My daughter recently turned three, which is an optimistic way of saying that, until recently, my daughter was two. One of the primary Toddler Principles is Limited Choice. Never ask, “What would you like to wear?” lest you get orange sparkles and red stripes, with Barney shoes. Instead, ask, “Which do you want, the red pants or the black pants?”
Readers of AIArchitect, the weekly e-newsletter from headquarters, have enjoyed, over the course of the last several weeks, a series of questionnaires constructed on a similar principle. Here’s an example:
In your opinion, what is society’s perception of the greatest contribution the AIA could make?
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- A source of trends in design and construction
- Commitment to higher standards of professionalism
- Responsiveness to client and public needs
Presumably, Limited Choice is invoked here as a way to manage the responses of many, many readers. But it also weeds out other points of view. What about, for example,
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- Advocate for the design of better buildings
Is that so outlandish? I don’t think so, but our organization may. Consider this doozy from the May 12 AIArchitect, in which reader responses were tallied:
From your perspective as an architect, what do you most need to know to become successful?
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- Practice/project management—34 [% of respondents]
- Design—9
- Construction technology—13
- Leadership—16
- Business skills—28
Imagine a poll by the AMA in which only 9% of doctors chose “Healing.” It would be a scandal.
The question is not, of course, as simple as the format suggests. The respondent is asked, implicitly, to answer at least two other questions: “What counts as a successful practice?” and “What do we mean by ‘design’?” Here’s what I would mean by it: Design synthesizes the abundance of possibilities for improving and enriching the circumstances of life—physically, emotionally, and intellectually.
The wonder of architecture is its ability to synthesize a superabundance of possibilities. The best buildings are the ones that achieve the richest syntheses. Take Louis Kahn’s Exeter Library, where structure, view, elevation, scale, construction, materials, and the place of the individual in a monumental form all come together, inextricably.
Note that Kahn is remembered for possessing in [almost] exactly opposite order the skills ranked by the AIArchitect respondents. We remember Kahn for his design first, his leadership in setting aspirations second, his mastery of construction technology a close third, and his business and practice management skills a distant last.
So, what counts as a successful practice? It needn’t be an either/or question; a fully successful practice produces fine buildings and turns a modest profit. But, if push came to shove, if leaving your practice in debt (as Kahn did) were the price of having designed the Salk Institute, would you wish it the other way around? And has history judged Kahn’s practice unsuccessful?
A related point: we grouse that Americans don’t appreciate good buildings. Well, twenty years ago, Americans didn’t appreciate good beer; now, excellent India pale ales are brewed in every mid-size city in the nation. Why didn’t we appreciate good beer then, and why do we appreciate it now? We didn’t appreciate it then because most of us had never tasted one, and we appreciate it now because we have. Which is possible because some determined brewers gave us the opportunity. Maybe the way to improve Americans’ appreciation of good buildings would be to concentrate on designing some.
The AIA deserves some credit for design advocacy—the awards programs; here in California, the Monterey Design Conference. But as long as AIA polls yield 9% for design, the many who have chosen not to join the organization will continue to suspect that the AIA is not about good buildings, but about good retirement plans. Design is not the last ingredient of success; it’s the first.
Originally published 2nd quarter 2003, in arcCA 03.2, “Global Practice.”
