More signs of the times

Read this? Yeah, not that encouraging.

The reality of our profession, post-recession, is something we need to seriously consider. What is the value of any degree that leads to unemployment? Should we encourage those in the generations to come to invest their time and money if this is their future?

I was in New York this past weekend for a friend's wedding. Many of my old classmates and colleagues were there, as it was the union of two classmates that we were celebrating. And as I caught up with them, it became more and more obvious that the realities of the article - of architects leaving the profession by choice or not - was becoming the norm. Of my friends, at least half of them were now in "alternative" careers - they were related to design, in some way, but definitely outside Architecture's traditional bounds.

It makes me think, particularly as I teach, if I preach an unobtainable dream. Our profession has increasingly become a commodity,  tied to the whims and instability of fads and economies.We can never be broken from the finances that fund our work; however, without asserting that the value of what we do extends beyond luxury and excess, we will continue to be the first of professions cut when times get tough.

We face uncertain times, that much is clear. This might, however, be the best opportunity for our profession to carefully examine itself, make tough choices, and reinvent itself. If we don't, The statistics of the article will not represent a disconcerting trend, but our profession's future.

Failure

I've been dragging my feet. Procrastinating. Blaming everything and anything for why I still haven't gotten around to it. But, really, the reason is simple. I haven't tried to complete my AREs because, well, I failed the first one I took.

I'm embarrassed. I've never failed anything. I prided myself on that; in the end, I'd pull it out because I'd put in the time, the effort, to make it happen. Not this time. This time, I opened a letter and, as dramatic as it sounds, my world as I knew it disappeared.

I feel like a fraud. A phoney. I excelled at school, and yet, when I needed it most, I couldn't find success. Instead I've let a year and a half go by, ignoring the biggest elephant in the room. I know that, if I ever want to call myself an "Architect", I have to make it past this final obstacle. But, right now, I'm ready to throw in the towel.

Where do we go?

I've pondered it a lot, lately. And, I am not the only one. Head over the Archdaily to check out another perspective on the Future of Architecture.

Missed the Boat?

When the economy tanked and the profession sent into chaos, the question myself and my friends faced was not, "when will we work again", but "where we work again?" I found myself back at home, as my original plans to return to New York evaporated with the imaginary billions of Wall Street. Others I knew waited months, even almost a year, trying to find that elusive new position. And a few more, well, they didn't have a choice. They picked up and found themselves someplace new.

Reading this, today, in the NYTimes, reminded me of that time - when I was faced with options I never imagined or wanted. Our profession has been radically altered; I entered thinking that, after school, I would find a job in a reputable firm, work my way up, and one day find myself a partner, looking back on the years dedicated and the projects accomplished. Anyone reading this knows that wasn't the case. And, as the articles I have recently posted reflect, this hasn't been the case for many now coming into our fold.

I wonder if, now, "where they build" will be far away. If China, or Dubai, or India, will be the land of opportunity, experimentation, innovation. If we will find more and more of our graduates abroad because, while we continue to train plenty, we can't come up with jobs for them once they leave. I wonder if will export our best talent because, well, there isn't anything keeping them here.

I wonder, also, if I missed the boat. If I am on my current path because it was safe. I ask myself if I could, like those in the article, pick up and move - not just to a new state, but a new country. And I am freaking Chinese. Granted, I can't speak, can't read, and my cultural markers make me whiter than most, but still. It seems like, of anyone, I would be in a prime position to catch the wave of the next frontier.

Granted, it's not as though all my problems would be solved by a trip overseas. I am sure one set of problems would be traded for another. But life is dealing with problems; it just that, some problems you enjoy solving. I am still trying to figure out if the problems I have now are better than those I could have somewhere else.

You are what you...teach?

I have to admit this: sometimes I can't believe I teach. Particularly about Architecture. After all, if you scan this blog, it is a rare moment for me to speak about the virtues of the profession. Mostly, my stories are filled with the disappointment, the frustration, the harsh realities that our profession has somehow kept secret.

When I started this blog, I thought I could, through my experiences, shed some light upon certain misconceptions. I thought, perhaps, this blog could help others understand what the education asks, the profession asks, of those who enter. Basically, I hoped I could enlighten people of the things I wish I would have been informed of years ago.

But, as the years passed, I found myself on detours that took me farther away from where I thought I should be. My blog reflected this; looking back on my entries, I now realize that the questions concerning me weren't about what type of professional I might be, but whether or not I should be a part of this profession. And then, I just fell off the face of the earth.

Perhaps, from this short history, you can understand why I find myself rather dumbfounded concerning my current circumstances. I find myself in front of students, encouraging them, challenging them, to imagine the possibilities of not only their work, but their future lives as architecture professionals. And while I am forthright about my own experiences, I never discourage these fresh faces from pursuing their dreams. I find myself, surprisingly, an enabler.

I am both Jekyll and Hyde. I can be incensed about our continually changing certification requirements one second, excited about detailing a stair railing the next. I ponder whether or not I have the stamina to continue on in the profession, but undoubtedly have an opinion on any design you ask me about. I am a dissenter and an advocate.

But, as Jekyll was forced to wonder, which is my true self? Am I one who will, five years from now, be set upon some other task, some other work, which finds me looking at Architecture from afar? Or will I be, as I am now, hard at work, hoping to make something someone will love. Am I the person I see in this blog, or the person I hear speaking to my students? Right now, both seem equally likely. I wonder which will win out.

So you want to be an architect?

You may want to read this. Or maybe this.

Just mull it over for a second or two.

Overrated

I hate to say it, but sometimes -well, really, many times - I have agreed with this. Particularly in the past three years or so, as I've existed on the fringes of the professional world. So far, I've eeked by, freelancing, working for a firm on and off, and renovating. I've supplemented this all with some teaching, which at times fuels my idealistic dreams, and at other times, makes me want to warn anyone wishing to follow through that this life, this profession, isn't all it's cracked up to be.

I want to believe that what architects do has value; even on something small, like renovating a house, I believe that we, as architects, can provide insights into space planning and organization that can make something old new again. That is in large part why I tackled the renovation I did. I wanted to show people how a 1950s home could, with thought, have a floor plan that could meet with today's lifestyle. The hope was that, after the blood, sweat and tears, when the house was done, people would come through, appreciate the work, and, well, fall in love.

So far, there has been some love, but not enough. Well, enough for a sale, which is ultimately what I need to move onwards and upwards, as they say. I took a gamble, hoping that people might appreciate attention to detail, unique features and finding a home that meets today's standards within an establish, well-sought after neighborhood. The complaints have left me discouraged. For all the talk of "right-sizing", the negative comments have mostly dealt with a small master bedroom. Granted, it isn't some grand palace like you see on Cribs, with separate sitting areas and room for a trapeze, but the suite we created has a large walk-in closet, room for a queen bed, night stands and a credenza, and a master bath with dual vanities, separate shower and tub and its own toilet room. I mean, couldn't you live with this:

So, despite my hopes, I find an unreceptive audience. And it makes me wonder, as I still see developer homes selling, and the good old McMansions filling the pictures of local home magazines and TV shows. Do Architects provide value? I hope so. Do people value what Architects do? I am not so sure.

Bureaucracy, perhaps?

This article, just posted over at Good Design posits an interesting question: what is keeping so many "architects" out of architecture. I have to say, more and more, I feel apart of those who may be potentially "lost". While I have busted my but for years now, I am still quite far from being able to call myself an "architect". I have seen projects from design to construction, managed contractors, consultants, clients, detailed numerous drawings, slaved over permit sets and redlines. But, without my IDP complete, and my exams finished, the most I can ever consider myself is a designer.

I am working hard to get there. But, sometimes, things get in the way. My job gets in my way. Where as Lawyers take months off to study for the Bar, Doctors have residencies that support their studies for the Boards, we are supposed to work full time, studying whenever possible for our professional exams. And, I'll admit, it's been hard to squeeze it in. Especially when 18 hour days became my norm.

I like that someone is asking about the structure of our profession; we need to take a hard look at the status quo. Hopefully people will start to listen. If you don't click the link, you can read the article, by John Cary, below:

Perhaps it was the Legos, or watching Mike Brady belly up to his drafting board on TV. In recent months and years, the likes of President Obama, Brad Pitt, Lenny Kravitz, and numerous other public figures have divulged a love of architecture, going so far as to say they once—or still—wanted to be architects. They, like so many of us, have a romantic view of the architecture world.

It makes sense when you stop to think about it: there are few more creative, more transformative, more direct ways to literally make the world a better place. Almost nothing influences the quality of our lives more than the design of our homes, our schools, our workplaces, and our public spaces.

Architecture can enliven and inspire. Three decades ago this year, at the tender age of 21, Maya Lin, then a Yale student, captivated the nation with her minimalist design for the Vietnam Memorial. Her subsequent work has won acclaim the world over.

We need more architects like Maya Lin to lift us up. But there’s a problem: Lin is not considered an architect by the architecture profession itself. You’d think those within her chosen field would at least embrace Lin as an architect—if not as a luminary, an innovator, or even a genius. Instead, the architecture establishment does something astounding, demeaning, and perplexing: they relegate her to the title of “intern” because she focused on making architecture, rather rites of passage.

Earning a diploma from architecture school isn't enough to be awarded the title of "architect." Graduates must also complete a multi-year internship and pass a costly seven-part exam, steps Lin skipped because she was spending her time designing. It’s a long, arduous road that many in the field are either unable or simply unwilling to travel. Shaun Donovan, the U.S. Secretary of Housing & Urban Development, who earned his architecture degree from the Harvard Graduate School of Design, isn’t an architect, nor TED Prize winner and showman Cameron Sinclair of Architecture for Humanity. Architecture school deans, firm owners, and countless others aren’t “real” architects either. These people are doing amazing, world-changing work, exactly what we want and need more architects to be doing.

In fact, more than half of architecture school graduates don’t enter the profession. Fewer still get licensed, which means that the majority of the best and brightest are held in professional limbo or exit the profession entirely. This has been the status quo for decades, and it’s time for a change. We, the public, need architecture and dignifying spaces now more than ever.

Lest you think this title stuff is just semantics, think again. The profession and the public are measurably worse off because of this issue. While diversity in architecture schools is comparable to law and other fields, architecture remains one of the most elite and homogenous professions, clinging to institutional barriers that have thwarted gender parity and diversity efforts. Massive resources are spent on bureaucracy instead of nurturing a more representative profession to serve our diverse society, and supporting architects to create better, more vibrant public spaces.

Rather than spending their energy protecting their territory and titles, what if architects and their associations focused on resolving our nation’s housing crisis, improving our schools, or generally creating more inspiring environments for people to live their best lives? With buildings now accounting for almost half of greenhouse gas emissions, we need an army of architects to go back to drawing board and create more environmentally-friendly buildings, rather than an aging few tending to the drawbridge.

I’m not arguing against professional standards, especially not for a profession charged with making sure buildings don’t fall down. Clearly, there must be ways to demonstrate one’s qualifications in architecture or any other field, and an exam is widely regarded as the most reliable way to do so.

The difference is that medical school graduates are universally recognized among their peers and by the public as doctors even before their residencies and subsequent board exams. Graduates of law schools are considered lawyers even before passing the bar. But graduates of architecture school, who have at least five to seven years of schooling, are recognized with the lowly title of “intern.” They are forced into under-compensated internships as well as warned, policed, and even fined by architect-led state licensing boards for infringing on the word “architect” in any way. Is there any wonder why architecture graduates are defecting in droves?

These inequities, when combined with the economic downturn, are pushing greater numbers of graduates out of architecture, and the profession is weaker for it. More importantly, the public is also losing out, as the creative skills of architecture graduates are channeled into an overly bureaucratic process, rather than into solving very real societal challenges.

For years, even the leaders of the high and mighty American Institute of Architects have recommended reforming and broadening the rules of becoming an architect—starting with what we call graduates. Yet year in and year out, nothing changes due to institutional resistance, protectionism, and self-preservation.

It is high time that architecture focus less on enforcement of titles and fortifying its barriers to entry, and more on creating an inclusive profession truly dedicated to the health, the safety, and the welfare of the public.

Miss Me?

I fell off the face of the earth. A black hole that seemingly took every last speck of the light that made up my days. Renovating this house has been a herculean task. Up at sunrise, working until dusk. All in the vain hope of completing this craziness.

Add to it teaching. Rewarding, yes. And an additional time suck. Nights preparing assignments and slideshows. Desk crits and reviews that interrupt the work day. Suddenly torn between two jobs, two lives, unsure if I have been able to dedicated myself to each with true conviction. That's what's been on my mind.

I am actually living the dream. One foot in academia, one foot in practice. On a good day, I tell myself, this is what I want. I like going back and forth. I like working on site and in the classroom.

But on rough day days, which seem to be a majority of them lately, I wonder if one might have to give for the other. If I commit to something, I give everything I have. But when you have two things vying for that attention, can you do each justice? Or does something give? I worry that, if I find out the answer to this, it may be because of an incident that I am unable to recover from.

I know, I come back after months with something depressing. Not necessarily how I'd like to do things, but its all I got right now. I only hope that, on the horizon, is a light that provides new inspiration.

Make it work.

During my third year of architecture school, we took several field trips to learn about materials and construction; a pre-cast concrete company, a masonry manufacturer, a steel mill, and carpentry school. We were to learn about the way things go together, get our hands dirty if at all possible. And while laying bricks are still a mystery to me, carpentry school was something of a revelation.

It was a 6 am bus ride, 45 minutes from school to, if you could believe it, and island in the middle of the Ohio river. And, in a giant warehouse, we learned to frame. Basic skills first - hammer a nail, without hitting your hand, saw a 2x4 without an electrical assistant, identify a jack vs. king stud. The several guys brought in to show us the ropes were admirably patient, given our range of aptitude. There were those who had been building sheds with their fathers as kids. And there were those that were not quite sure how hard you really needed to swing a hammer.

I was somewhere in between; I had begrudgingly followed my dad as he did minor repairs to some rental homes, mostly resenting the time it took me away from Saturday morning cartoons. I'd gotten dirty and pretty much hated it. But I knew my basic tools, and, surprising to most of my classmates, could lift heavy objects with more ease than they expected. So, sure, I was out of place; my grungiest clothes were a pair of Abercombie jeans and an Abercrombie jersey shirt. And sure, my friends had a good hearty laugh at my expense - at seeing me getting dirty and dusty. But, as we moved from basic skills towards our task of the day - in groups, frame up 4 walls, with a window or door in each and a basic vaulted roof - I found myself lost in the constant motion, activity and noise.

Maybe it was the material - wood, which I seemed to have an affinity for. Maybe it was the process - that, as a group, we were doing something together, rather than competing with one another. Maybe I just liked the idea that, despite what people thought of me, I could actually do this. Whatever, it was, I knew I liked it. I could see it - someday, I'd take time off from my amazingly successful practice to build myself a home. Be apart of it, day in and day out, so I could do it they way I wanted.

Fast forward to today. For the past three weeks I've dug in on a renovation. It's design-build, and I am putting in a lot of sweat equity. I figured, if work ain't coming to me, I'm gonna make it for myself. Given the course of my professional life, it should be no surprise that this has now come before a successful practice. But, well, we can only take the cards we get and play the best hand we can. I'll make it work.

So, after some finagling, and with the help of many, I now sit at the point of no return, with permits pulled, walls demolished, and large areas of concrete cut. In two weeks, we cleared two 30-yard dumpsters, and for everyday of those two weeks, I've been sore. What can I say? When I renovate, I go all the way.

One track mind

Hi there. It's been a long time (long time). How have you been?

I feel like I need to re-introduce myself, seeing as I've gone MIA. Remember me? I used to post regularly, occasionally making an, I'd like to hope, insightful observation. I may have even been funny from time to time. But, for quite a while, it seems, I've lost my mojo. Maybe that's life. At least, it seems, that has been mine.

My life, however, is beside the point. At least for today. I'm trying to get my groove back, you might say, and finally get down something that has been nagging me for a while.

As I mentioned here, I had the opportunity to find myself back in Studio. Observing the dramatic change in process, particularly the design tools being used, from my collegiate days was...shocking? Unnerving? Inspiring? I'm not sure, exactly. Conflicted. Yeah...maybe that's it.

As the studio progressed, thoughts about this evolution in education stayed at the back of my mind. It gnawed at me more after I read this, which, while interesting, failed to explore what I thought was the most provocative statement of the entire interview:

Prince-Ramus: It’s an architectural education issue. It’s not that I’m not hiring architects. But as someone who teaches and has a practice and has real projects, I see the skill set of people with architectural education as increasingly irrelevant, if not detrimental.

I've tried to understand this statement, reflecting on my students and my approach towards the studio. But I am still not sure what is Mr. Prince-Ramus's ultimate point. Given the context, where his comment follows a contractor who has mentioned hiring more architects for his company, I first took it to mean that architects skills have now made them increasingly production oriented. Thus, rather than leading, we have a generation adept at executing.

When I first began teaching, what struck me most was the time students now spend on a computer. Unless asked to specifically produced something by hand, everything I saw was on a screen, or a printout of something digital. It was jarring, not only because I had been a model guy, but because I found it very difficult to have discussions with the students about their process.

If anything, iterative design was the one thing drilled into me during my own studies. Try one version, then another, compare, contrast, and repeat. But, crucial to all of this, was that you could view versions simultaneously, which allowed you to make decisions based upon the relative strengths and weaknesses that you observed in the comparison.

While the students may have been doing this, it was unclear, as I spoke with them, if it was really happening. I would often have them go back to materials they showed during previous sessions, asking them for sketches or printout that seemed to be already tucked away - out of sight and out of mind. For many of the students, the design process seemed so linear - decisions made considering only direct cause and effect. Address one problem, then move on. Checklist done.

If this is what Mr. Prince-Ramus is referring to in his comments, then I heartily agree. The technological tools my students relied upon seemed to have fostered a certain simplistic attitude towards their design process. If it works on screen, it looks okay in the model, it's fine. Move on. Move down the list of things to address, and once the list is done, the project is good to go. Forget about considering the implications of decisions to things previously decided, or potential pitfalls down the line. At that moment, the decision made sense, and so the decision is made.

But, I have to say, I can't be sure if that is really Mr. Prince-Ramus's take. He has made a certain distinction between what architects are now learning and what he thinks they should be. He condemns this new architectural model that technology, like BIM, has seemed to usher, as well as what traditional model that others often deride architects for having - the "someone will make it work" attitude that many think architects have when designing. So I guess I'd like to know, what is the right way to educate future architects? Because, from where I now stand, it seems like we better figure it out soon.

You can always dream...

Yes...you too can be an architect. Isn't it inspiring?

You've got 6 months...

So, in two days, NCARB begins its vaunted 6 month rule. The short of it, every six months you should file IDP hours. Anything falling outside that 6 month block? It gets left behind.

In principle, I get it. NCARB is trying to prevent what many interns have done...wait. Wait until the last possible moment to file their experience, which, done in a rush, is probably inaccurate. After all, can you really tell me everything you've done over the course of one year? And what category it falls under, and how many hours really apply?

But, to he honest, I'm frustrated, annoyed, verging on angry that NCARB has decided to pursue IDP in this manner. Why? Well, though it is great that you want us to get in our hours in a timely and more accurate manner, the 6 month rule does not, in any substantial way, ensure that I complete IDP in a timely manner.

If NCARB can require us, as interns, to show competency in specific knowledge areas, they it should also provide a more substantial method for ensuring that we can, in fact, get that experience. For instance, I have approximately 5 times the amount of hours needed for Schematic Design. But, because of where I worked, and how they executed projects, I am far from completing Construction Document hours, though much of what I was counting for Schematic design would, if our firm was structured differently, fall under Construction Document hours. So what choice did I have? I had to leave a job that I quite good at, since I wanted to get licensed sometime within the next decade.

Effectively, the onus is on us interns to get through it. If our offices do not have the projects that can provide us the range of experience we need, then we must wait or move on. If we have been sidelined, we are supposed to demand change. Otherwise, languish, despite the 3-year limit on your NCARB number.

Look, I am not saying interns should be able to lie back and have the experience handed to them. But, if NCARB sees this as a crucial step towards educating responsible practitioners, then there should be a more rigorous framework that provide those experiences in a timely manner. To have a governing body say "you must" while simultaneously saying "figure it out" is, in my opinion, ridiculous and irresponsible.

Look, I agree with NCARB. The current education that architects receive does not prepare them for professional practice. But, if that is the assessment, then overhaul the system. Move towards the model of other professions, such as medicine. Extend the educational requirements and time frame, provide co-ops or standardized work experiences similar to medical residencies. Schedule the exams in stages after certain experiences have been complete, symbolizing competency and skill in that area. And then, after our education, if we specialize, we head to firms which do that work. But, if we wish to practice generally, we will have had the experience and exposure to graduate as Architects, not as interns.

Instead, we have those who have practiced for years, even decades, who are not licensed, but certainly skilled. And we have those who have completed their licensing exams, but are not truly prepared to operate on their own. We have a mess. Let's recognize that fact. And let's fix it.

Paid what you're worth...(again)

Nice timing. I talk about free services, and the NYTimes does an update on the On the Cheap series.

From the start, this series bothered me. Mainly because the NYTimes solicited their readers to write in their problems as potential clients and then asked designers to participate by waiving their fees. The readers got beautiful rooms that "fit within their budgets". The professionals participating? Well, supposedly publicity.

The projects required full design services from the professional participating. And, to the credit of those participating, the professionals seemed to take on the projects with zeal. Not just a 5 minute consultation, some sketches, and a sample board. They were on site, arranging furniture, ordering, coordinating, even making items for their respective clients.

Now, I know many firms write off a certain amount under marketing expenses. So, I imagine the professionals who opted in for this series saw it as such. It might be time not paid, but certainly it is magnificent exposure. But, as with any foray into a public forum, not all the articles in the series were flattering.

The professionals, in participating for free, were not only subject to the typical ups and downs of completing a project, they were now doing in under the scrutiny of the NYTimes readership. Everything laid open for others to judge. The problems that might arise between client and professional. Aired for entertainment, framed by the narration of third party. Worth the price? I wonder how many new jobs the participating firms got.

I am glad that the NYTimes included the cost of the design services performed. And the services fees weren't insignificant. Personally, I think it would have been better for the NYTimes to cover those expenses, rather than asking for professionals to donate it. After all, the NYTimes isn't some non-profit organization, publishing for free. They make money off what they write and the subjects they write about.

Paid what you're worth...(cont.)

I promised I'd follow up on my previous post. So I'll begin with a story.

Since completing the renovation projects that brought me home, I've been hunting for work. Any work. Cause, well, I gotta pay some bills. I've been up for anything. I've done some writing and editing, some graphic design, a competition, and even some consulting. Small things to get me by while I received letter after letter telling me what I already knew - no one is hiring.

So, you can imagine my excitement after getting a referral from my parents. A restaurant: it was small enough that I could do the work by myself, and seemed like a pretty clean slate, design-wise. Sure, it'd be a tight budget, but these projects always are. Besides, aren't these also the projects that launch people's careers. Small, quirky...get it out there, get some press, and I could be well on my way.

I should have seen it coming, from the second they thanked me for agreeing to do the project. Why? Well, because, this was the first thing they said to me, despite me having never met them, nor actually agreeing to do anything besides meet with them. Let's just say, somewhere along the line, there was a miscommunication. I'd learn quickly what that was.

In their initial conversation with my parents, they had discussed their dire budget. They hoped they might find a designer that might help them in light of their financial situation. You know what that means? They wanted someone who might do their work for free. Or at least, do it all up front with promise of payment at some later date. They got the impression from my parents that I'd be amenable to that.

That initial meeting was extremely awkward. They approached it as though I had fully committed to designing their project. Not knowing anything, I got drawn into the discussion, noticing that any discussion of fee was being carefully, but consciously, avoided. Only when I mentioned the need for consultants, especially for the mechanical, electrical and plumbing, did they go on about their need to "save", and perhaps I'd know people who'd understand their position and be able to help them like I was.

I left torn. The designer in me wanted to dive in - say, what the hell. I've got nothing better to do. The business man in me, the one thinking about my upcoming bills, wanted to go home, write a service proposal, and send it back to them immediately.

I spoke with some mentors, some colleagues, to get ideas. You see, my professional practice course drilled into me one mantra - never work for free. And, in principle, I agree. Doing work for free, as an intern, or as a professional, is a disservice to you and the profession. It devalues the work that we do, leaving people the impression that what we do doesn't really have any worth.

Working for a free as an intern bothers me because the firm utilizing your efforts rarely, if ever, passes those savings on to their clients. Your free labor is used to help that firm stay afloat, because they undercharged to get the job or are trying for a high profile gig, in which they through everything they have at it, even if it means exceeding the hours budgeted. Either way, it perpetuates the undervalued perception of the work we do.

Working for free as a professional - well, it becomes a more personal dilemma. After all, you as the professional, are responsible for saying yes or no. As one of my mentors reminded me, sometimes, you take on a job, pro-bono, in the hopes of achieving another outcome - publicity, portfolio building, experience in a new field. And for many of us trying to break out on our own, without the connections or backing that allows for paid commissions, doing free work might be an avenue towards recognition.

And, to be honest, there are times when I can see free design services are justified - doing work for non-profits, which use your expertise to achieve something that benefits the underserved, or a community in need. By all means, take some time to help out. But, in my particular case, I felt unmoved, despite my excitement for the project itself.

I went back and forth for a couple of weeks. I did end up doing some work for them - options for their logo, as well as four floor plan options on organizing the space. But I stopped there. And then I wrote a service contract for the services I provided, as well as a service proposal for the work they would need from me take the project forward.

At the second meeting, I showed them the work I had done. They were excited, they asked questions, they wanted to know more. And I gave them options - ideas how to move forward, the things they needed to complete before they could continue, how to finalize their budget. And then I gave them my service contract and my service proposal. They stopped being excited. They stopped asking questions. I explained to them that, if money was that tight, there were a number of things they could do themselves. The consultants they would need to find, the drawings they would need to get, the concrete items they would need to price so they could determine how much they might actually have for their interior fit out. The client only focused on "this is how much I owe you?" I told her that the rates were negotiable, and to review them and get back to me. It's been two weeks. Do you think they've called?

In the end, my gut tells me I was right to do what I did. If it had been a close friend, or family, I might have been more open to doing work upfront, without worrying about the compensation. But, if close friends or family had asked me, they'd have also been willing, hell, they'd have been adamant, to discuss the nature of my compensation, whatever that might have been. I would have done the work because, ultimately, I'd trust them to carryout their promises to me. I didn't have that feeling in this case, and so far, I've been proven correct.

Everyone has to figure out what works for them, what they ultimately decide is right for them. So I'm not going to judge, or definitely say you should or should not do work for free. I admit, I wanted that project. And for a moment, I seriously considered moving forward. I had a number of ideas floating in my head from the second I met with them. In the end, I ended up doing some work for free, as I doubt I'll ever get money for what I completed. But, though they might have a floorplan, they didn't get anything else. Those ideas, for everything from their material palette to the design of feature elements, is still locked in my head. And, even if these ideas don't get built, they are ideas that I imagined and these clients could not. So I'll save them for another time, when I think they'll be given a value equal to their worth.

Paid what you're worth...

This NYTimes article hits on something that our profession often utilizes - unpaid internships. It happens, more than we'd like to acknowledge. Pros and cons abound, and I have some thoughts about it too, which I need to get down soon. But, until then, take a read and leave your own thoughts...

Missed Connections

My experiences have so far taught me this: finding a job is a bit about your own qualifications, a bit more about luck and even more, timing. Of the three, I have only the qualifications on my side.

Like so many others, timing is against me. One day, news is positive that things will get better. The next, news is that things aren't quite what people hoped. The most optimistic news from the AIA: firms will begin hiring in earnest come mid-year. This means, if they are right, I’ve got another couple of months of resume sending ahead of me.

In the past couple of months, I've had a couple of "what if" moments...glimpsed opportunities that seemed so close to becoming real, only to evaporate like the mirages they were. The rise and fall of hope is a rollercoaster that I am not sure I want to be on. But, with no other choice, I have to ride on, figuring as long as I don't puke, I'll survive until the end.

You know the most striking thing about those mirages? They would take me to completely different places – places unrelated and previously unimagined. In fact, some might call them crazy, and I certainly, in my past, never considered them. But there they sat, like gleaming nuggets, taunting me with futures that I suddenly, very desperately, wanted to come true. In troubled times, you open yourself up to many possibilities. In my case, it's an ever-broadening and foreign landscape.

When I was younger, I believed in two things: soulmates and career paths. I like each concept because each presents a rather logical, cause-effect progression to a future. You were meant for one thing or one person. Find it, and everything else falls in place. Life falls in place.

If you’ve been a reader of this blog, you’ll notice one thing – my life has not been quite what I’ve planned. And I think, right now, it will be hard to find anything that makes me feel settled. And I’ve definitely gotten over the soulmates and career paths thing.

But, as they say, if one door closes, a window opens. So, while I try and climb to that window, I’ll now contemplate a contingency for the very real possibility that, when I get to that window, it will be shut. Not an overwhelmingly optimistic point of view, but neither it is it completely cynical. Because, when I get to that window, I might glimpse a view out that window to a world I didn’t even consider. And perhaps my contingency will provide me with a way to get there.

More on the Fall Out

Well, it's nice to know that I'm not the only one wondering about my situation. It's good that the Fall Out is getting notice, particularly outside of our profession. I already heard back from my first firm - they are not currently hiring. Surprise.

Maybe I need to set up a stand...or go back to taking out personal ads.

Architect Hotness...

I've mentioned Hollywood's obsession with architects - or at least their stereotype of architects as sexy and hot. So you can imagine what I thought of this article, sent to me by an old friend. Sure, it's an old one, but it is still relevant, particularly this line:

Unlike a painter or poet -- to which the adjective "starving" is for good reason attached -- architects are assumed to have an earning capacity that would allow them to live large on the screen.

Seeing as I have yet to experience the second half of that statement, I'll mosey on, laughing at the silver screen.

The Fall Out

Let's get straight to it: for architects, 2009 sucked. In some ways, I was lucky enough to escape the worst of it - I quit my job before a round of lay-offs let half my firm go. And, while others toiled away at finding a job, I at least kept myself busy for 90% of the past year.

However, even though my hands were busy, it's been unsettling, Why? Well, while the cuts and scrapes told me I was working, my tax returns most definitely don't. And now that the projects that brought me home are complete, I face the ever daunting task of landing a job.

At the start of this new year, I'd like to be optimistic. But, I tell ya, it isn't easy. One, prospects are, as the Archpaper article points out, not great. Two, finding myself in limbo isn't exactly what I imagined at this point in my life. Kinda easy to feel the opposite of optimistic with the baggage of last year still on my shoulders.

To be honest, my last year was pretty awesome. If I overlook the whole part of living with the parents again, or the minor detail of feeling like a little kid needing an allowance, my past year is probably be close to a life I'd want to live. I had my own schedule, I managed work where I had a lot of creative control and, more importantly, quality control. I worked regular hours. I had time to travel. I accomplished things. I lost weight.

The past year also taught me a lot: I like working with my hands, I prefer a worksite to an office, I am pretty quick on my feet. It also showed me how much I still need to learn, and eventually, master: When do I need a permit, what codes need to be met and, in particular, how to meet them and cost estimating are just a few.

The black cloud that hangs over me, despite the relative content I feel for many aspects of my current state, has a bit to do with both personal expectations and professional aspirations. For one, I never thought I'd be a closing in on the big 3_0 without a secure professional path.

The dreams of an associate track at some high-design firm died pretty much after my first round of job hunting. I'm not an idiot; I'm pragmatic enough to learn from that experience and recognize that the portfolio I have isn't one that those firms want. I personally believe in my talent, and moreover, my work ethic and intellectual abilities. But I'm not flashy nor big on self-aggrandizing statements. I'll prove myself if given the opportunity, not with my words, my look, my ego. But you need those things to cut your way to the top.

The dreams of an academic life died pretty much during graduate school, when I got continually knocked for being too practical, too immersed in the problems of the real world. And I won't deny it, nor wish to relinquish it. I understand that, for those wishing to invent the next new thing, playing to the constraints of the here and now doesn't make sense. But I'm not that person, and for me, the most interesting things about architecture involve addressing those constraints. Thinking around them is, in my humble opinion, more provocative then ignoring them for your own rules.

So where does that leave me? The aspirations I had in college have been laid to rest. I am, like so many of my friends and colleagues, looking for something after discovering what we were told to expect isn't what is, or what we want. That's disheartening. A blow, really, given the years now invested. Easy to put off optimism, isn't it?

So the fall out may be more than just economic; right now, I, like many I know, face the hard question of whether to stay or go? Do we suffer through for the hope of a better fate when things turn, or imagine, given our past experiences, a new life outside of what we know now. This fall out has caused the profession to shed numerous members; whether that is a permament statistic remains to be seen. Whether I am will be one of them is something I have to give some serious thought.