we procrastinate by doing things that feel like work. Checking emails, reorganizing CAD layers, or hunting down the “perfect” precedent photo is just a form of procrastination. To combat it, shut down the browser tabs, turn off email notifications, and admit that scrolling LinkedIn isn’t research. Architects are good at justifying busywork, but being busy and being productive are not the same thing. We covered a lot of ground in Ep 178: Under Pressure, where Andrew and I unpacked how stress impacts both our process and our priorities. One of the things that came up again and again was how distractions multiply when deadlines get tight. Every email suddenly feels urgent, every notification pulls you off course, and before long you’ve lost an hour to things that don’t matter. Managing those distractions is less about discipline and more about survival when the pressure is on. Use Time Blocks Instead of “Free Time” Free time isn’t free - it’s where procrastination sets up camp. Instead of telling yourself, “I’ll work on this after lunch,” carve out a specific window: “1:30 to 3:00 is wall section time.” Time blocking creates structure, and structure is what architects live on. Treat your own calendar like a construction schedule: nobody pours concrete with “sometime Thursday” as the milestone. Start Ugly, Fix Later jump to 39:09 Perfectionism is procrastination in a tuxedo. The sooner you admit your first draft will be a little ugly, the sooner you’ll get it out of your head and onto paper. Architects are notorious for obsessing over line weights before the design even makes sense. Resist that urge. Start with the messy version, then clean it up later - that’s why trace paper and revisions exist. If you’ve been around here long enough, you might remember my post on 10 Mistakes Architecture Students Should Avoid, where I admitted that architects are practically trained to procrastinate. That early conditioning often comes from the pursuit of perfection - the idea that you shouldn’t show your work until it’s flawless. But the truth is, progress comes from putting something down and then improving it. Waiting for the “perfect” first draft is just procrastination in a bow tie. (for those of you that are interested in seeing the stone drawing I mentioned where I procrastinated by adding the individual stone pieces on an outdoor shower, you can find it here) Prioritize the Hard Thing First jump to 42:08 We’ve all got one task that looms larger than the rest. Get it out of the way before the day gets away from you. Knock out that painful code review in the morning instead of circling it all day like a nervous cat. The reward is twofold: you get a boost from having done the hardest thing, and suddenly everything else on your list feels easier by comparison. Architects are professional plate-spinners, so it’s critical to keep the heaviest one from crashing first. Set Public Commitments jump to 43:09 Accountability works wonders when procrastination is whispering in your ear. If you promise your project manager you’ll have the drawings on their desk tomorrow morning, you’ve just raised the stakes.

The Architect as Brand explores how personal reputation and firm identity collide, coexist, and shape modern architectural practice.

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How leadership behavior shapes culture, trust, and growth - why people mirror what leaders model, and how influence is built through everyday actions.

The phrase “it’s just a small project” has probably caused more confusion, blown more budgets, and strained more relationships than we’d care to admit. It sounds harmless, maybe even charming - the architectural equivalent of a quick favor. But that phrase carries weight. Because behind every modest addition, bathroom remodel, or garage conversion is the same professional rigor we apply to larger work … just without the benefit of scale. Whether it’s fees that don’t shrink as expected, construction costs that defy logic, or clients caught off guard by the number of decisions they’ll need to make, these projects demand clarity, patience, and experience. So today, we’re talking about what architects need to communicate, anticipate, and prepare for when the work is small but the expectations are not. Welcome to Episode 180: Size Doesn't Matter.  [Note: If you are reading this via email, click here to access the on-site audio player]  Architectural Fees Don't Scale jump to 3:50 One of the most misunderstood aspects of residential design is how architectural fees are determined. Many clients assume that a smaller project should result in a proportionally smaller fee. But architectural fees don’t scale like that. A 400-square-foot addition still requires site measurements, code research, zoning analysis, (possibly) consultant coordination, and detailed documentation. Whether the project is 400 or 4,000 square feet, many of the baseline efforts remain the same. You still need floor plans, reflected ceiling plans, building sections, wall sections, electrical layouts, and coordination with structural engineers or energy consultants. And while the documentation may be shorter, the care and precision required to make a small project work can sometimes take even more time. For example, a kitchen renovation might involve more detail and coordination per square foot than an entire house. The AIA has published guidance on fee structures in the "Architect's Handbook of Professional Practice," (this is a book that I highly recommend) which notes that project complexity and risk should be used to help determine compensation, not just size. As architects, we must be clear in helping clients understand that fees represent time and expertise, not floor area. If you charge a fixed fee or percentage of construction cost, be sure to explain what that covers and what it doesn’t. Helping clients see the value in pre-design services, permitting assistance, and construction observation can prevent misunderstandings later. Saving the best for last, just because it’s a small project doesn’t mean the liability is small. Professional risk remains, which means the time spent to get it right matters, regardless of scale. the post that I referenced in our discussions was this one ...*the penalty of drawing too much -  Excessive or Essential? The Entire Timeline jump to 9:43 Clients often think the timeline for a small project will be quick. And to be fair, the design phase might be shorter than that of a ground-up custom home. But that’s only one piece of the puzzle. Permitting can take anywhere from a few weeks to several months, depending on the jurisdiction. In some cities, small additions are routed through full plan review just like new homes. And once the project is permitted, the construction timeline is subject to the availability of contractors and materials, site conditions, and even weather. It’s our responsibility to help clients understand the full arc of the process. According to a 2023 survey from Houzz, the average design-to-completion timeline for a kitchen remodel is around 8-12 months, even when the construction itself only takes 2-3. Why the gap? Because there are lags built into the process. Design review boards, HOA approvals, contractor bidding windows, and permit review times all add up. When you add in backorders on appliances or materials, things can shift quickly. That’s why it’s so important to map out the process at the beginning and set realistic milestones. Being transparent about what’s in your control and what isn’t will help keep trust intact when things inevitably shift. Having a clear design schedule, a list of deliverables, and contingency plans for delays is part of being a professional. And the smaller the project, the more noticeable even short delays can be. Finding the Right Contractor is Hard jump to 14:36 For small residential projects, contractor selection isn’t just about qualifications — it’s about willingness. Many reputable general contractors are booked with larger, more profitable jobs and simply won’t entertain small additions or renovations. Others might agree to the work but assign it to their most junior staff, resulting in delays, poor communication, or inconsistent execution. As an architect, you often find yourself acting as a matchmaker, helping the client find someone who is both capable and available. But it’s not always easy. In many cases, the best choice is a smaller GC who specializes in remodels or residential work. These contractors understand the quirks of working in occupied homes, phasing construction, and dealing with tight site conditions.   But availability is limited, and their schedules can be unpredictable. Some clients consider acting as their own GC, which can work in rare cases, but often results in schedule overruns and missed coordination. According to the National Association of Home Builders, over 70% of remodeling jobs in 2022 were handled by contractors who also reported being overbooked for more than 3 months at a time. That means the contractor search should begin early in the process, not after the drawings are complete. Make sure you and your client have the same definition of "qualified." You’re not just looking for someone who can build; you’re looking for someone who can communicate, coordinate, and collaborate. It’s also a good idea to review prior projects and talk to past clients. Help your client understand that the relationship with the contractor is as important as the specs on the plans — maybe even more so. After all, they’ll be living with the results. Constructions Costs Are Not Linear jump to 20:37 It’s one of the first hurdles in almost every small residential project: explaining why a seemingly simple renovation costs so much. Homeowners often have a mental equation that says "less space = less money." but in reality, costs per square foot often go up as projects get smaller. That’s because certain trades are still required regardless of scale, and the overhead doesn’t vanish just because there are fewer square feet to the project. Let's take a look at kitchens and bathrooms as an example. These are among the most expensive spaces to build because they require plumbing, electrical, ventilation, millwork, tile, and appliances or fixtures. According to the Journal of Light Construction's 2024 Cost vs. Value Report, a midrange kitchen remodel in the U.S. averages over $79,000. That’s not a custom kitchen, and that’s not a big kitchen. The cost per square foot for an upscale bath room (that is not the main bathroom) can easily exceed that of a new living room or bedroom addition, averaging just below $80,000. Clients need to know this before they get too far into the wish list phase. We also have to educate clients on hidden costs: mobilization, demolition, temporary protection, permit fees, utility upgrades, and finish upgrades. When a contractor is asked to come in for a small job, their fixed costs don’t change much — and that means those costs get distributed over fewer square feet. As the architect, it’s important to tie cost discussions back to decisions: complexity, quality of finishes, number of trades involved, and construction logistics all impact the final budget. Help your client align their expectations with reality, and be prepared to guide them through prioritization if scope and budget don’t match. Cost estimating tools, even rough ones, can be valuable here. A good faith effort at outlining potential costs early in the process often leads to smoother approvals and fewer surprises later. Squeezed Out by Larger Projects jump to 25:45 One of the hardest things to explain without sounding dismissive is that small projects don’t always get the same attention as large ones - from either the architect or the contractor. It’s not because we don’t care. It’s because all offices, regardless of size, operate on a limited pool of time and resources. When you have a 5,000-square-foot custom home under construction and a 500-square-foot porch addition in design, you’re naturally going to have to triage your attention. Same goes for most general contractors - although I highly doubt that the same contractor that would build a 5k new home would even look at a porch addition. This isn’t a justification for dropping the ball - far from it. It’s a prompt to plan ahead. You need to be honest with your client about what your involvement will look like week-to-week. Can you review shop drawings within 48 hours? Are you attending site meetings? Is someone else in your office taking the lead? These aren’t just internal staffing decisions; they’re part of the client experience. Likewise, make sure the builder isn’t stretched too thin. If they’re juggling five job sites and only showing up for an hour a day, progress will crawl. It helps to set expectations with a communications plan. Weekly email updates, pre-scheduled check-ins, and clearly defined response timelines can reduce client anxiety and keep everyone aligned. If the project requires a sprint of focus to meet a milestone, carve out the time and communicate that commitment. When you’re transparent about how resources are allocated, clients are usually more understanding and you can avoid the frustration of unspoken assumptions and unmet expectations. Doing More with Less of Everything jump to 33:03

Architectural influencers on social media can bring real insight to the table while others blur the line between experience and performance, you should evaluate what you’re seeing, questioning why it was shared, and learn how to tell the difference between helpful guidance and a well-lit shortcut.

What happens when architects face extreme pressure? Ep. 178 explores how stress reveals character, process, and priorities in practice.

There’s a moment in almost every architect’s career where the idea first surfaces—quietly at first, then louder over time: What if I started my own firm? Maybe it’s the itch for creative freedom, maybe it’s frustration with someone else’s decisions, or maybe it’s just the instinct to build something of your own. I’ve had this conversation more times than I can count—at desks, on job sites, over drinks after a long day. It’s a topic that stirs up excitement, fear, pride, and possibility all at once. Today, we’re stepping into that mindset—the leap, the hustle, the vision behind doing your own thing. Welcome to Episode 177: Hanging Out Your Shingle [Note: If you are reading this via email, click here to access the on-site audio player]  We have a special guest to assist us with discussing today’s topic. Joining us is Daniel Istrate, AIA — a licensed architect and co-founder of Kontexture, a Phoenix-based architecture firm with a growing international presence. Originally from Romania, Daniel moved to the United States as a teenager and went on to earn his architecture degree from the University of Arizona, with studies that also included Italian, Literature, and a minor in studio arts. He began his career at a small local firm, later navigating the challenges of the 2008 recession while gaining experience at a large national practice. But like many of us, he felt the pull toward something more personal, and in 2013, he made the leap, leaving a stable job to start his firm with longtime friend and collaborator Jorge Toscano. Since then, Kontexture has grown to include two offices - one in Phoenix and another in Hermosillo, Mexico - and in 2018, they expanded into construction by launching a design-build company. Daniel is joining us today to discuss betting on yourself, building with intention, and creating a firm from the ground up - all themes at the heart of today’s topic. Let’s start at the moment just before you decided to launch your own firm - what pushed that decision from a long-time idea into something real?  The first time I played with the idea of opening a firm with another colleague from the first firm I was working at was in 2007 right before the recession.  We quickly realized that was not good timing so we decided against it.  Looking back that was a really good thing, I was only two years out of school and still very green.  After weathering the recession at Smithgroup and getting licensed while there, I started taking on some side work.  I got an offer from another firm to move there as the principal was thinking of retiring soon and was looking to have someone take over.  After being there for a year, on a Friday night at 1:00 am while still at the office I decided that this is the time.  I already had a steady stream of clients and projects that I was doing on the side (moonlighting)  Binkowitz Residence - Kontexture You didn’t start Kontexture alone - can you talk a bit about that partnership and how you and Jorge divided up the early responsibilities?  I started Kontexture with Jorge whom I met while we were both in first year at the U of A.  We always talked about starting a firm together, even while in college.  Early on we were each responsible for our own projects, from early meetings with clients, to design, construction documents, Construction Administration, etc.  But we have identified early what each of our strengths were and we worked off of that.  Jorge is a stronger designer and I am more technical.   Marigold Dispensary - Kontexture When you first opened your doors - how did you find work? Did you chase the kind of projects you wanted, or take what came?  We started the firm with about 20 small projects that we were both working on, on the side.  Once we started the phone kept ringing and we kept getting work based on recommendations from engineers we were collaborating with, contractors and most important, the clients we had were recommending us.  We did not have to chase any projects, but we were not being selective either, we took everything that came our way.   Tica Residence - Kontexture What were some of the most unexpected early challenges - not design or technical ones, but the business side: contracts, accounting, finding your first hire?  Funny you mention that.  Contracts were the biggest challenge.  Neither Jorge or I had any experience at the previous firms putting proposals together, we were not in the positions where we had access to that information.  It was that difficult for residential work, but for commercial, we were using google to find out how to charge for projects, so between price per square foot and percentage of construction costs, we were either really high and not get the project, or too low as the client couldn’t sign the contracts fast enough.  So that was challenging, even 12 years in we still sometimes run into that.  The first official hire was this guy Michael that I knew back in Tucson, and he was moving from New York to Phoenix to be with his girlfriend, so it was someone I knew personally.  All the other people we hire were people we know, or worked with, or were recommended which made it a bit easier.   Oerlikon India - Kontexture You’ve described your office as deliberately diverse and people-focused. How early on did that vision shape your hiring, and how do you sustain it in practice?  Every office I worked in after graduating I observed how my bosses were and how they operated.  I would make mental notes on things I thought they did well and if I were to ever have a firm to emulate that or when I saw things that I thought were wrong to never do that as a boss.  I had a college professor that told us the importance of working for a firm where you feel appreciated, and that it should weigh more than the salary and title.  I did not give it much thought at the time, but while working at the second firm after graduating, Anca (my wife) gave birth to our second son, and my boss told me I could not leave to pick-up Anca as she was being discharged from the hospital because we had some meeting to go to.  I had to ask my dad to go and pick up my wife.  I quit that job two weeks later even though we were in the middle of the recession.  I was fortunate enough to find another job in 2009 when most firms were laying people off or even closing their doors.  With that in mind, I told myself that I would never want to have people working for me that dreaded coming into the office, because I experienced that feeling myself.  We are a pretty diverse group with people from all backgrounds.   Budure Residence - Kontexture What were some pivotal decisions or moments that allowed your firm to grow—not just in size, but in identity? If this was a scientific experiment, in order for the theory to become law it would have to be duplicated by other people.  What I mean by this is, I am not sure this would work for other firms but it has for us.  As we started getting more projects or even bigger projects, we still got calls for smaller projects (small remodels, additions, or small TI’s), not the type of projects you would brag about at a cocktail party.  But I can’t tell you how many times taking on those projects ended up leading to a lot more substantial work.  One example was when I got a call from a civil engineer we did a lot of work with.  He asked if I was interested in doing a TI for a marijuana dispensary.  and I said sure.  So the engineer passed my number to the client who called and basically said that they already had the project designed, they just needed someone to draft it and I was willing to do it.  It was just as marijuana became legal in Arizona and there were a lot of regulations on it, which I did not know at the time.  The client educated me in all the regulations, we did the project, and then asked if I were interested in doing some grow facilities to which I said, sure.  That started a long string of projects in the cannabis industry that otherwise I would have never had the opportunity to do.  A lot of firms were competing for those projects early on and we were fortunate enough to be one of the first firms to do those types of projects.  So a long answer to say, don’t be afraid of the unknown or to say yes and most of all don’t ever think you are above a certain type of project because you now “made it”.  As a follow-up, do you have a final/ideal firm size in mind? Or what is your growth mindset or strategy for the firm? When did you develop this? Has it evolved over time?  When we first started we never set out to grow to 24 people.  We are not set up like a corporation where we sit down at the beginning of the year to set goals or targets for growth.  We have grown organically and what felt natural to us.  It might not be the right approach for everyone but it has worked for us.  Even though we have 24 people we run the practice like a small firm and as of now we have no plans of expanding any further, but with that being said, I don’t know what the future holds.  I just don’t see myself being a principal at a large firm of 100+ people.  just the thought gives me anxiety. Rogers Residence - Kontexture You’ve taken some less-traveled roads to build and sustain your practice—what’s something you did that might surprise people?  As mentioned earlier, we took on just about every type of project that came our way (even if we did not have experience doing those types of projects), we tried to hire just friends or friends of friends.  We took on hires that Kontexture was their first job in the US and that paid off, we took a chance on them and they became very good and loyal employees.  One such example is Carmen, who started as a drafter six years ago and she is now one of the principals.  Same with Denisa who started as a front desk secretary and now is the director of operations and principal.  Opening the second office in Mexico was something that was less conventional.

We’ve all stared at the calendar, convinced there’s a hidden twenty-fifth hour—plenty of room to redline that section, nudge the model, and squeeze in just one more detail. “We’ll sort it during bidding,” we promise ourselves, and the optimism buys another day of breathing room. Architects thrive on this kind of self-talk; some versions are harmless, others lurk like change-order booby traps. Today Andrew and I are spotlighting the greatest hits—the stories we repeat, the messes they create, and the habits that can stop the cycle before it snaps back on us. Grab your favorite red Sharpie ... Welcome to Episode EP 176: Little White Lies. [Note: If you are reading this via email, click here to access the on-site audio player]  I've Got Plenty of Time jump to 4:24 This may be the single most prevalent lie we tell ourselves the most during our career. We always are telling ourselves we have the time. Time to finish. Time to do just one more thing. Time to get enough sleep. Time to make it work. Time to meet that deadline and have all the details complete. I’m not saying all architects do this, but there is a large number. I think it’s our underlying optimism in our abilities and skills. Maybe that’s ego, but whatever the reason, it happens. A lot. We'll Deal with it During Construction jump to 8:13 Another beauty. This is one we tell ourselves as well quite often. We have a looming deadline and we need, no we MUST, publish a set of drawings and meet the deadline. We know we have left some things to deal with later. Sometimes, in the good cases, we make it back to those elements and finish our task in the manner we intended. Often, we deal with the element, but not always in the same manner and care we might have during the design phase. Then, there are those times when we just don’t ever make it back to that and the contractors solve those issues for us. Whether that is how we wanted to not is a different story. I'll Just do a Little Work Tonight jump to 11:38 Some architects are most assuredly better at this than others. The best of us never even tempt the fates and do work “at night.” Others can actually do just a task or two and then close up shop and move one. Then there is that group that sits down for a few small tasks and doesn’t realize until 4 hours later that they are still working. We knew we should have not sat down at the desk at all. But once it starts, sometimes it’s just too tough to stop. I'll Do a Little Conceptual Work to Show Them jump to 15:56 This one costs us the most. Not just as an individual, but as a profession. Don’t get me wrong, I have said this one to myself many times. If I just can show them my ideas, surely that will convince them to give me the project. My ideas are so outstanding, how can they not! But more often than not, they like the ideas, don’t hire me for the project, and probably take some of my ideas to the team they did hire. Again, this one hurts. But it also hurts all of the profession for us to give away any work at any time. It devalues our skills and knowledge to those who hire us. I’m not saying it’s easy to avoid that temptation, but for the benefit of all, we most definitely should. You Can Never Draw Too Much jump to 19:53 This one has manifested itself more and more in our digitally produced documentation world. The easier the software has become to operate and generate drawings, the more drawings we seem to WANT to make. Here the fallacy of just adding more drawings is a lie that gives us comfort that we have done enough and that we have proven our value. More sheets. Larger CD sets. On and on. I think is a way that we choose to compensate for being undervalued in general. It’s like we are the kindergartener that is showing everyone all the drawings they can make with a blue crayon. I can throw out this judgement because I too have fallen victim to this seemingly harmless lie. At Least We Got this One Detail in the Project jump to 27:53 This one is a tough one. Clients, budgets, economies, all can wreak havoc on our grand ideas and concepts for projects. We like to console ourselves with the notion that “at least we kept this or that”. I cannot say that I haven’t been here too. Of course I have with a career in public projects. But I think that almost every architect has fallen victim to have a project not go how we had hoped and in the end we lay claim to that one minor victory. But hey!, it is a victory and sometimes that means more than it seems. Many projects can be a struggle to get from conception to construction to occupation and we should not feel bad for laying claim to the bright spots we can gather. But sometimes, it is still just a little treat to east the more looming pain. That's Totally Clear - it's Obvious jump to 32:30 An architect’s thought process is not one that is typically understood by those on the outside of the profession. This little lie is one that we say quite often. We know it makes perfect sense and how could anyone not get it or understand. Unfortunately, not ever one can read the drawings, images, plans, sketches or even words as we truly mean them. Many times we find ourselves re-telling the story or having to explain our quite obvious intentions. I don’t think this is a good or bad occurrence, I think it’s just a reality of the profession. We all have the ability to see our ideas so clearly in our own minds, we often are mystified that others cannot see them the same way we do. This will Survive VE jump to 34:48 This one goes well with the previous entry. It’s one we tell ourselves during some of the worst times of the project process. Value Engineering is never really our friend. Some architects will say that it can be good for a project, but I think they are definitely kidding themselves. The lie of thinking that our big idea our grand gesture will survive the VE process is certainly a lie. Here is the trick. IF we are good enough to maintain the project budget and integrate the big idea, then the VE part is never even on the table and out project gets to stay intact! Of course, there are economic times that make this task extremely difficult, but with more skill we can make it almost impossible to separate the concept form the project with any amount of Value engineering. Then again, sometimes the budget monster just eats it all. Nobody will Ever See It jump to 39:16   These are both of the same genres. The notion that we can put a little less effort in on something that may not be as visible is quite common. Not just for architects, but in the AEC as an industry I would say. But I find that I can think this way during design, maybe in construction, but NEVER after it’s completed. On the contrary, I swear it’s the first thing and maybe even the ONLY thing I see when I am at that project. Or it will be the one element that is now 100% visible from multiple locations that you never even though about. So now EVEYRONE can see this poorly contrived element. UGH! This one can come back and bite you so hard. I will say this one has my favorite colloquialism to accompany the sentiment… “I will never see it from my desk.” While not a good attitude, it always makes me chuckle. BIM Will Cut Our Hours in Half jump to 44:06 The sales pitch for BIM glitters: clash detection, automated schedules, intelligent objects—project delivery sliced like a sushi roll. The unadvertised footnote? Those efficiencies arrive only after robust standards, component libraries, hardware horsepower, and staff training soak up early budgets. Over time, yes, ROI materializes—especially in complex work—but the first few cycles often add hours as teams wrestle templates and workflows. This lie deserves scrutiny because it breeds mismatched expectations: principals shave fee, staff sprint, and quality stumbles. Better framing: BIM reallocates hours, shifting coordination upstream, reducing construction chaos downstream. Communicate that redistribution, and clients will grasp why design may take longer while CA shortens. Invest in BIM like infrastructure—consistent naming conventions, version control, and periodic “model audits” keep the promise honest. When you walk a jobsite peppered with iPads instead of RFIs, you’ll see the payoff. But call BIM a magic time reducer and you’ll watch morale dip as fast as the RAM usage climbs. We Can Drop our Fee and Make It Back Later jump to 47:31 Discounting design service is the professional version of payday loans: cash today, compounded pain tomorrow. The myth survives because hope springs eternal—scope creep, change orders, or a future project will reimburse the sacrifice. In practice, clients anchor to the lowest price they’ve ever paid, and extras require the same negotiation energy as the original contract—only now from a weaker position. This lie warrants attention because it corrodes firm culture: staff race to hit unrealistic hours, quality slides, burnout spikes, and the spiral begins. The strategic alternative is value engineering the fee itself. Reduce deliverables commensurate with cost savings or stage the project in phases with clear gates. That reframes discounting as scope management, not desperation. If cash flow is the driver, explore milestone billing or retainer structures that protect margin. Some relationships may genuinely merit a break—non-profits, strategic clients—but document that generosity and set an expiration date. Over the arc of a career, pricing integrity builds trust and allows reinvestment in technology, research, and talent. Lowering fees as a default gambit is a race to the bottom no one wins, especially not the profession. Plan Reviewers Won't Catch That jump to 50:45 Picture the harried plans examiner sipping cold coffee behind a fortress of permit sets—surely they’ll overlook your forgotten guardrail note or the ADA stall that’s one inch shy.

Nobody wants to be the person who asks a question that causes everyone else within ear shot to turn and look at them. We spend the early part of our careers trying to prove we deserve a seat at the table, hoping we sound competent, sharp, with just the right amount of confidence. But architecture isn’t a field you get good at by pretending. It’s a craft you grow into by doing, which ultimately leads to asking questions early, often, and sometimes awkwardly. We are going to embrace that process. We’re digging into how architects keep learning after school, what a real internship should feel like, and how long it really takes to get good at what we do. Welcome to EP 175: Stupid Questions. [Note: If you are reading this via email, click here to access the on-site audio player]  Today, Andrew and I are going to be talking about why becoming an architect takes a long time, that this process involves doing a lot of different things, and how "stupid" questions play an important role in the education process of everyone in this profession. Just to get this out of the way, I am admitting here and now that I ask stupid questions all the time – maybe not as often as I used to, but they’re still there. The Myth of Knowing Everything jump to 3:51 Architecture school is a beginning, not an ending — a place where students are exposed to broad ideas, creative problem-solving, and the early language of the built environment. But the idea that graduation signals readiness for professional practice is a myth. Schools tend to focus heavily on conceptual design, theoretical frameworks, and academic critiques, with far less emphasis on the realities of technical documentation, consultant coordination, regulatory compliance, or contract administration. According to the National Architectural Accrediting Board (NAAB), while accredited programs must address professional competencies, mastery of technical skills is not expected upon graduation. The gap between academia and practice isn’t a flaw — it’s an acknowledgment that architecture is too vast to teach all at once. True expertise comes from layering education with experience, not from assuming a degree makes you "complete." Understanding this myth matters because it reframes early career experiences from imposter syndrome into opportunity. If graduates expect to know everything, they’ll view asking questions as a failure; if they expect to still be learning, questions become the most important tool they have. According to a survey by the American Institute of Architects (AIA) Emerging Professionals Committee, 78% of young architects reported feeling “unprepared” for the technical and managerial aspects of practice upon graduation. Yet, firms consistently report that curiosity, not technical perfection, predicts long-term success. Accepting that you won’t know it all — and that you're not supposed to — builds the humility and resilience needed to become a great architect. The myth is persistent, but the truth is far more empowering. It turns out that the real measure of growth isn’t how many answers you can recite, but the kinds of questions you’re willing to ask. "Judge a man by his questions rather than by his answers." — Voltaire This quote emphasizes the point that questions are more important than knowing all the answers — a perfect fit for reframing graduation not as mastery, but as the start of real learning. It aligns with breaking the myth that you're supposed to "know it all" after school. Learning on the Job: Interns jump to 13:46 Internships are often misunderstood by both students and firms. They aren’t simply about cheap labor or task delegation; they are an essential stage in transforming theoretical knowledge into applied skill. A well-structured internship fosters structured exposure to different phases of work: schematic design, construction documentation, consultant coordination, site visits, and client meetings. In 2021, the NCARB "By the Numbers" report highlighted that interns typically need exposure across 96 key tasks to qualify for licensure — spanning everything from code research to managing project budgets. Internships that invite "stupid questions" and allow young architects to see how drawings become buildings accelerate their growth exponentially. Learning happens fastest when interns feel safe asking what they don't understand without fear of looking foolish. This matters because architecture is a practical discipline built on experience, not just intellect. Good interns aren’t those who magically know everything; they’re the ones who know how to close the gaps between what they know and what they need to know. Mentorship and guided experience are what make the difference. A study published in The Journal of Architectural Education found that interns who were encouraged to ask questions and engage directly with project architects reported a 34% faster gain in job competencies compared to peers in more hierarchical, closed environments. Firms that treat interns as active learners — not passive drafters — not only invest in future talent but also improve project outcomes today by encouraging curiosity-driven quality control. When you’re early in your career, asking what feels like a 'stupid' question might sting for a moment, but staying silent guarantees you miss the chance to learn. "He who asks a question is a fool for a moment; he who does not ask remains a fool forever." — Confucius This quote speaks directly to the momentary discomfort of asking "stupid questions" during internships — but makes it clear that not asking is a far worse long-term mistake. It naturally fits into the section about embracing questions as part of on-the-job growth. https://www.lifeofanarchitect.com/are-college-grads-ready-for-the-working-world/ The Long Game jump to 25:24 There’s a brutal but liberating truth about architecture: it takes 5–10 years of full-time practice to get good. Not “good at SketchUp,” not “good at detailing” — but good in the holistic sense of being able to juggle design, documentation, consultant management, permitting, and construction issues simultaneously. Malcolm Gladwell’s famous "10,000-Hour Rule," introduced in Outliers, popularized the idea that mastery of complex skills typically demands a decade of focused practice. In architecture, these 10,000 hours come not from repetition alone but from layering projects, teams, and lessons learned across many different building types and scales. There’s no shortcut: skill is compounded experience. Recognizing this time horizon matters because it changes expectations and encourages persistence. The early years of an architecture career can feel overwhelming, marked by unfamiliar situations and daily mistakes. But viewed through the lens of a long journey rather than immediate proficiency, those mistakes become the raw material of growth. According to an NCARB 2023 study, architects who reported higher job satisfaction also reported having longer mentorship relationships and more diverse project exposure early in their careers — reinforcing the idea that sticking with it matters. Understanding the long game helps frame "stupid questions" not as signs of incompetence, but as natural milestones on the road to real expertise. Getting good at architecture isn’t about memorizing facts — it’s about building a mindset where asking better questions becomes a lifelong habit. "The art and science of asking questions is the source of all knowledge." — Thomas Berger Since this section emphasizes that it takes years (and ongoing questioning) to truly get good, Berger’s quote about questioning being the source of all knowledge reinforces the long view — that mastering architecture is built on continuous inquiry over time. https://www.lifeofanarchitect.com/architecture-and-the-art-of-getting-it-wrong/ Collaborative Work jump to 34:48 Architecture is collaborative by nature, involving a matrix of disciplines that no single individual can fully master. Structural engineers, civil engineers, MEP consultants, contractors, landscape architects, interior designers — each brings critical expertise to the project, and successful architects must integrate and coordinate it all. A McKinsey Global Institute report on construction industry productivity found that collaborative, multi-disciplinary teams outperform siloed teams by 25–30% in project quality and delivery time. Architects who accept that they cannot and should not know everything open the door to better projects through better questions. Collaboration isn’t a sign of weakness — it’s a strategy for excellence. This matters profoundly because architecture isn’t a test of individual genius; it’s a team sport that demands humility, clarity, and communication. Pretending to know answers you don't have — or being too proud to ask — often leads to critical errors. Conversely, asking “stupid questions” during coordination meetings can save millions in change orders and delays. According to a 2022 Dodge Data & Analytics SmartMarket Report, early collaboration among disciplines is directly linked to a  17% reduction in major field rework. Questions aren’t interruptions to the process; they are the process. The sooner architects normalize asking and listening across specialties, the stronger and more successful their projects will be. When working with others, the real mistake isn’t asking a naïve question — it’s pretending to know something and missing the chance to get it right. "The only real mistake is the one from which we learn nothing." — Henry Ford This quote fits perfectly because collaboration in architecture is all about continuous learning — not pretending you know everything. When architects or teams hide gaps, mistakes compound; when they ask questions, they improve.

There are bits of advice that one collects over a 30 year career and when given the chance, some are worth passing on to those who care to listen. While this could have been a lessons from my father sort of episode, we decided to keep things focused on those of us who either are, or want to be, architects, and we are going to pass along a handful of things that we wish we had known at the start of our careers. Welcome to Episode 174: Dear Future Architects. [Note: If you are reading this via email, click here to access the on-site audio player]  Partial Results from an Instagram Poll asking the question what "Future Architects" should know ... click to enlarge Today we are going to be talking about those interesting considerations and bits of advice that have been shared with us during our career. While they might not be applicable to everyone, I feel pretty confident that all the items we will be discussing today are of value. This will be the first “Dear Future Architects post as there are too many items to work through in a single episode. These are in the order than they came to mind and I didn’t want to presume a specific priority to them and set them in order of value. I also want to throw in there that a few of these are pretty hot and I fully expect people to think I am full of s%!t … but I am here to bring the pain. 01 Dear Future Architects ... jump to 04:55 Choose your firm based on the skills you want to build. Residential firms often hone your soft skills—communication, empathy, and negotiation—while commercial firms emphasize technical depth, systems coordination, and documentation. Source: https://www.lifeofanarchitect.com/big-or-small-whats-the-right-sized-firm-for-you/ In reflecting on my career, I’ve come to realize that the size of the firm you work for can shape the skills you develop, especially early in your career. If you’re just starting out, a small firm offers the opportunity to develop soft skills like communication, empathy, and negotiation because you're often thrown into situations where you're the point of contact with clients, contractors, and team members. You're more involved with every aspect of a project, and that experience helps you build your confidence. On the other hand, in larger firms, you get more exposure to complex projects that require technical proficiency, systems management, and understanding of legalities. While big firms can make you a better architect in that sense, they may not provide as many opportunities to hone those soft skills until you reach a higher level in the company. Personally, I’ve found that small firms, while sometimes lacking in technical depth, gave me the chance to sharpen my communication skills and gain a more intimate understanding of how a project works from start to finish. This has served me well as I’ve moved up in my career. But the reality is, each environment teaches you something different, and depending on what you want to learn, one might be a better fit for you than the other. 02 Dear Future Architects ... jump to 11:58 Start small if you plan to go solo. Working in a small firm exposes you to every aspect of running a practice—from contracts and client meetings to redlines and billing—which is invaluable if owning your own firm is in your future. Source:  https://www.lifeofanarchitect.com/architectural-job-starter-kit/ Looking at the question of whether to start in a small firm if you plan to eventually go solo, I believe it’s the best way to prepare. In a small firm, you’re exposed to everything: you write proposals, manage clients, and get a feel for what it really takes to run an office. When I switched from a small firm to a larger one, I found that my skills didn’t always align with what was expected. In a larger firm, tasks like proposal writing are handled by specialists, not generalists like I had been in a small firm. That experience made me realize that if you want to open your own office one day, you’ll be far ahead if you start in a small firm where you’re more likely to gain that well-rounded exposure. However, there’s also value in gaining experience at the size of firm you want to eventually own. If your goal is to have a larger firm, you should work at one first to understand the management dynamics involved. It’s critical to know how to manage a team and the business side of things before you step out on your own. Ultimately, a small firm gives you the foundational skills to run your own business, but exposure to larger firms can offer valuable insights into scaling up and managing larger teams and projects. 03 Dear Future Architects ... jump to 14:44 Learn to speak the language of money. Understanding financial modeling, forecasting, and project profitability is just as critical as knowing how to draft or design. Go beyond basic accounting—your career and your future firm will benefit. Source:  https://www.lifeofanarchitect.com/then-and-now-architectural-design-or-accounting/ One key piece of advice I’ve learned over the years is to learn to speak the language of money. Understanding financial modeling, forecasting, and project profitability is crucial, especially if you want to run your own firm. But even if you’re not planning on that, it’s just as important as learning to design. Most architects don’t learn these things, and they should. Accounting basics are fine, but understanding how to manage money long-term is key. Over the past year, I’ve spent a lot of time diving into finances at my firm in ways I never did before. It’s been a painful but essential learning process, helping me think beyond just surviving the next few months to making long-term financial decisions. The financial lessons I’ve learned are not just for business—they apply to personal finances as well. Recently, I set up an IRA and other accounts for my daughter, which made me reflect on how I wish someone had taught me this when I was 20. Financial literacy is something I believe more people should focus on at a young age—it makes a huge difference in your 50s and 60s. Back to the profession, financial knowledge is essential for understanding how projects and firms operate. From billing to managing people, the sooner you understand the financial side of the profession, the better. While students might initially resist this, learning these concepts is crucial. As I always say, knowledge is power—understanding where your money goes and how to plan for the future is what will give you the upper hand in your career and life. 04 Dear Future Architects ... jump to 27:44 Design for others, not yourself. Being a good designer means listening first. Your job is to translate someone else’s hopes and needs into a space that works, not impose your own tastes at their expense. Source:  https://www.lifeofanarchitect.com/designing-for-others/ One of the most important lessons I’ve learned as a architect and designer is to design for others, not yourself. I’ve had conversations with younger designers who aren’t listening well or pushing their own design ideas onto the project. The reality of being a good designer is understanding that your job is to translate someone else’s needs and goals into a design. It’s about listening first, understanding the client’s perspective, and delivering what they need—even if it’s not what you would personally choose. In the real world, you’re not designing for yourself. You’re designing for the client, and sometimes that means protecting the client from their own ideas, especially when they want something that might not be the best choice. This idea is tough for students to grasp because they are used to designing for themselves in school. But once they get into the real world, they often find themselves working with clients who don’t understand design the way they do. That’s when they realize that being a good designer isn’t about creating your perfect design—it’s about creating something that works for the client, even if it’s not your taste. I’ve learned that the goal of any project isn’t just to meet design expectations; it’s to make sure the project gets built within the constraints of budget, space, and practicality. In this profession, we have to find a balance between creativity and the hard realities of the project. We must deliver designs that work for the client, not just for ourselves. That’s what makes us professionals. Hobbyists design how they would like things to be, pro’s can design anything. 05 Dear Future Architects ... jump to 34:42 Understand that architecture requires commitment and desire. Becoming an architect isn't about thinking it sounds cool or liking to draw; it's a calling that demands dedication. Source: https://www.lifeofanarchitect.com/do-you-want-to-be-an-architect/ One of the key aspects of being successful in architecture is understanding that it requires commitment and desire. Architecture isn’t just about sketching cool designs or playing the role of a "tortured artist." It’s a job that requires time, effort, and a deep understanding of yourself so you can design in a productive and fulfilling way without feeling like a sellout. Balancing the artist's role with the demands of working for someone else is part of the job, but the truth is, if you have the dedication and put in the time, it’s a career that rewards that effort. The workaholic mentality is something that I recognize in myself, and while I don’t like downtime, I also know that the work I’ve done—volunteering, blogging, and more—has profoundly changed my career trajectory. Commitment and effort are critical, not just for personal satisfaction but because architecture is an industry full of people with that level of dedication. If you don’t have that same level of commitment, you’re up against people who do. While it’s not always healthy, that’s the reality of this profession.

Mentorship turns confusion into clarity, builds confidence, and connects you with people who help you grow faster than you ever could alone.

Most people have no idea what I do for a living, and to be honest, most of how I spend my time doesn’t look like the things I did when I was in college. Have things gone terribly wrong for me? What about Andrew? I’m pretty confident that his role as an architect is different than how he imagined it to be … and I think that this is all okay. It should be an interesting conversation, and possibly a mandatory exercise, to find out how architects actually spend their time. Chances are better than likely that the day to day experience for every single architect is unique with only a small bit of overlap … and that is what we are here to talk about. Welcome to EP 172: A Week in the Life of an Architect [Note: If you are reading this via email, click here to access the on-site audio player]  Today we are going to be talking about how we spend our time. I have answered this question as “A Day in the Life of an Architect” exactly 4 time previously on this website. https://www.lifeofanarchitect.com/an-actual-day-in-the-life/ The  very first "day in the life" sort of post that I ever wrote back on March 10, 2010. At this point, the website was barely 2 months old and I was with a firm that specialized in residential work. Since this was the first time I decided to talk about "a day in the life" I literally went minute by minute through my entire day, starting at 5:50am. https://www.lifeofanarchitect.com/a-day-in-the-life-of-an-architect/ Fast forward over 4 years to December 1, 2014 ... by this point I had changed jobs and was now working at a company where I had my name on the door, which suggests that I had some control over how I worked and spent my time. In this post, rather than going minute through minute along the tasks of my day, I broke into big chunks based on tasks ... one of which was making a margarita. https://www.lifeofanarchitect.com/ep-064-a-day-in-the-life-of-an-architect/ Time for some more changes - on to job number 3 since I started the website. This particular day was the first to be immortalized into a podcast episode  that went live on December 6, 2020. Andrew was struggling with Covid at the time of this recording so I had frequent guest and neighbor/architect Lane Acree on to discuss our particular days as it related to how we go about our business in the capacity of Principals at our firm. In an attempt to keep things somewhat fresh, beyond having another person's perspective being added to the mix, we simply broke down our days into early morning, morning, lunch afternoon, and evening. In each of these episodes, I typically choose a pretty interesting day  – mostly because I wanted to look cool and that my job was exciting. I also think it is interesting to go back through these “day in the life” snapshots to see how my typical day changed as I changed firms and as I changed responsibilities. So rather than simply looking at a singular day that  was selected because it was a “cool” day, we are going to change it up and actually look at a week of time so that we can avoid the possibility of selecting a singularly fabulous day. Monday jump to 7:58 a look at my work calendar for the week we are discussing today Bob I can’t stand Monday … it is easily the worst day of the week. All the meetings associated with preparing everyone for the work to be done that week, as well as all the in-house obligations – meaning, I don’t actually get a lot of work done on Mondays but yet my day is always full and I start the week off behind every single time. While the "Staffing Meeting" isn't the first thing I do on a Monday morning, it is typically the first meeting I have. Since I have Project Manager responsibilities in the office, that means I have some dominion over who is working where and on what. This meeting is generally about making sure that people are all keep busy, but not overly so. Almost immediately upon the completion of this first meeting, I have a Marketing and Digital strategy meeting. There are about 4 of us that routinely attend this meeting and since I have some digital strategy experience, I was originally brought in to leverage my knowledge and past experiences. Now that I am a principal phasing into a larger role, more and more marketing responsibilities are falling on me. Next up is a Principal's meeting (at least this week, once a month this would be a financial meeting). This is a Monday lunch meeting (brown bag) and the topics can vary wildly. Most of the time we discuss strategies that could have an impact on all 4 of our offices (which mean's firm policies and the like) but sometimes they can get a little Dallas office centric since Dallas is the largest office and most of the people (as well as Principals) are in this office. In the early afternoon, I was excited to work on a residential project we have in the office. It is something that I thoroughly enjoy - mostly because I am good at it - but the real treat is that it feels like I am actually doing something pure. There aren't a lot of moving parts on these residential projects and I have come to appreciate the complexities in their directness. After getting to work on this for a bit, I had to put either my Project Manager or my Principal hat on, I'm not entirely sure which, and check in with some co-workers that are developing a test fit for a student housing  project we are proving up in Austin, Texas ... but this is top secret stuff so I can't get into any specifics. My evening was pretty nice as I a had a Business Development dinner from 7:30 till 9:30pm. These are hit and miss on how enjoyable they are, but this one was a good time and while I was hoping to eat a better meal than I would have made for myself ... I didn't. As a side bar comment, I don't think sous vide steaks are all that great - it is a volume production process and produces a predictable yet unremarkable product, but this is a conversation we can have offline if you are interested. Employee Check ins = 1 7:15am till 10:00pm door to door This is a look at Andrew's week as discussed. Andrew This week happened to be the week of terminal reviews for the Master of Architecture program here at my program. As I am a studio instructor for the final year of the M.Arch program, I had to be involved in this process all week. What this entails is the student’s final project presentation after about eight months of work. The students begin their Final Study Project in August and this week is the final full presentation of that effort to their M. Arch committee. Each committee consists of three members who must “sign-off” on the work of the student. As the studio professor for this process, during this week I act as a type of “proctor” to keep the reviews running, making sure the committees know their roles, and recording the process as the studio professor. I participate in the review a small amount, but it is mostly the Committee that provides commentary and I am recording some of that while keep this all on schedule. Today, I have about 5/6 of these one hour session. For lunch I sat in a presentation by an interviewing faculty candidate as part of the hiring process. Then in the afternoon I go back to the reviews. There was also an AIAS meeting that evening. As I am the Faculty advisor, I had to stop by for a moment to make sure all was well. Today I did not stay for the entirety of the organizations meeting as it was already a long day. Home by about 7:30pm. I have some dinner and then do some work to prepare for tomorrow’s teaching. Maybe only an hour or two of work this evening. Tuesday jump to 15:19 redlines and plan concepts sketched out for the "Z House" Bob First day of real work – at least the kind that is typically billable. This week I spent time working on a residential project for one of commercial clients. I’m not sure just what our obligations are but he brought a pre-existing plan in and I told him that I would make some adjustments to where he started and we could have some follow up conversations. This basically means that I am going to redo a ton of stuff. The image that I am showing above is the "redlines" that I put together for this residential project. Half of these marks represent teachable moments, and the other half are reflecting that actual direction or solution that I want to take on this project. In addition to being a project designer, I am also a Project Manager on a few jobs, and it turns out that I might be pretty good in that role. I think all the years I spent doing nothing but high-end residential projects prepared me well to have conversations with people in a constructive manner. I am also pretty good with money and so without even knowing it, I stepped into a PM role and as a result, I spent time on this day working on PM stuff. We had a 5-storey tilt-wall office building project get to the 90% complete state a few years ago and our client – who I personally like – ran into some financial difficulties and the project essentially died. As a result of the reasons why it died, he didn’t pay his last invoice and since I am a good PM, I filed a lien on his property so that I could force a conversation about negotiating some sort of payment plan. Well, that got resolved about 11.5 months ago. Presumably because it was handled gracefully and with some tact, the owner called me back up 11.5 months later (which was about 2 weeks ago) and said his financing is now in place and he would like to resurrect the project. Since there were some "you didn't pay your full invoice last time" conversations, we have some issues to work through, and this means I spent about an hour of my day talking with the consultants on this job, explaining the situation, and asking them to dust off their pencils and give me some new fees to pick the project back up again. This is also the day that Andrew and I try and record the podcast episodes.