A Tale of Two Architects - Part 1

This is a parable, a tale of a struggle and resolution in three parts, a tale that’s emblematic in the lives of many architects. It’s at the heart of what architects have been doing for at least eight thousand years, a story of opportunities and obstacles, of both feeling and thinking their ways to great solutions, and, with persistence and luck, catching the gossamer threads of architectural insight and wisdom.  

Scene 1:  The Predicament

Enter two very accomplished architects in their thirties. They’re in a terrible fix. While these partners are well-known as very talented and completely reliable, this time they’re facing frustration and deep worry. Not only that, their demoralization has spread to their staff. After all, this is the biggest project they’ve ever won. They’ve been struggling for months, nearly getting there, knowing in their bones that the solution is close, but it’s just not singing. Something is missing or, perhaps, it may just be a bad idea. They fear they’re living a Greek tragedy.

It’s not from lack of effort or absence of ideas. They have plenty of both. It’s also not from fear of taking design risks or experimenting. In fact, they’ve hammered away as hard as they can, drawing on all their projects, on precedent, on theory. No luck.

They’ve tapped and tapped-out all the usual strategies, particularly the venerable proportional systems like the famous Golden Ratio, but those haven’t done the trick either. A good night’s sleep is a dim memory for these two, but, unbeknownst to them, help is on the way in a form they could not possibly imagine. In the meantime…

Scene 2:  Run Away?

Escaping the office one hot afternoon, our heroes are somber and silent at their favorite café. It sits at the base of a majestic hill. The sky is a perfect blue, but they couldn’t be less interested. Things at the office are bumpy, in spite of their strong partnership. The design of their biggest project just won’t settle down. Once competitors, the two are now colleagues, a powerful alliance of opposites that has gone so well it surprises everybody, including them. They just did it to get bigger jobs, but this one, this puzzle that evades solution, may be their downfall. Architectural reputations are a delicate thing.

And more, it’s also the most prestigious commission I+K Architects have ever won. It’s a very big deal: it has to be beautiful; it has to have magic; and, beyond that, it has to feel and be eternal and transcendent as much as anything ever built before. And the community is very hungry for it to see what they’ve come up with. No wonder they’re drinking. They know the answer isn’t at the bottom of their glasses. It lives far higher and, right now, beyond their grasp.

Our heroes have practiced for decades just down the street from that craggy hill. Their loyal staff back at the office is waiting, which is nothing new with these bosses, but this time it’s different. As always, they’re more than ready. They’ve studied and mapped well beyond the new building, because the job is actually the whole site where it will be placed. They also know it’s a tough job. When it’s built and the community arrives for their first look, the whole place has to be a seamless ensemble, connected by some kind of architectural choreography. Will their bosses come through with the solution? For the first time in the office, they’re worried.

Scene 3:  The Client

Now, they’re on their second bottle of wine, and it’s not helping in the least. Their client is impatient and pushing hard: “Your fees are too high. You’re taking too long. You know, there are other architects who charge less.” It’s an old story of professional vulnerability.

This client is a man who likes power and has earned it. Everything he touches succeeds. He has an air of indisputable entitlement and an aura of authority. In truth, he has no equal in the city. 

From the viewpoint of this client (and he’s not alone), architects have always been a pain, but an unavoidable necessity. He’s been secretly interviewing other architects. Still, there’s a whisper inside his head, from somewhere deep in his instincts, that he should stick with these two. He’s spent his life learning to trust his gut and he doesn’t want to stop now.

There’s also the money that’s at stake here.  He’s put in some of his own, but, like other smart clients, leveraged the rest with loans from the community. But it’s more than the money being staked on this project. He’s supremely aware that this project may be his greatest legacy.

But it’s not so simple. In reality, they have more than one person to deal with. There are 200,000 other “stakeholders” who are the strong, but not the silent type. And that’s not all: there are historic preservationists, quite vocal ones, who don’t want the site touched at all, just because of a couple of old buildings there. It’s only the power and prestige and the ego of their client, the most powerful person in town, that can usually push aside any objection, in this case making space for a design that might feel quite different.

And there’s still more: powerful architecture critics who have to be consulted with as a matter of political necessity. Our heroes’ client will need good reviews from them. Ultimately, no surprise: they’re not in the least helpful, but they’re also not unified enough to determine the ultimate design’s fate.

All of this just adds to their client’s impatience, but I+K has a lot of experience dealing with important people. They’ve learned to manage this relationship without subservience or toadying. They know architects can only be effective when they maintain the right stance: upright. After all, they are architects, standard bearers for the meaning of their profession. Architekton: “arkhi,” meaning the first, the one who commands, the chief; and “tekton,” the builder. So, who’s the “decider,” them or their client? That tension, often a conflict, was already old news way back when Imhotep was working for the Pharoah on the Saqqara Temple.

The next installment of this tale will arrive soon.

Milton