For those consumed by projects and running their firms, without time to read, I've done it for you. This section summarizes the best practices shared by the interviewees. This book is about contemporizing and futureproofing two ancient professions: design and construction. The implication? We've got some work to do. If we want to be valued by our business partners, we need to change how we think and practice. Architecture and construction will always be valued services, not just indulgences for a privileged few. But only if we adapt. The following advice comes from the best experts I could find, and it's summarized to help you do just that.
“Go out on a limb. That's where the fruit is.”
– Jimmy Carter
Peters and Waterman's book In Search of Excellence offers wisdom based on extensive research. In Built to Last, Jim Collins and Scott Porras share practices of businesses that have prospered long term. This book's interviews, while a smaller sample size and not the absolute truths proposed by Peters, Waterman, Collins, and Porras, offer many insights.
“Do not fear mistakes. There are none.”
– Miles Davis
“I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it.”
– Pablo Picasso
The following questions formed the core of the interviews. [Editorial comments added in brackets.] As question sets were individually tailored to interviewees, not all were asked all questions. Some were reverse-engineered – extracted from interviews – or asked or answered by those who spoke. In closing, I added a few and grouped them. Consider them in shaping your future as a design manager.
To plot your path, maybe you should ask these questions of yourself, your firm, and your clients and partners. Imagine what you might do together if you were to agree on the answers! Even if you don't, you'll each know where others are coming from. Maybe then you'll be able to work together better. That would be okay, wouldn't it? A little dialogue?
Analysis of these questions and interview themes is revealing. Not surprisingly, in this book, the nature of design, and the challenge of managing it in conventional ways was the most frequent interview topic. It's the book's thesis. Reemphasizing customer focus almost matched it. Advocacy, activism, the need for change, and the impact of machines followed closely behind, as did leadership, knowledge sharing, and curricula change. Cultural alignment, communication and institutional change resistance, and mentoring and self-learning, collaboration, and entrepreneurial shifts were popular topics. Surprisingly, issues regarding finance, value propositions, and the perennial favorite, busting budgets, were less frequent. Issues of equity and diversity, while gaining momentum, were mentioned only a few times. Classic “architectural” concerns such as design excellence, holistic, sustainable, and transdisciplinary design, along with practice size and scale discussions, were also mentioned infrequently, and only by architects. In a mild validation of the book's fundamental issue, the concept of planning and scheduling – key ingredient of managing design – was mentioned by only a few experts, and even that was perhaps due to my prompting. Does this support the core premise that design scheduling is an afterthought?
I share the interviewees' sentiments and the themes they present. I've experienced them. In my time on both sides of the line, I admit to making plenty of mistakes. But instead of accepting the status quo, I've worked to overcome my shortcomings and get out of my comfort zone. There were good reasons for every mistake. Our culture, tradition, DNA, the nature of design, and changing market forces were, and are, reasons enough for the challenges we have faced. But we can change who we are. A hallmark of artists (and builders and owners as well) is that we are never satisfied. But making such change takes awareness, desire, and focusing on the right things. Here are a few key focus areas I have seen be effective.
Effective design management drivers are within reach. In the summary recommendations below, each assumes we're working as an owner-architect-contractor team. For reference, I've keyed them to interviewees that spoke to these issues in parentheses.
Plenty of projects start with a program area requirement of x, only to see a design deconstruct it via terraces, balconies, soffits, plazas, atria, bridges, tunnels, forms, and surfaces that couldn't have been contemplated when the program and budget were set. It may be the right design move to destack or dematerialize a box, but when you do, you must do the same to the budget and schedule. Teams must design to “common” goals and limits. Do you really think a building budgeted by a university facility planner using normal comparable costs and assumptions: (i.e. stacked floors, moderately regular shape, historical SF costs) will stand up to being spread all over campus with three times as much roof, footings and skin? (Bryson, Cheng)
That you've read this book, or parts of it, says something: you're aware of your limitations. You want to arm yourself to improve your working relationships with partners. I've provided a lot to absorb, so take what works. Skeptics might say, “We've heard it all before.” They may be right, but that doesn't alter the fact that working with designers presents challenges aplenty:
Great points. Welcome to the realities of collaboration. Here are more:
You do the math. Read the tea leaves. Smell the collaboration coffee. Get with the program or get left behind. That's the real question in managing design: What are you going to do about it?
In a 2017 article in a Fast Company e-newsletter, Michael DuTillo1 said that design leaders are characterized by four traits:
I challenge you to enlist each of these characteristics in working collaboratively to manage design.
You'll never solve all problems incumbent in the designer-contractor-owner relationship. Using the ideas offered here can help. Fail, early and often. It's how you learn. It's what defines you more than your successes. Try. Take chances. Calculated risks. You'll regret not taking them. Tailor communication strategies to reach those on other teams. You'll get a few things wrong, but that's okay. Ultimately, it's the only way to get it right.
This exposition of industry problems and attitudes begs a few last questions: What would you do if you had it your way? Do you have better ideas? If I started a project tomorrow and had the influence, here's what I'd do to set up the ideal project:
My first act would be to assemble the team. If I didn't have one I'd worked with before, I'd scour the country for the best, interview them, and conduct a simulated work session to get a feel for their style.
I would not select my team based on cost, fee, or qualifications alone. My team is going to pour their guts out working together for a long time. Why would I want to buy them like a commodity based on lowest price or only some of the criteria?
I would not select them in a design competition or imply they bring a free design to the interview. That's an abuse of their professional skills and services, and a ridiculous way to start. Not only does it mean they developed a design in isolation, without my input as a client, without getting to know me, but they most likely did it with no construction or cost input – a recipe for certain disaster.
If we truly believe it takes a team, let's not cast the die before we come together. I've done it and it's no fun. The owner falls in love with an ill-conceived design with uninformed budgets and schedules. It's risky. A design competition might work for a sculpture, a landmark or memorial, but a building is more than an object. Get your team together first and set objectives – together.
Before design starts, I'd convene my team to select a site, develop a program, set goals, and conduct a Planning Phase for predesign, programming, and project definition. This would allow us to explore options, establish protocols, and define a path to success. We would include issues or sustainability, resilience, and building and human performance as key design determinants. Pro sport leagues have training camps and preseasons, project teams should too. We'd do this as a group. Then, and only then, would we start design. We'll never get a second chance to plan.
After the planning phase, I'd restart the official design phase by conducting a week-long squatter session with all key players in the room. We'd have read a project orientation package in advance, so we could come ready to interact and add value. I'd set an agenda with these steps:
Why a squatter session or project analysis? Reconvening the team, armed with information from the planning phase, and holding them captive in an energized environment capitalizes on the contributors' synergy and expertise. With the immediate, interactive feedback from being together, great things result. After it's over, I'd send the output to the next wave as the team grows so they can join us in earnest.
I'd be transparent. To make the process fun, I'd advocate on the job learning and growth for participants through intentional project sharing, research and development. Personal and team growth would be explicit goals: sharing useful things gets rewarded, good deeds get done.
The next thing I'd do is set up a team workspace. “Facilities” facilitate. We should have a great collaboration space to work in, big enough for everyone who needs to participate – one big central room with easy access, based on Christopher Alexander's pattern “Central Room with Alcoves” in his book A Pattern Language: Towns, Buildings, Construction. To do away with the warring factions, conflicting cultures, and objectives that plague us, I'd give this room a name: “Team-ville,” “Expert-ania,” or simply “The Team Room.” It would be a conflict-resolution zone where collaboration is the rule, and where grace, mercy, and acts of kindness thrive. I've been in these settings. They work. The team prospers. Occasional dustups would be unavoidable, but we'd work them out quickly, in the room. After our day was over, I'd encourage us all to go home to our families and friends to find balance.
This space would create the atmosphere professionals thrive in – as excited to come to work as a child on Christmas morning. I'd do away with the demoralizing, adversarial ways that infect many projects. In that room, I'd set the schedule and budget with input from my expert consultants: enough time and money to do the kind of project we all want, one that will serve as a great place to work for years.
In projects set up that way the team's energy is obvious. They have a smile on their face. Like in a football game, the team that “believes” has a quickness in their step as they break the huddle. They've got “momentum.” They charge to the line of scrimmage visibly eager. They feel the team dynamic. Setting that atmosphere is the owner's responsibility. They set the rules of the game. Owners who set adversarial rules waste money on their so-called teams.
The team room would be outfitted with technology, infrastructure, and screens (what we used to call the BIM room or BIG room) to connect remote teammates so they feel like they're “in the room.”
On a recent major project, we co-located onsite in huge modular trailers. Each traditional team member was housed in their own: “the architect trailer,” “the owner trailer,” “the contractor trailer,” and “the subcontractor's trailers.” It saved travel time, but the continued territorial divides did little to bring us together. The cultures within each building remained separate.
As the owner, I'd state my architectural objectives, something like the work of Norman Foster: thoughtful, sophisticated, orderly, integrated, and of the machine age, with regular geometries, and richly detailed proportions and materials to last for the ages. I'd promote a design philosophy tailored to the project's, mine, and our objectives rather than anyone's singular agenda.
If I was under pressure by my board of directors to design and build super-fast or cheap, or both, I'd still do the same thing – bring the team in, and with these additional team objectives, derive a budget, schedule, and concept that achieves them. We wouldn't work separately in opposition.
I'd spend time on programming and pay for its development. We'd establish performance criteria for all building systems. I'd leave some things open ended to allow exploring options and new ideas. I'd pay my team to explore, because it's my job to tell them what I want. I'd be smarter with their input and would update the program in process, because things change.
As an owner demonstrating leadership, I'd bring “program-developed” protocols, guidelines, and processes to bear, derived from project feedback. I'd have decision-making discipline using logs and templates. We'd record everything that happened automatically, so we could talk, interact, and work without having to stop, politic, write letters, posture, compile RFIs, cause friction, and perpetuate bad processes. I was part of a recent project that agreed meeting face to face was the equivalent of giving legal notice. It worked because it shifted the team's focus to getting things done, not writing letters and covering fannies.
If I was to cast characters in this project play, I'd choose Tom Hanks to be the lead architect. He's smart, affable, and leader enough to create the kind of team it takes to pull great things from all of us. He's got a great sense of humor too. That helps. I'd cast Robin Wright as a team member. She's an example of a smart, strong leader. (Hopefully, she wouldn't play the manipulator role as she does in HBO's House of Cards.) She'd probably demand to play the owner. In the old-school adversarial days, Ernest Borgnine would've been cast as the contractor. In our new vision, Denzel Washington would be better. His even-tempered, empathic listening style would keep us all on track. If I couldn't afford this cast, I'd still make sure my team had these leadership qualities. That's my idealistic process for setting up right to manage design of a great project. Idealism aside, this list presents strategies for kicking off a project the right way.
“We want the Big Ten championship and we're gonna win it as a team. They can throw out all those great backs, and great quarterbacks, and great defensive players, throughout the country and in this conference, but there's gonna be one team that's gonna play solely as a team. No man is more important than the team. No coach is more important than the team. The team, the team, the team, and if we think that way, all of us, everything that you do, you take into consideration what effect does it have on my team? Because you can go into professional football, you can go anywhere you want to play after you leave here. You will never play for a team again.
If you've read this book, your challenge is to take action. Do something! Use the wisdom offered by these experts. They've made the mistakes. Their life lessons provide strategies to a better future. Use their advice to make long-term change. Use the Project Design Controls framework – the parts that make sense for you. This book has exposed you to a range of outlooks. In the end, there's only one way to manage design: work as a team. Find an ally who shores up your deficiencies. Or let the lone genius of one individual rise to the fore and let the team carry their breakthrough idea over the finish line. Maybe both at the right times. That's for you to decide. You're the leader. The book passes the “baton” to you.
If we can each can do these small things, we just might make it. I believe we can!
When you're working in teams, individualism is for losers and loners. It's not fun. And it's not as powerful or productive as being a part of a team. If you've ever had a good team experience, you know what I mean. Every team needs a leader – a coach. One who had great influence on me was the legendary coach of the University of Michigan football team, the late Glenn “Bo” Schembechler.2 He led Michigan's team from 1969 through 1989. In a timeless talk before the 1983 Ohio State game, he delivered a memorable oratory. Even if you're not a sports fan, or you're not a fan of Michigan, his comments apply:
You'll play for a contract. You'll play for this. You'll play for that. You'll play for everything except the team and think what a great thing it is to be a part of something that is, the team. We're gonna win it. We're gonna win the championship again because we're gonna play as team, better than anybody else in this conference, we're gonna play together as a team. We're gonna believe in each other, we're not gonna criticize each other, we're not gonna talk about each other, we're gonna encourage each other. And when we play as a team, when the old season is over, you and I know, it's gonna be Michigan again. Michigan.”
If you've made it this far, I ask one thing. In your part as a team member and manager of design, no matter your role, do everything in your power to make it be a team. A team. A team. A team. You'll remember the experience for a long time.
So will “they.”