I'm amazed at how long it's taking me to learn this lesson: You need to have something worthwhile to offer society, and you need to actually offer it. Case in point: Robyn and I practice architecture. This is something worthwhile in most urban areas. It's not so much a worthwhile offering in rural areas. Compound that with the mandate to actually offer it: we need to be pitching architecture loudly and frequently.
Given our situation at the edge of the world, we can't be content with having something to offer of marginal value, nor can we be content with having a good pitch. Our margins are so thin, we have to be good at both.
So, who is our community of clients? Is the architecture-procuring community our community? And if so, are we making the pitch?
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Friday, December 23, 2011
Specification grade
We recently completed a residential project as the design-build entity; we designed and the built the project. Because of cost constraints, I found myself choosing alternative products a couple times. Each product alternative had its own rationale, and I found myself wondering about the specification process architects go through, whether we are serving our clients by specifying top-quality all the time.
One product was a roof drain. I originally specified Zurn Z-125 brass roof drains. These run $200 each. We ran into a procurement snag which could have negatively affected schedule, and the plumbing supply house suggested a PVC subsitute. These cost $48 each. Well, the PVC drains work. I am quite happy with them, and realize now they should have been my first choice.
A second product was for decking boards. I originally wanted to use Meranti, which is sold as a Phillipine mahogany. I've used it before, and it's really nice. However, the price has gone up quite a bit in the last few years, and so I asked the local building supply store to provide pricing for about six different options. We ended up choosing Western Red Cedar, which I love, and which happens to be about the least expensive (in STK grade- select tight knots) decking out there. Plastic lumber turns out to be more expensive than ipe, which surprised me.
I third product was for structural silicone sealant. We did a lot of research on this, and specified Dow 795, which runs about $7 per tube. Well, we didn't need anything that expensive, and ended up using a locally stocked Dow silicone sealant. I'll use the 795 on a subsequent project where we truly need a structural silicone, but it was silly of me to specify the 795 for this project.
Could the PVC drains, the Western Red Cedar and the silicone withstand comparison using life cycle costing? I think so. What is more intriguing is that my thought process changed when I stopped wearing my architect hat and put on my contractor's hat. It would be helpful if I did that at the start of construction documents, when I'm detailing and specifying. Perhaps that is what CDs are: when you stop being the cape-wearing architect and put on your toolbelt, thinking, how am I going to build this thing, on time and on budget?
One product was a roof drain. I originally specified Zurn Z-125 brass roof drains. These run $200 each. We ran into a procurement snag which could have negatively affected schedule, and the plumbing supply house suggested a PVC subsitute. These cost $48 each. Well, the PVC drains work. I am quite happy with them, and realize now they should have been my first choice.
A second product was for decking boards. I originally wanted to use Meranti, which is sold as a Phillipine mahogany. I've used it before, and it's really nice. However, the price has gone up quite a bit in the last few years, and so I asked the local building supply store to provide pricing for about six different options. We ended up choosing Western Red Cedar, which I love, and which happens to be about the least expensive (in STK grade- select tight knots) decking out there. Plastic lumber turns out to be more expensive than ipe, which surprised me.
I third product was for structural silicone sealant. We did a lot of research on this, and specified Dow 795, which runs about $7 per tube. Well, we didn't need anything that expensive, and ended up using a locally stocked Dow silicone sealant. I'll use the 795 on a subsequent project where we truly need a structural silicone, but it was silly of me to specify the 795 for this project.
Could the PVC drains, the Western Red Cedar and the silicone withstand comparison using life cycle costing? I think so. What is more intriguing is that my thought process changed when I stopped wearing my architect hat and put on my contractor's hat. It would be helpful if I did that at the start of construction documents, when I'm detailing and specifying. Perhaps that is what CDs are: when you stop being the cape-wearing architect and put on your toolbelt, thinking, how am I going to build this thing, on time and on budget?
Thursday, December 22, 2011
How much do you need to know?
We are a small firm. Sometimes, it seems like it's just me. Other times, we are proud of our 4-person status. Either way, we are small.
To deal with the difficulty in competing against large firms when we are so small, we have traditionally tried to become really good at a whole series of tasks. We have also attempted (and are attempting again) to develop partnerships with other firms.
But as I contemplate what it takes to build a building, I realized there are quite a lot of tasks involved, and wonder whether one person could possibly do it all.
First, there's programming. This can be a specialty. There are people working for large firms who are programmers. That's all they do! How many other tasks could be single-person careers?
Marketing.
Contracts.
Code analysis.
Schematic design (these are the flowing capes and cool haircut crowd)
Energy modeling.
Detailing
Project management
Specifications
Life cycle costing
Construction administration
Interiors
Librarian
CAD manager
IT
And this list does not include the fun stuff, like research, strategic visioning, or all the professional community tasks, like AIA and CSI involvement. The more I think about it, the more I think about the phrase "head splitting."
To deal with the difficulty in competing against large firms when we are so small, we have traditionally tried to become really good at a whole series of tasks. We have also attempted (and are attempting again) to develop partnerships with other firms.
But as I contemplate what it takes to build a building, I realized there are quite a lot of tasks involved, and wonder whether one person could possibly do it all.
First, there's programming. This can be a specialty. There are people working for large firms who are programmers. That's all they do! How many other tasks could be single-person careers?
Marketing.
Contracts.
Code analysis.
Schematic design (these are the flowing capes and cool haircut crowd)
Energy modeling.
Detailing
Project management
Specifications
Life cycle costing
Construction administration
Interiors
Librarian
CAD manager
IT
And this list does not include the fun stuff, like research, strategic visioning, or all the professional community tasks, like AIA and CSI involvement. The more I think about it, the more I think about the phrase "head splitting."
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Money-making intellectuals
I met an acquaintance for a sit-down today; she has been a political operative for some years now, and wants to return to her original loves: art, design, writing. She's a creative, that's for sure. Trouble is, she's in Eastern Maine, and there's not a lot of market for creative thinkers and artists. Sure, there are artists around, and there are creatives. But this art and creativity is consumed mostly by summer people, not by natives. And, the stuff that sells is not always the critically interesting work; it tends to be the stuff that mirrors what people love about Maine: rustic beauty, tradition, simplicity.
These traits are good, and I'm glad they are here. But as we talked about the improbability of making a living in Eastern Maine being an art critic, it became clear we both shared the same realization, that our digs did not appreciate the intellectual. I have gone to several artist open houses and commented on composition, and I get this blank stare from the artist. They often do not look at their own work critically. They often do not curate their work. In other words, they have no critical framework through which they organize their body of work. How can this be?
If there is no need for critical exposition or curatorial organization, then what we are faced with is a region that is operating as an unstructured region, devoid of consciousness. This may be too harsh an indictment, but I think in a way folk art is just that: art without reflection.
These traits are good, and I'm glad they are here. But as we talked about the improbability of making a living in Eastern Maine being an art critic, it became clear we both shared the same realization, that our digs did not appreciate the intellectual. I have gone to several artist open houses and commented on composition, and I get this blank stare from the artist. They often do not look at their own work critically. They often do not curate their work. In other words, they have no critical framework through which they organize their body of work. How can this be?
If there is no need for critical exposition or curatorial organization, then what we are faced with is a region that is operating as an unstructured region, devoid of consciousness. This may be too harsh an indictment, but I think in a way folk art is just that: art without reflection.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
On Reading Safescape
I'm reading "Safescape", by Al Zelinka and Dean Brennan.
Nobody wants to be unsafe.
However...
And this is a big "however" because I moved to rural Maine partly so my children would be growing up in a safe environment:
Is there a difference between "safe" and "good" design? Which begs the question, what do we mean by good design?
There is a time when the community is so strong, and the impacts of humanity so small, that no design is necessary to have a safe, healthy environment. That is probably what rural living is all about. It's not just that the houses are far apart. It's that people have a surplus of freedom, so their natural inclination is to be friendly in public. There are so few people, you have to be nice to strangers.
When populations get dense, trouble brews, and you have to be more careful. You have to design your physical environment to minimize opportunities for trouble. When does a community cross that line? When do they know they have crossed the line? Is there a way to go back?
Nobody wants to be unsafe.
However...
And this is a big "however" because I moved to rural Maine partly so my children would be growing up in a safe environment:
Is there a difference between "safe" and "good" design? Which begs the question, what do we mean by good design?
There is a time when the community is so strong, and the impacts of humanity so small, that no design is necessary to have a safe, healthy environment. That is probably what rural living is all about. It's not just that the houses are far apart. It's that people have a surplus of freedom, so their natural inclination is to be friendly in public. There are so few people, you have to be nice to strangers.
When populations get dense, trouble brews, and you have to be more careful. You have to design your physical environment to minimize opportunities for trouble. When does a community cross that line? When do they know they have crossed the line? Is there a way to go back?
On Being a Planner
I've worked at a lot of scales; when you build, you work at 1:1 scale. During schematic design, we often work at 1/16th scale, which is really 1:192. Shop drawings are done at 1:4 or even 1:2.
Urban planning is done at 1:90,000. Now that's a scale.
But the truth of the matter is, once one knows how design is a matter of collecting, organizing, and then synthesizing knowledge, the planning process is not so distant from the shop drawing process. The sensory input is different: we're no longer interested in the tactile, or the resolution of structural stresses, or the watertightness of a flashing system. Rather, we are interested in populations, their interactions, their selfish decisions compounded by sheer numbers of them. We start to concern ourselves with sense of place, with those places being of the neighborhood, or community, or even the region.
And as much as it may seem rude to say it, the planning profession has been wrong just as many times as the architectural design professions.
Urban planning is done at 1:90,000. Now that's a scale.
But the truth of the matter is, once one knows how design is a matter of collecting, organizing, and then synthesizing knowledge, the planning process is not so distant from the shop drawing process. The sensory input is different: we're no longer interested in the tactile, or the resolution of structural stresses, or the watertightness of a flashing system. Rather, we are interested in populations, their interactions, their selfish decisions compounded by sheer numbers of them. We start to concern ourselves with sense of place, with those places being of the neighborhood, or community, or even the region.
And as much as it may seem rude to say it, the planning profession has been wrong just as many times as the architectural design professions.
Friday, November 4, 2011
The culture bar
We had a good moment frame erection (yes, that's the proper term) today on our garage project. This is a design-build project of ours, and my wife Robyn was out there with me today, setting HSS5x5 columns ahead of the C10 beam arrival. Everything went smoothly, except for one little glitch: our concrete frost walls were a little weak, and we had a partial crack develop around one threaded anchor. We know how to fix this, and will, but what irks me is that our concrete sub poured such bad concrete. Part of this is my fault. I let him put way too much water in the mix, and I shouldn't have. But when you are on a pour with an old curmudgeon in charge, your options are limited. I had hoped we would be OK, and in the end I have to pay for the mistake by spending an hour or so correcting the cracked area.
The lesson here is that the construction culture of a region dictates the probable quality level of work one can cajole out of subs, and in this area of Maine, good concrete work is not a part of the culture. The corollary to this is, it's difficult to come from an area of really good concrete culture to an area of really bad concrete culture without getting frustrated. Is there an opportunity here? Probably.
The lesson here is that the construction culture of a region dictates the probable quality level of work one can cajole out of subs, and in this area of Maine, good concrete work is not a part of the culture. The corollary to this is, it's difficult to come from an area of really good concrete culture to an area of really bad concrete culture without getting frustrated. Is there an opportunity here? Probably.
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