Life of an Architect

• Ep 171: The IQ of an Architect

  Being an Architect is difficult and there is plenty of evidence that this is not a vocation that is suitable for everyone. The coursework you will take in college is all over the place – from the drawing and design classes to physics and upper level math requirements, you seem to have to be both an artist and a scientist to go down this path. This begs the question, Just how smart do you need to be in order to become an architect? Welcome to Episode 171: The IQ of an Architect [Note: If you are reading this via email, click here to access the on-site audio player]  Today Andrew and I are going to be talking about intelligence quotient and architects. This was a topic that I tackled with the 3rd blog post I ever wrote (titled IQ's and Jobs), and for years, it was a foundational blog post in the development of my website because so many people read that article. I just checked and it currently has 92 comments, and almost amusingly, there are some angry people out there and they are vocalizing their discontent. When I was younger, probably between the ages of 8 and 12, I bet I took 20 of them. My mother was a school teacher and all of her schoolteacher friends Would use me and my sisters as practice subjects as they were pursuing diagnostician licenses. I am going to confess right now that this is a nerdy episode because there is a lot of data that needs to be presented and digested in order for us to have a fruitful conversation. The History jump to 8:21 The origins of the IQ test can be traced back to early-20th-century France. In 1904, the French Ministry of Education commissioned psychologist Alfred Binet and his colleague Théodore Simon to develop a method to identify children who required special educational assistance. The result was the first practical intelligence test, known as the Binet-Simon Scale (published in 1905). The French government needed a systematic way to distinguish students whose learning challenges were not being met in the regular classroom. The aim was to provide extra support, not to label them pejoratively or permanently, but to help tailor education to their needs. Binet and Simon introduced the concept of a “mental age.” The test included a series of tasks grouped by age level (e.g., tasks that an average 7-year-old could handle, an average 8-year-old could handle, etc.). A child’s performance on age-relevant tasks indicated their “mental age”—a reflection of cognitive performance relative to age-based norms. Memory: Recalling digits or sentences Problem-Solving: Completing puzzles or analogies Verbal Skills: Defining words, understanding analogies Attention & Comprehension: Following instructions, basic reasoning The tasks grew progressively more complex. If a child could perform the tasks that most 8-year-olds could but not those of a typical 9-year-old, the test would assign that child a “mental age” of 8. Although Binet did not explicitly define IQ as a single number, the later concept of IQ was directly inspired by the idea of mental age. Psychologist William Stern (1912) introduced the term Intelligenzquotient (Intelligence Quotient) as a ratio. Not long after Binet and Simon released their scale, Lewis Terman at Stanford University adapted and expanded their test. The resulting Stanford-Binet Intelligence Scales (first published in 1916) formalized the IQ concept for the English-speaking world and continued to refine “mental age” benchmarks. Terman’s goal was to make Binet’s test more suitable for the American population by adjusting questions, norms, and scoring based on data from U.S. schoolchildren. He also introduced the now-familiar numeric scale with an average (mean) of 100 and a set standard deviation—initially, each standard deviation was 15–16 IQ points. Terman’s (Circa 1916) Stanford-Binet Categories Although the exact cutoff points and names varied slightly in different editions,

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• Ep 170: Architecture School versus the Real World

  There is a moment of realization that occurs when you get your first real job in an architectural office that maybe architecture school and what is now going to be expected from you are a little out of phase with one another. Are you prepared, do the differences matter, and what happens when you come to the conclusion that your job and almost everything you have experienced so far based on your time in college, seem so different. Have you made a terrible mistake, or are things about to get amazing? Welcome to Episode 170: Studio versus Real Life. [Note: If you are reading this via email, click here to access the on-site audio player]  Today we are going to be talking about the differences between the studio experience of architecture students versus the realities of an actual job. There are a handful of emails that I routinely receive and in almost all cases, I would write a blog post with my normal response so that rather than rewriting my answer to the same question over and over again, I could simply point them towards the blog post on the matter. 01 The Pace is Different jump to 3:49 I’ve noticed that once you transition from school to professional practice, the pace of architectural work changes drastically. In school, you might have an entire semester to refine every last detail, but in a firm, every hour is assigned a dollar value (that might be an overly dramatic way of saying it but not entirely inaccurate). As your experience (and billing rate) grows, so do expectations for quicker, more efficient problem-solving. It can be just as cost-effective to pay a higher-rate veteran for one hour as it is to hire a newcomer for five. That dynamic pushes me to rely on my familiarity with codes, circulation, and design principles without having to look everything up or explore countless dead-ends. At professional architectural offices, this emphasis on speed is front and center. We frequently prepare proof-of-concept studies before contracts are even signed, compressing weeks of design into just a day or two. Recently, another colleague and I modeled a 160+ key hotel with retail, a parking garage, and amenities—complete with a commercial kitchen—in roughly a day and a half. Though not entirely final, it was accurate enough to move forward with confidence. This accelerated process can be stressful, but it also highlights how crucial experience is in making fast, informed decisions Speed and stress are definitely considerations that mark the difference between studio and post studio work. 02 Project Typology jump to 9:24 I’ve been thinking about project typology—the kinds of buildings we design in school versus the kinds we actually end up designing in the real world. In my own college experience, I worked on three or four museum projects, but I’ve never once designed a museum in my professional career. Instead, everyday architecture often involves far less glamorous work, yet someone has to design them, and that’s where many of us find ourselves in practice. It doesn’t mean there’s no pride in such work; in fact, the hotel project I’m involved with now is shaping up beautifully, with plenty of room for creativity and thoughtful design moves. I can't remember who said it, but "There are no bad projects, just bad architects" comes to mind. Still, there’s an undeniable difference between the conceptual exercises we tackle in school and the real-world projects we take on later. My theory is that academic assignments are intentionally fantastical (i.e. ridiculous) because professors want to teach you how to think rather than lean on preconceived notions. In school, you might end up designing an environment that is specific for traveling poets and butterfly researchers—something so unusual that you can’t rely on a pre-baked solution you might be bringing to the table. During our discussion, Andrew makes a fair point by suggesting that projects like museums and interpretive centers also h...

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• Ep 169: Architecture Studio

  The act of creating architecture is a fairly unique process and the manner in which you learn how to think both creatively and technically is a skill that requires certain training and nurturing to develop. When young and eager architects in training head off to college, this development will take place in the architecture studio. This is a topic that – shockingly - we haven’t pointedly discussed on the podcast before and today, that is going to change. Welcome to Episode 169: Architecture Studio [Note: If you are reading this via email, click here to access the on-site audio player]  I’m excited to dive into a conversation that centers on the architecture studio—a pivotal experience in any architecture student’s life. I get a lot of questions about how studio differs from traditional classes like structures or history, and how it transitions into the real world of practice. In the upcoming discussion, Andrew and I will explore how studio life shapes a student’s creative mindset, sets the tone for collaboration (and sometimes competition), and can either inspire a lifelong passion or push someone to walk away entirely. Drawing on my own experiences and numerous inquiries I’ve received over the years, I want to shine a light on the essential lessons and challenges that make studio the heart of an architect’s education—and, ultimately, guide how we thrive once we leave the academic environment. All-Nighters jump to 04:26 When we started discussing the concept of all-nighters in architecture school, I was reminded of just how universal that experience is - or at least was when we were in college. Whether you’re pulling your very first late night as a new architecture student, or reminiscing about it decades later, the all-nighter stands out as singularly stupid rite of passage—one that I believe can (and should) be avoided. Not because I don’t value hard work, but because I don’t think anyone produces their best ideas at 3:00 am, most likely just a continuing marathon session in the studio that started hours previously. Time management, especially for younger students, is often a serious challenge. We’re learning how to generate designs, how to collaborate, and how to gauge how long things will take. That last part trips up almost everyone (but to be fair, this is something that takes YEARS to get a grip on...) Still, part of the appeal—and the chaos—of studio is that it’s a highly social place. I remember plenty of late nights where conversation drifted from design critiques to philosophical debates about architecture and back again. Those interactions were frequently more illuminating than formal lectures, because there’s an energy in a room full of tired, passionate, slightly delirious architecture students. Unfortunately, that reality today is different. Technology has enabled students to work wherever they want, which is more convenient, but it also fragments the collaborative spirit that was once a hallmark of studio culture. While I have never been on the all-nighter bandwagon, I feel like there is something missing when students pack up their tools (or in most cases, fold their computers closed) and retreat to their dorms and apartments to complete their assignments Last Minute Changes jump to 13:05 I strongly believe that last-minute changes often create “negative work”- which is effort that doesn’t actually help you finish your project. It’s tempting to keep designing if that’s your passion, but in school (and in the professional world), you need to set realistic deadlines and work backward to decide how much time to devote to each phase. If you don’t leave enough time for making models or preparing drawings, you’ll end up with amazing ideas that you can’t effectively present. I’ve seen students come to critiques with almost nothing pinned up, talking about what they intended to do, and as someone sitting there looking at your finger pointing at some scribbles telling me what you were going to do,

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• Ep 168: Architectural Career – Is It Worth It

  Building upon our last episode when we discussed the path we have taken to get where we are, how unpredictable and in some cases, how circuitous that path can take, what we didn’t really talk about was if the journey was what we wanted. It’s all fine and dandy to look back and make lemonade from lemons, but now that we are decades into our careers as architect, there is another question we want to ask … Episode 168: Architectural Career – Is It Worth It? [Note: If you are reading this via email, click here to access the on-site audio player]  I am going to start by defining, at least or me, what “it” might mean to help shape this conversation. It starts right out of the gate with quality of life – which I would presume is the case for most people. I don’t need to be rich and I have been fortunate enough that money for the most part does not influence the decisions I’ve made in my life. The most important thing for me is that I want to be a part of something. I want what I do to matter – which admittedly, “who it matters to” can and has changed. Some things I do matter to me, but as I’ve aged in my career, making things better for other people has worked its way into my motivation. When your activities have an impact on others, there is validation that occurs of your decisions, and your behavior. I do want to address the money consideration for a minute. I said it doesn’t influence me, but that’s really because I make a pretty decent living. I don’t care what other people doing other jobs make – good for them. Money simply represents freedom to make certain decisions and to present options. http://lifeofanarchitect.com/golden-handcuffs-a-lesson-learned/ For those of you who might be new here, or just stumbled on to this article, I shared the post I wrote a long time ago about “Golden Handcuffs” and an experience I had at the beginning of my career (when I wasn’t actually making very much money) where I learned the lesson that money does not bring fulfillment and if you can learn what you need to exist, you can stop the process of chasing a paycheck and focus on being the best version of yourself … which will typically bring with it that larger paycheck. Now that some baselines are in place, let’s get into the first section ... The Realities of the Architectural Dream jump to 10:19 When I look back on my career in architecture, I remember how I started out with some enthusiasm. I was convinced I would spend my days doing creative work, designing amazing spaces, and leaving my mark on the world. Now, over three decades later, I can see how that vision of my career evolved in ways I never predicted. The essence of that passion is still there—I love what I do—but the daily realities are far more nuanced than what I imagined as a student. Architecture turned out to be about more than just design; it involves project management, mentorship, business considerations, and sometimes grappling with budgets and fees that don’t always reflect the effort we put in. Despite these challenges, I still believe it’s worth it. One topic I’ve discussed a lot with Andrew, and with the mentees in my firm, is how the “dream” compares to the “reality.” In architecture school, we’re immersed in design theory and creative exercises; it’s easy to believe that’s your entire future. But then you join a firm, and someone hands you a stack of construction documents or code research spreadsheets. It can feel jarring—I’ve seen many young professionals struggle with the gap between what they thought they’d do and what they actually end up doing. At the same time, that early shock is often what expands your skill set the most. As you handle real-world challenges, your perspective grows, and you start to see the broader impact of architecture beyond just the initial creative spark. Part of the dream is also about the work having meaning beyond yourself. Architects generally don’t go into this field to make big money; if you truly wanted that,

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• Ep 167: How Did We Get Here?

  It is the start of a New Year, everything still smells fresh and most things looking forward are theoretically in place for an amazing year … at least I think so. Since it is first podcast episode of 2025, today’s conversation is more of an introspective look into a career and just how bad or good things have gone over the last 30+ years. While this is not a look into my own personal diary, it should provide you with a framework when you decide to look at whatever it is you’ve got going on as well. Welcome to Episode 167: How Did We Get Here? [Note: If you are reading this via email, click here to access the on-site audio player] I have a guest on today’s episode as my typical co-host Andrew Hawkins, who was supposed to be in Japan during the time we needed to record, fell sick enough that he had to cancel this trip and is currently recovering at home. To that end, I have another good friend of mine sitting in to play point/counterpoint in today’s conversation. I have asked friend, neighbor, and just like me, a Principal and Senior Project Designer at BOKA Powell, and 3-time participant on the podcast Lane Acree to sit in and hopefully not point out just how dumb I am. Given today’s topic, I thought it would be interesting to see how two people who didn’t even know each other a few years ago both ended up in the same place, despite the reasons behind the journey being completely different. Bob Borson one fateful Christmas morning ... The Beginning jump to 05:06 When I reflect on how I got started in architecture, it all goes back to the moment my dad gave me a drawing table at age five. From that day on, I knew I wanted to be an architect (he might have been angling for engineer but that's on him for not being more specific). I never questioned whether I would go to college—it was a given in my house—but I did face doubts that the profession that I had decided on might not be the right fit for me once I actually started my freshman year. I wasn’t as driven as my classmates, and I began to worry that I wasn’t cut out for architecture after all. Looking back, it wasn’t that I lacked ability; I just wasn’t putting in the same level of commitment. My parents had been strict, so when I got to Austin, I had all this freedom and indulged in everything the city had to offer. Eventually, I hit crisis point at the end of my freshman year and and took a year off from design studio during my sophomore year. I continued my other classes, but I needed that break to figure out what I truly wanted. When my junior year began, something clicked. I realized I wasn’t actually bad at design—I just needed to put in the work. That realization changed everything. It was a lesson in prioritizing my goals, a skill that still matters to me to this day. Meanwhile, Lane took a different path. He discovered architecture at a young age—around sixth grade—when he witnessed the process of designing his family’s home with a draftsman. From that point on, he immersed himself in art classes and drafting throughout high school and then once in college, he ended up landing a job at a small architecture office where he spent every summer and holiday break. That real-world experience gave him a big advantage over classmates who never set foot in a firm until after graduation. I find Lane’s background intriguing because he gravitated towards the use of computers, even when some of his professors believed technology stifled creativity. He taught himself tools like 3D Studio Max and came out of school with cutting-edge skills at a time when most people were still using the drafting board. By contrast, we didn't even have the option to use computer software while I was in college (despite only being only 10 years older than Lane). My focus was never on starting my own firm ... I just had 3 goals for myself once I graduated. I wanted to make a good living (which meant a yearly salary of $100,000), see one of my buildings get published in a history book,...

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