The Act is the Reward

Architecture, if practiced as a business only will kill a creative soul.  Conversely, a creative soul without a business mind will fail as an architect.  That’s one of the many knocks on architects, right?  If you’re an architect or even remotely affiliated with the construction industry in any sense you’ve seen this unfortunate phenomenon firsthand.  By our very nature we are idealistic creatures – otherwise we wouldn’t have chosen this career.  We get tangled in the idea and forget the budget or any number of similar scenarios.  I’ve become the opposite.  Over the last however long, I’ve concerned myself more with profit margins than I have with vision.  I’ve admittedly forgotten the art of architecture.

I’m likely not alone in that realization but the most hardened jaded architect still (if only secretly) believes that a good design can change the world.  Too often, we – and when I say we I regrettably mean I – become consumed with the business aspect of practice; we fall into the perfect trap of staying in business and fail to recognize that we are not selling a commodity.  Yes, staying in business has recently proven to be an art and a skill unto itself that many couldn’t manage and those firms and individuals did not survive the recession.  As distressing as that fact might be, I choose to see it as a Darwinian cleansing of the job.  Almost as a stubborn coalition, we have continued to give the client what they want, not what they need.  My firm isn’t immune to this reality and we are tops, unequaled actually in our market niche, but complacency is the mortal enemy of all things good.  Art should always win the day.

It’s almost unavoidable though that the art and discipline of pure design is forced to take a backseat in a market driven economy, but that shouldn’t make it acceptable.  Yes, there is truth in the futility of reinventing the wheel but if we do not adapt and advance our significance, we are in the death throws of our last days not only as a vocation, but more importantly as a moral standard against which all professionals are judged.  The shitty bit is that it will be a death bed of our own making. 

A friend recently asked me if I still loved what I do.  I instinctually gave her the stock answer, Of course I do.  Though that is indeed true, I was compelled to follow with, but my passion lies elsewhere.  I don’t think that I had given any real thought to my level of satisfaction with my work prior to that exchange in a long time.  It’s just what I do for a living, right?  The avalanche of canvases filling my walls and spilling out of my studio should have been an indicator of this prickly reality – that which I love isn’t fulfilling my creative desires.

I’m not so naïve as to assume that anything I do or say will have a measurable affect on anyone or anything but that’s no reason not to try, right?  To that end, I decided a few weeks ago to stage an internal design competition in my studio.  I created a fictitious client with fictitious parameters, a fictitious deadline.  I filled the program with useless information and gave clear, if cryptic, instruction on the client’s expectations.  I saw an opportunity not only to reignite my own creative vigor towards my chosen path but to set sails more directionally toward the firm I want to be a part of and to ultimately own, my firm.  I use the term my firm loosely, by the way.  It’s not mine in any financial or legal sense, but I most definitely have an interest in the consequence of its future.  I cut my teeth here – these gents gave me an opportunity when most firms didn’t, wouldn’t dream of doing so, so yeah I’m loyal.  I’ve been vocal about my intent on ownership since day one and I’ve been emotionally and psychologically invested from that day to this. 

Back to the competition, I must admit that my expectations for my studio’s performance were next to nil.  There was a lot of bitching and moaning prior to and we have been slammed the last couple of weeks.  Truthfully, I had been preparing myself all week for the holier than though heavy I would have to lay on them about their personal commitment to their professional development and the value of the opportunity and the significance of being an architect and why I’ve been so pissed off about everything lately and on and on and on.  I had epic material prepared, but as they so often do, they surprised me.  They all brought really good, outside the box design to the table.

It was a tiny moment in the grand scheme of all things, but I sat down this afternoon with some friends around a table and talked about architecture; end of list. You just can’t know what that means to me.  Of course it was tempered with budget and client need and constructability but the crux of the conversation was about what it is that we do.  It was personal.  It was specific.  It was about the implication of and veracity of thoughtful design.  It was exactly what I needed. 

In a selfish effort not to be an asshole, I offered my own design up for critique based on the same parameters as the rest of the cadre.  I hadn’t produced an actual design in too many days to count.  I knew as soon as I put pencil to paper that the root of my distress lay not in the quality of my work product, but more so in the absence of my embracing of the work.  As my pulse quickened, I was reminded of why I am who I am and it was as validating an experience as I can remember.  It dawned on me that the reward isn’t the final product.  It’s not the accolades one might acquire.  It’s not that my design will necessarily change anything.  It’s not that I will be able to pay the mortgage this month.  The reward isn’t that I might be regarded as a decent architect.  It’s not that we will stay in business or even that we will get repeat clients on the strength of my performance and grow the business.  The reward is wholly embodied in the act of creating the design.  I’ve known this about art forever, but it never occurred to me to apply it to my career.  The reward is not selling the piece – the reward is the act of painting it.

The act is the reward.  I said this to my studio this afternoon and you could almost feel the gravity in the room shift due to the collective impulsive rolling of eyes.  It’s a hard sell, especially to Millennials but it’s a valid statement and I stand behind it.  The act is the reward.

That singular narcotic moment of creative bliss may only come once a decade, but when it hits, Holy Toledo you know you are alive.