Screenshot from SCI-Arc's panel on "How to be in an Office" via Youtube

At one point during the recent SCI-Arc panel discussion, “How to be in an office,” students were presented with a choice. They were presented, on one hand, Design Firms, and on the other hand, Corporate Firms. The ensuing discussion went on to describe the choice as inspiration and passion vs. a paycheck. 

It’s not an either/or proposition. That’s a myth.

On the wall of my undergraduate thesis studio was a bright orange poster of faculty projects around Los Angeles. The April Greiman poster showing the work of SCI-Arc faculty pulled me to the west coast. It captured a sense of experimentation and situated this city as a testing ground for new ideas.

Arriving in LA in 1993 as a recent grad was not ideal, landing during a recession. I had to find a job, and it had to pay. I had a few offers to work for free, where I was told such work would further my career. Ultimately, from a few viable offers, I chose to work at a small firm with Ted Osborn, who had worked with Walter Gropius at The Architects Collaborative in Cambridge, come to LA, and bought a small firm whose proprietor had passed away. 

There was no irony in the fact that Ted was raised in a firm with ‘Collaborative’ in the name. He was a shrewd businessman, a clever designer, and incredibly detail-oriented. However, his most amazing quality was the pride he took in the accomplishments of others. He would outdo himself on a daily basis, finding ways to make others around him look good. 

I left Osborn in 1996 to attend SCI-Arc, finally fulfilling the dream of going to the architecture school in a westside warehouse. Everything about the culture of SCI-Arc was anti-conventional. It sought to do things differently. As someone contemplating a career as an architect, it was an open and provocative place inspiring us to carefully critique our choices with the understanding that a designer is responsible for designing both one’s career and one’s projects. 

During my time at SCI-Arc, Hedge Design Collective was formed. Hedge was a new, innovative model of practice where independently practicing individuals (recent graduates) operated as a supportive network for each other as needed. The model offered them the opportunity to craft their own vision and quickly establish a substantial presence for potential clients. They were the pride of SCI-Arc, even operating out of the school for a brief period. The buzz around them was that they had somehow delivered on the promise of the institute. They were proof that it worked, that SCI-Arc and it’s students were continually reinventing practice.

Fast forward to 2006. I was now teaching at SCI-Arc and I remember a conversation with an administrator. I expressed joy that a student we both knew had just accepted a position at one of the larger firms in the city. The response I received was that this was not what SCI-Arc students do. SCI-Arc students go and make their own firms or do competitions with professors. But there were large firms that were doing good work. I grew up working for a guy who had an architecture degree, an MBA, and some Bauhaus pedigree. I learned a lot. He knew how to invest in making a firm, thinking about longevity, mentorship, and growth, about hiring not just for a project but for an enduring practice. 

I grew up working for a guy who had an architecture degree, an MBA, and some Bauhaus pedigree. I learned a lot. He knew how to invest in making a firm, thinking about longevity, mentorship, and growth, about hiring not just for a project but for an enduring practice.

The SCI-Arc panel discussion has certainly sparked much discussion in the profession and, more broadly, about the history of architecture’s hero-worship culture and the abuses that can happen in such conditions. Others have covered that. However, I was moved to write due to another aspect of the conversation. 

It’s a myth.

The idea that practice is a choice between two distinct camps is an imprecise generalization ignoring the diversity of contemporary practice. I’ve worked at a few other places, likely falling into the characterization of a design firm, and I started my own firm after winning a competition. Later, I had an opportunity to return to Osborn (now NAC Architecture) as a Design Principal. It was a chance to do what I loved but at a larger scale. That was in 2000, and I have spent the last 22 years working to collectively build something radical. 

Our firm was more ‘boutique’ when I started there in 1993. In the interest of taking on more meaningful work and more impactful projects, we’ve evolved. We’ve grown up. We try to run a sustainable practice that is a business. And we push design, we iterate, we conduct research, we have conceptual rigor. I’ve had a few arguments along the way with those who, sometimes I felt, were making us more ‘corporate.’ This whole affair at SCI-Arc made me realize how hard it has been to break myself of these tired ideals in my own practice. 

Corporate comes from the word corporatus, to form into a body. To take independent parts and aggregate them into a functioning whole is a provocative thought. In my current role, I tell our team that the goal is to create a culture of pluralistic authorship. While most firms thought of as innovative have a single charismatic leader, isn’t it at least as radical to envision a collective practice that doesn’t relent on being original and inventive? 

It’s not easy, and perhaps that’s why it’s hard to locate and easy to dismiss. Our work comes out of a collective process vs. a singular voice. But this divide has been created in order to carve out room for folly and design pursuits that do not survive the scrutiny of practicality or profitability. The term profitability makes some cringe, but profitability fuels innovation. We need to be able to invest in ourselves. 

Perhaps, we need to print up t-shirts with the word ‘CORPORATE’ on them, perhaps in an overly ornate script as a way to resuscitate this word which has been so corrupted. Is it possible to craft an architectural practice that is cohesive, compelling, and relevant but not driven by ego or a singular internal mindset? It absolutely is. It is possible to do both, to be a design atelier and to prioritize an environment that sustains people and itself. When the organization stops existing to do great things and only exists to feed itself, then we have a problem. The idea, however, that there is a binary choice between working situations is nonsense. 

If we look around the city today, we need to do great things. The challenges facing our city, our environment, and our neighbors are challenges to architects. They are complex, and they likely will be addressed through big, messy collaborations that incorporate diverse voices. Revisiting the Hedge model has led me to appreciate it not as a bold move of individual egos, but rather as a recognition that what they wanted to accomplish required a broader collective. 

Now more than ever, we need to recognize the practices that have aligned design, relationships, and an infrastructure of diverse services and an expansive mindset. Whether those practices have grown it in-house or developed a network of collaborators, the ability to let the definitions of projects expand beyond their siloed boundaries is essential. We are in an urban ecosystem that has more connections and interrelationships than ever before. This is a fascinating territory. We can be the think tank for the built environment if we can scale our aspirations as needed.

I learned this at SCI-Arc. One of the most impactful lectures I attended was by the Dutch architect, Rients Dijkstra.  During his lecture, he took a break from the slides to introduce concepts via an overhead projector. He then spent considerable time diagramming the bureaucracies of Utrecht and describing the importance of situating a design agenda within the relevant political context. He presented a thesis about the formation of his practice, Maxwan, as an agency in response to a complex set of relationships and agendas.

We need a new movement in architecture, one that sees architecture as a political act in the sense that it engages the city and its people. There is commitment in that. 

Those houses on that orange SCI-Arc poster still inspire me. It reminds me of the courage demonstrated to put their livelihood on the line to make things. I admire those that commit to ideas and to production. As time has gone by and as the city has grown, the fertile territories for innovation have multiplied. Commitment in various forms that defy conventional observation has proliferated. The academy and the ‘boutique ateliers’ (to use terms from the panel discussion) do not hold an exclusive title to commitment. 

I have seen many suggesting that if anyone is going to rethink practice in the wake of this conversation, it will be SCI-Arc. As an alum, how great it is to think that it would be this institution with its history that would engage in these very real issues with very real consequences. However, before anyone jumps in with a savior mentality, let’s look around. Better yet, let’s not wait for anyone else to do it. I am inspired every day by the work going on around me in this city. If we look closer, we will find that there is tremendous commitment leading to innovation in ways that are more diverse than might be assumed. 

Let’s take the time to develop techniques for discussing the conceptual, intellectual, and methodological merits of a broader array of work. We’re ready for a movement that synchronizes the research and investigations of academia and the ways in which practice has evolved in response to a changing world. 

I said earlier that it’s not an either/or proposition. If we can shift to a both/and mentality, maybe there is hope for an inclusive vision of our profession with the potential to meet the challenges ahead.