The Challenges Facing Architecture
To rethink architecture, we must first examine the enormous challenges that are currently facing our industry.
Let me preface this by saying I love architecture — I began studying it in 2007 after many years of uncertainty about my professional future. I immediately realized it was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I love the merger of creative and critical thinking. I love the fact that ideas are expressed visually and tangibly.
I love buildings — if I have time before an appointment in Manhattan, I always choose to walk to my next destination so I can stroll down an unfamiliar block or revisit one I haven’t been to in a while. I constantly analyze the different typologies of houses in my small residential neighborhood while driving with my family. I think about the porches, study the rooflines, admire the old wood siding and envy the landscaping. Whenever my family and I visit a new city, I sneak away for at least a couple of hours to walk the streets and check out the latest architecture of the neighborhood. Before picking up the pencil, I chose the hammer and worked in construction for over a decade. Since then, I have contributed to the design and construction of dozens of projects ranging from single-car garage extensions to multi-billion dollar developments.
I love teaching architecture. After the first week of my undergraduate studies, I decided to remain in architectural academia for as long as they let me. One of my favorite moments of the year is the first day of class each Fall when I return to campus after summer break and meet all of my new students face to face. These students are the best creative problem solvers you will ever encounter, and you will often find them in the studio all hours of the night scrutinizing every last detail of their projects. Architectural education is unlike any other method of pedagogy I have ever encountered. I was first drawn to the hands-on aspects of it. An architecture student will immediately realize their academic future is rooted in production, presentation, and critical thinking — not exams and papers. You will learn to argue for your ideas and present them clearly while fending off the criticism from an army of professors and professionals. Tears will be shed due to frustration and lack of sleep, but you will emerge with a thick skin, the ability to take criticism well, and most importantly, the ability to merge technical and artistic thought.
Regardless of my personal feelings about buildings and academia, there’s no question that the practice of architecture is facing many challenges. I am writing this is because of my love of architecture and my desire to see it thrive in a rapidly transforming world. To do this, we must first examine the underlying issues with the practice of architecture. This article will highlight some of those issues. Then, over the coming weeks, I will explore strategies to help deal with these issues to make the practice more equitable, accessible, and profitable by implementing Digital Practice methodologies.
First, let’s talk about the salary issue. Architecture has one of the worst debt-to-income ratios of all professional industries. The path to obtaining a professional degree can vary, but in the United States, this most likely consists of either five years of an undergraduate degree or seven years total of an undergraduate plus a graduate degree. I know it’s complicated — it took me a long time to figure it out as well.
Licensure requirements vary by state, but typically obtaining and maintaining an architecture license within the US requires the educational commitments described above and a minimum of three years of practice. In addition to that requirement, an aspiring architect must pass six licensing exams and pay multiple registration fees to national and state organizations. Post licensure, continuing education is required in perpetuity, which comes with a substantial time and financial commitment. The amount of work and expense needed to practice as a licensed architect is comparable to many other professions with substantially higher entry-level salaries and ceilings.
The combination of these financial factors leads to a few things. First, talented aspiring architects may not be able to bear the financial burden required to even attend school due to the high debt they would incur during the process. Second, students who pursue a degree and take on loans often find it hard to earn enough money to pay living expenses and repay that debt, which causes financial stress. This can often lead to the third issue, which is the attrition of architects to other industries.
I genuinely hate to see when a talented, junior architect leaves the profession to pursue a career in a peripheral industry. They often make the jump to real estate, construction, tech, or the client-side as an owner’s rep, to name a few options. But is it really that hard to blame them? While toiling through the long hours working as a junior architect for meager pay, I would often wonder if it was all worth it.
I know it can be a challenging ride at times, but I categorically love architecture and want to see it thrive. I hope that we as an industry can provide strategies to make our process more efficient, increase profits, share that financial influx with employees at all levels and retain young, ambitious architects. I also hope to encourage a new generation of architects to think differently about the design process and showcase their ability to revolutionize the industry by implementing change from the ground up. I do not want to see people leave the industry, but I want to see the industry adapt to changing tides and reverse some of the trends causing people to flee.
While we’re talking about attrition, we might as well discuss the increasing loss of scope within the design process to external consultants and, surprisingly, to our clients themselves. Don’t get me wrong — I do think outsourcing or taking certain aspects of the process away from architects and designers is valuable and necessary. One thing that comes to mind here is building department filings, although one could argue that a more efficient filing process would be an alternative solution (more on that in later articles). Removing filing from an architect’s plate frees up more time for them to focus on what they should be doing — architecture. However, many aspects of the design process are being outsourced to sub-consultants that could be managed by the architect. We also see the management and oversight of larger projects shift from the architect’s scope to large engineering firms or general contractors. I am fearful that the future role of an architect is that of a consultant who is in charge of mainly design oversight, and the architect’s traditional role as a project coordinator (or, more nostalgically, “master builder”) will disappear.
As projects increase in size and complexity, it becomes increasingly difficult for architects to streamline the design process. It also increases our reliance on outside consultants, allowing for more focused expertise at the expense of creating complex communication and coordination channels. Therefore, project life cycles are still long and show no signs of decreasing. It’s not unheard of for a mid-sized building to take five or more years to complete from the moment the design process starts until they are ready to move in. Five years! Think about how much your life has changed in that period. Think about how much the world has changed over the past half-decade. Tenants occupying these buildings increase employee counts, acquire and sell other companies, weather recessions, and dramatically shift their business models over the project life cycle. When a sizeable infrastructural project is complete, it may already be too small to handle the increased population it was meant to serve. Many projects have died because, upon completion of design, it no longer suited the client’s or the public’s needs, and construction never even begins. This doesn’t benefit anyone. By streamlining the design process and building flexibility to respond to rapidly changing client needs, we can provide a better experience for our clients and protect ourselves from lost production time. We can also leverage our skillset to help clients better anticipate their future needs and think about our role beyond a building designer.
Speaking of recessions and economic life cycles, architecture is one of the least recession-proof industries out there. Let’s face it — almost every industry that relies on financing and steady cash flow is negatively impacted by recessions. However, this effect is disproportionate among architecture firms. During the peak of the last significant economic downturn starting in 2008, unemployment among architects was estimated to be 13.9%, while the rate was 7.7% for recent graduates with a Master’s degree. This does not account for architects who took jobs in other fields. Suppose recessions occur, on average, every four years, and life cycles of large projects can approach five years or more. In that case, there’s a pretty strong chance that a recession will occur during the design or construction of a substantial project. Recessions can cause projects to slow down, go on hold, or completely stop, which is deadly for a profession that relies so heavily on consistent production, billing, and cash flow. Strategies that help decrease the length of a project design increase flexibility within the design process, and re-examine the revenue streams of architecture can help mitigate the negative impact a recession has on a firm.
It is often difficult to explain the necessity of architecture and why an architect is required on specific projects. To this point, architecture is primarily a luxury. Let me explain by exploring a few scenarios in which an architect gets hired. Some clients want a boutique, unique design. They see an architect’s website or Instagram posts and think, “I like that. I want something like that,” so they go out and potentially hire that architect. Sometimes a business has a particular need, and they know an architect specializes in a specific type of building, like healthcare or workplace. Hence, they go and potentially hire the architect. All of that being said, it is not mandatory to retain an architect to get approval for a project — engineers can do this in many jurisdictions. There are also projects where the amount of work or type of work doesn’t require any professional sign-off, so you can skip the approvals process altogether. Architects typically do not do most of the production on larger projects, and specific typologies of buildings may seem like they don’t need an architect. In fact, it is estimated that the percentage of buildings designed by architects is in the single digits.
I was working on a small residential project once, and a client started asking me about the design process. They first inquired about the structural framing and foundation of the house. I explained how I usually roughly sketch out the concept, then I send that concept out to an engineer who actually sizes and specifies everything. Then they asked if I would select and design their air conditioning and heating system. I responded that I usually work with a mechanical contractor to figure out those systems. Then they asked if I would get the building permit, and I told them an expediter handles that. Finally, they asked if I could figure out how much it would cost when all is said and done, and I responded, “Well, we’ll need to get a contractor on board before we can figure that out.” I’ll never forget the look on their face when the client asked, “What is it that you actually do?”
That anecdote is an exaggeration, but it is a fair representation of the fact that it is difficult to describe the value architects bring to a project. Lawyers litigate and write contracts. They help families with wills and purchasing property. Accountants file tax returns, analyze the finances of companies and perform audits. Doctors examine their patients, perform surgery, prescribe medication, and recommend treatment. Architects design buildings — but a lot of other professions do that as well. In fact, some general contractors will do this as part of their construction services, and many jurisdictions allow engineers to file to get a permit. One could argue that engineers will actually be able to perform most of the calculations outside the architect’s expertise, so they are more qualified in many instances. So why hire an architect? Or, more precisely, why hire an architect to be the project leader when the design is a small part of the overall process?
In the end, we often lose projects because it can be hard to justify the cost of architecture. By implementing advanced analytical thinking and Digital Practice into our process, we can first prove how the value of good design can provide a high return on investment (not necessarily financially, but also sustainably, culturally, and ethically) for our clients; and also how that return on investment can be tracked early and often to make sure we are fulfilling the project needs. We can also leverage emerging technologies to help capture the scope we are losing by making more intelligent, better-informed decisions. This can make architecture more accessible, opening up our client base and influence as stewards of the built environment.
Okay, so now that we’ve covered the industry’s value determination and financial issues, let’s talk logistics. The architectural design process is desperately in need of an overhaul. For those who have never been through it, let me give you a somewhat abbreviated breakdown of this process for a developer-driven, mid-sized project. Hold on to your seats.
First, a potential client looks at a property for possible development or already has a property in their portfolio. At some point, a client makes the decision that they want to move forward with a project. In our scenario, this is a mid-sized office building in Manhattan with a retail component at the bottom. This decision was most likely based on zoning allowances, market conditions, and the client’s development strategy. There are probably thousands of mid-sized office buildings with retail components in Manhattan already in existence, so it’s not like we’re reinventing the wheel here. They may, at this point, award the project to a single architect for the whole building, but they may also likely award the building (or as we call it, “core and shell” or “base building”) to one architect and the interior design (or “fit-out”) to another. Sometimes this fit-out designer is selected by a future building tenant, or sometimes the developer chooses them as part of the overall design process. In either instance, let’s assume it’s two different design teams for the building. They may even award the retail at the base to a third (or more) entity or hold off on designing these spaces until they have tenants for them, which comes later. Now scheduling and communication between design firms can become an issue. You can create the retail space in tandem with the rest of the building, which provides a host of coordination issues between different design firms. Alternatively, you can start the fit-out process of those retail spaces after construction starts, which usually leads to demolition and reconfiguration of a space before it is ever even occupied! At this point, we may have three or more architectural firms working on the project before the building is even completed. Is your head spinning yet? Because mine is, and I do this every day.
Now that we have the design team in place, it’s time to get consultants on board! Each architect will most likely have, at a minimum, a MEPFP (mechanical, electrical, plumbing, fire protection) consultant and a structural consultant. Sometimes, the architects involved in the project will use the same consultant within the same building, but they frequently do not. Those consultants now need to communicate with each other, meet the architectural requirements, and tie their systems together seamlessly. For example, the fit-out MEPFP consultant’s ducts need to tie into the main ducts that the core and shell MEPFP consultant is locating and sizing. Any changes or additions within this pipeline may create a domino effect that impacts the other consultants or architects. For example, if a steel beam gets larger by two inches vertically, it could clash with an air conditioning duct and require that duct to move down to avoid the clash. And since we shifted the duct down, it now overlaps with a sprinkler pipe. This pipe now needs to move to accommodate this change. The ceiling might need to also get lower, which has architectural and spatial implications. Any lights in this ceiling also need to move and so on — you get the idea. Imagine working with a team of consultants handling each of these disciplines — in this scenario alone, we could possibly be dealing with a structural engineer, a mechanical engineer, a lighting designer, and an architect — all for two inches! Each of these parties needs to be alerted to this change and make sure their designs can accommodate it. Finally, in the end, your client doesn’t want the ceiling lower, or perhaps building codes require a specific ceiling clearance, so you need to go back to the drawing board to resolve this issue in some other way.
The above scenario is for a mid-sized project. For a skyscraper, multi-building development, or a sizeable infrastructural project, the above process gets magnified substantially, as does the number of parties involved. The process itself is what we call coordination. It is one of the architect’s primary responsibilities during the design process and one of the most time-consuming and hardest costs to justify to the client. It is also the part of the process where things are most likely to be lost in translation. And the main issue with the above scenario? Mostly everyone involved is only thinking about their scope as they are designing. This brings me to yet another aspect of the profession that is counter to productivity and collaboration, siloed workflows.
Siloed workflows occur commonly with external consultants, but they are also a major internal issue within companies. Specific teams or employees are asked to focus on certain aspects of the project with minimal overlap. As a result, it’s often difficult to evaluate how decisions affect other parts of the project, both internally and externally. We have yet to even talk about the contractor who is actually constructing the building. They come into this process later, and they will have input and impact on all of these items.
Why is it set up this way? First, this siloed arrangement protects from scope creep. Even the most minor tasks can balloon into massive ones on a large project, resulting in significant fee implications. Say, for example, a light needs to be shifted an inch to accommodate a change in the ceiling product specified for a project. If I take a minute to move that light, even though it’s not my responsibility, no big deal. Now take that one light and multiply it by two thousand lights that need to be changed throughout the entire building, and now we are talking hours and hours of work. To avoid scope creep, the lighting consultant would need to own that change. In practice, first, the architect needs to convey this information to the consultant by sending them an updated 3D model reflecting the ceiling change. Then the consultant would take the countless hours required to move the lights, update their model, then send it back to the architect. You’d be lucky if this process only took a week from start to finish. Imagine we could just move that light without spending 30 hours of labor or taking a week to coordinate?
Second, this arrangement works to clearly define responsibilities and therefore limit liability for the parties involved in the event of an error, oversight, delay, etc. However, I would argue that the process itself increases the possibility of issues arising due to the implementation of rigid communication channels throughout the process. Basically, in our attempt to shield ourselves from liability, we are actually, in turn, increasing the probability of issues arising due to overly complex channels of communication. This frequently leads to finger-pointing, and even if the architect is not responsible for the error, it often takes years of legal battles (and therefore legal fees) to prove no-fault.
Siloed workflows are further reinforced by the milestone-based delivery method of architecture directly in conflict with flexible, iterative thinking. For those unfamiliar with the typical design process, let me walk you through it. First, a client signs an agreement to start work. Next, the architect begins a five-phase, milestone-based delivery process, which has been around for decades and is the backbone of any architecture project. Standard architecture contracts rely heavily on this framework. These five phases are concept design, schematic design, design development, construction documentation, and construction administration. Billing is usually tied into completion or sub-milestones within these phases. There are guidelines floating around that define what should be completed in each of these phases, but the general gist is as follows.
Concept design varies depending on the project, but typically, we establish the overall vision for the project, do preliminary analysis, and nail down big design decisions. For example, if we were designing a skyscraper in the middle of Manhattan, we would be looking closely at the zoning for that area to see what regulations would drive the overall form, or massing. We would then evaluate this against the client’s needs to determine the breakdown of the program (architect speak for space type) within the building. We may also be doing some really cool renderings of the finished product to sell the client on the vision, highlighting the crown jewel spaces. If we were designing a vacation home on a large piece of property by a lake in upstate New York, we would be determining the best location on the site to place the building based on views, access to the lake, existing trees, and the angle of the sun through the day. For a new corporate headquarters interiors project, we may be brainstorming ways to develop a space that best exemplifies the client’s brand and cordoning off large swaths of space for specific program elements. This is a great time to learn about the client’s core objectives and not focus on execution or production. The main goal here is to lock down the most prominent “moves” and project direction. There may also be coordination with consultants to determine significant project systems, like deciding on a steel, a concrete, or a wood structural system.
Next, we move on to schematic design. At this phase, we would hope the major decisions for the project are made, and we would focus on more specific layout planning. We would start locating program elements by dividing up the predefined zones into more discreet spaces. That big block of space allocated for private offices earlier needs to be broken down into individual units. Circulation (stairs, elevators, escalators, hallways) is critical at this point, as is thinking about the user’s journey through the space. If this is a base-building project, we produce a more refined facade design. Code analysis would occur here. The overall occupancy of the area is critical in determining the life safety requirements, so the use of each space would start to be defined, and we would start to consider fire protection between floors. Consultants would begin sizing the equipment and creating the general layout of duct, pipe, and electrical runs. Engineers would start thinking through structural concepts and getting preliminary sizing of elements to help prevent any clearance issues that may arise later.
Design Development follows Schematic Design and is focused on finalizing more detailed elements of the project. At this point, hopefully, the architect is selecting the materials palate for the project and specifying the exact products to use. They are working more closely with consultants and engineers to integrate the systems into the building. Remember those lights we talked about earlier? Here is where the architect would work closely with the lighting designer, MEPFP consultant, structural engineer, and others to make sure all of those systems come together cleanly and protect the intent of the design. We may be finalizing our permitting and approvals, although that process may also have been started much earlier. The permitting process has its own host of issues and probably merits its own article.
Next is Construction Documents, which is when we pull it all together and develop a set of drawings and specifications from which a contractor can accurately price and build a project. This is the most time-consuming portion of the process and can take thousands of hours to complete. Here is where every little nuance and detail of the project is scrutinized, documented, and quantified. At this point, hopefully, all significant decisions have been made, and the focus is solely on documenting these decisions accurately.
Finally, if you’re lucky enough to get through design and approvals, it’s time to actually start building. After the architect designs the building, they must act as a steward to guide the project through construction in the phase called Construction Administration. This is a little-known aspect of the architect’s role but can last longer than the design process itself. During this phase, the architect is responsible for verifying that work is being completed as designed and for resolving issues that may arise during construction. Finally, they must help fill in any gaps or answer any questions the contractor may have during the construction process.
Projects range in size drastically, and the decisions made in each process can also vary wildly. This begs the question: Why are we using the same phasing structure even though the project scale and decision-making process differ significantly? The best designers I have come across can leap across these phases and evaluate how decisions impact the project from start to finish, so I don’t understand why we encourage a thought process that rewards milestone-based decision making. I also don’t know why implementing tools that augment the ability to make these decisions is not more prevalent throughout the industry. Design should be messy and quick, production should be refined and deliberate. However, we cannot be so messy during design that we are making bad decisions, and we cannot be so inflexible that we cannot change things once production starts. This shift requires a major reexamination of the process as a whole.
The current milestone-based delivery discourages or penalizes changes later in the process. For example, an architect may overlook a critical code requirement and discover it later while deep in Construction Documentation. I’ve seen this happen to the best architects since there are just so many ever-changing regulations and requirements. Or let’s pretend the client changed their mind about how they want to use the upper floor of their building. Say it was initially supposed to be a private penthouse, and now they want to turn it into a rooftop club. It doesn’t really matter the cause for the change in this scenario, but the critical point is that it’s a substantial curveball coming late in the process. Due to this change, we need to widen a stair by six inches. This change can have a monumental effect on the design process. We are talking hundreds, if not thousands, of hours of revisions that need to be done to account for this. Not only will this stair widening affect the architecture of every floor, but also the structure, lighting, air conditioning, plumbing, and so on. Because the process is so rigid, we are unable to quickly adapt to changes. The architect may or may not get paid for this change depending on who is at fault, but that’s not the point. The project suffers, and the client suffers. This is an extreme example, but there are many ways to anticipate these changes and provide flexibility later in the design process by leveraging Digital Practice methodologies.
So, despite the challenging financial and logistical issues, why do we do this? Why be an architect? It’s because we like to create beautiful things. We want to create spaces where people come together. We like to build homes for families to grow in and workplaces for people to socialize, feel productive, and enjoy. We create stadiums and museums and airports and parks and places of worship so people can gather. We love to step back at the end of a project and realize the vision that only existed on paper as a glimmer of an idea all of those months ago is now a fully realized physical space. The start and finish are not the issues — the road to get there is so challenging, and I hope we can make that process better for all architects to free us up on what we love to do. And while we making it better, we might as well make it more efficient, more collaborative, and more profitable to everyone involved.
