Does this hurt?

 

Years ago I had a persistent and annoying pain in my upper back. I mentioned it to my doctor, my Primary Care Physician, during a routine visit. What followed was a mind bending series of tests, including a brain scan with injected contrast, all to no avail. Finally my PCP, scratching his head, referred me to an orthopedic surgeon.

During my visit, the specialist asked me a couple of questions, beginning with “where does it hurt” and then pressed a thumb confidently into my back. “Does this hurt?” he asked. It was an unnecessary inquiry since I almost jumped off the table. “You have tendonitis. “ Elapsed time: about 30 seconds.

When I’m in a fog; faced with decisions I don’t know how to make, and feeling stuck and frustrated I remember the tendonitis incident. Then I attempt to get to the “thumb in the back” stage as quickly as possible.  Here is the sequence:

  1. Admit that I need help; that I can’t figure this on out on my own.
  2. Acknowledge that there is a specialist out there who can help me, and is prepared to help me.
  3. Work hard at finding the right person, expecting a couple of false starts.
  4. Keep notes, including honest assessments of what’s working, what’s not working, what the opportunities and challenges are, and being clear about who I’m competing with.
  5. Accept that this is a process; that it will take time, be frustrating, and will only work if I stick with it.
  6. Repeat

I hate admitting that I need help. I’m supposed to be the specialist. But the reality is that we each suffer from a special blindness when it comes to diagnosing our own illnesses. And we need help.

Who is helping you?

Architecture is a Dialogue and Jody Brown is a poet

Jody Brown is a remarkable man who happens to be an architect, and who has written his way through the horrible economic downturn that has effected so many of us. I can’t write any better than this, so won’t even try. I encourage you to visit his blog…there is a lot more there worth reading.

Here is the text of his most recent post:

If I asked you to describe what architecture is. What would you say?

Would you launch into a diatribe about space and function and economy? Would you mention light? Texture, materials? Construction? Commodity? Emotion? Is architecture about creativity? Is it about individual expression? Is it about design? Passion? Is it an art?

Maybe.

But maybe not.

When I was 21, one of my professors described architecture as a dialogue, with each individual structure lending its voice and its point of view to the overall conversation of the city. Each building is an individual expression of an artist until it’s released into the fabric of the community, then the community responds to this with another point, and a counterpoint, and a contradiction.

Individually, each architect marks his place in form, and idea.

Each architect marks his place in time.

And then the city responds, quietly.

Someone else chimes in, in built form.

And then another.

So, the dialogue continues.

.

At some point I started to imagine my buildings whispering into the ears of my future.

The Architecture Meltdown?

There has been in interesting series of essays recently ruminating on the future of the profession. The dialogue was started by Scott Timberg writing in Salon.com. It’s mostly dark and discouraging:

But for all its soaring lines and innovative solutions, architecture is exposed to the realities of the marketplace like few other fields: The surging sense of possibility that lasted through the ‘90s and the early 2000s flagged when the housing market crashed and turned the U.S. economy upside-down. Gehry, whose Walt Disney Concert Hall has become an iconic part of downtown Los Angeles and whose widespread fame led him to a gig designing jewelry for Tiffany, complained recently about the lack of work in the States and grumbled that he wishes he could move his staff to China, where there are more opportunities. Thom Mayne, the Pritzker Prize-winning architect (the field’s top prize) who has gone from one of the field’s rebels to one of its most successful, joked grimly about the need for a party for depressed architects.

Happily his post triggered one by Tom Fisher, Dean of the College of Design at Minnesota entitled Architecture for the other 99%. Fisher suggests that architecture is not vanishing, it’s changing, and I couldn’t agree more:

Along with the emergence of public-health architecture has come the realization, especially in the healthcare community, of the value of architects’ design-thinking skills when applied to the invisible, but no-less-designed world of processes, procedures, policies, and flows. Medical systems like the Mayo Clinic and the Allina Hospitals and Clinics have hired architecture graduates, like Jess Roberts and Allison Verdoorn, to design – not their facilities, but their services. Architects, says Roberts, are “well suited to dealing with big, complex problems that require a lot of people to achieve an outcome,” and those same skills apply to the redesign of healthcare delivery. Verdoorn adds that “the methodology of architecture effective in understanding the problems in healthcare settings,” giving us “a set of tools that get people to think and see things in new ways.”

Read both of these articles. Sooner than later. And then let me know what you think.

Writing like you believe it

Issac Sweeney is looking for a summer job as an adjunct professor at James Madison University. He has posted in wonderful cover letter in a piece in the Chronicle of Higher Education. If like me, you have read dozens of cover letters from prospective applicants, you probably agree that this one stands out. I would want to meet him even if I didn’t have a job to offer him.

When I dug a little deeper I found this earlier post with an intriguing back story. Let’s assume what he says about his qualifications is correct. Apparently telling your bosses they are wrong is not a formula for success in academe.  And I suspect Issac isn’t going to find a job at any academic institution where the powers that be are worried about their own jobs or confused about their own sense of purpose. But if I were looking for a writer who can communicate with passion, and get me to take notice…ie to write a blog post like this one and tell you about me or my firm…he would be the guy.

Good luck, Issac. Hang in there. Your courage and conviction are badly needed, and will be rewarded.

 

The gods must be laughing

“When we talk of tomorrow, the gods laugh.” Chinese proverb

What? We’re in the planning business, for goodness sake. If this is true, why make plans? Sure, there is a ton of evidence that living in the present is essential, but was Daniel Burnham wrong when he said,

“Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men’s blood…Make big plans, aim high in hope and work.”

How can we live in the present when it’s clearly essential that we “plan” for the future? The answer lies within us, for it is not the plans themselves that create the future. It is the planning.  When we lead clients through the process of master planning, our true goal is not the creation of a document; a deliverable to satisfy a Board of Trustees, or to put on the shelf and collect dust. The real power of planning is in opening the mind, releasing the imagination, conceiving what had until that moment been inconceivable. And is so doing, we discover something has been there from the beginning.

The incredible, latent power of human potential is released through the process of imagining. The voices in our head that whisper “too much, too hard, too grand, too controversial, too weird, too expensive” are quieted during the planning process. Before the backhoes and brick masons arrive, the “cost” of planning is nominal. And yet the value is incalculable. So, why is it so difficult, and why is it often done so poorly?

Many of us have forgotten how to listen for the inspiration that flows like an underground stream just below the level of consciousness. And working in isolation, in our private offices or our solo practices we have lost the ability to help each other hear what we have been missing. It is so much easier for me to help you calm the naysayer in your head than to calm the naysayer in my own.

Instead of living (and working) in the present, we are stuck in the safe solutions of the past, or afraid of the uncertainty of the future. It is when we are fully present that we can hear the rush of the water.

Now, more than ever, our clients and our potential clients are desperate for us to stay tapped into that subterranean river of creativity that we at one time splashed in joyfully and hopefully. We may need a new swimsuit, but we haven’t forgotten how to swim.  Let’s jump in together.

Design is all we’ve got

When John McWade and Seth Godin collaborate the results are always excellent. Godin, in his brief essay in McWade’s Before and After blog, explains why we can no longer allow the tail to wag the dog.

“For too long, people who are passionate about design (that would be you…) have accepted their lot. They’ve assumed that they should shave their hours, discount their fees, do their work as journeymen and then move on.”

It will take you about 2 minutes to read this. Do it! It may be the most valuable time you invest this week.

There is no low impact solution when oil is involved

From Chris Harmon: “A year ago, a massive oil spill began in the Gulf. The entire country was glued to the news until the well was capped, and then we forgot about it.  As the year anniversary was fast approaching I became curious, just how much oil was that exactly? Where would it have gone? What I found was shocking.”

I’ve attached this link for two reasons: 1) to reinforce the urgency of addressing our use of energy and the role the design community must play in solving the problem (40% of our energy is consumed by buildings) and 2) as an example of a beautiful presentation that tells a compelling story with few words and simple images.

Credit is also due to Nathan Yau whose blog Flowing Data is a rich source of inspiration for anyone trying to tell a story with images.

Leading…or it is managing?

I am intrigued by the ferocity of the leadership versus management debate in the popular business literature. It is both, of course. Steven Covey’s metaphor of the work crew building a road in the forest is useful: Someone has to climb up into the trees to see what’s ahead and determine the best path for the road. Someone else needs to be on the ground managing the team building it. Both roles are essential, as is cooperation between them.

The conflict arises when so called leaders think they have somehow transcended the mundane routine of management, or when so called managers focus on building a tightly controlled organization instead of providing a service or making a product.

“Truly effective and inspiring leaders aren’t actually driven to lead people; they are driven to serve them. “ Simon Sinak

One day we may understand the grip of ego, fear, envy, greed and a whole host of other frailties on humans who still accomplish remarkable things by leading, managing and lest we forget, working with their hands and heads. Until then, there will always be a role for psychologists, spiritual leaders …and consultants.

“We have met the enemy and he is us.” Pogo

We creative types struggle with the paradoxical relationship between making art and running a business. And while we gain comfort from fictional characters like Howard Roark or books like Do What You Love and the Money Will Follow, most of us are unwilling or unable to accept the sacrifices and asceticism of Roark, or do the difficult work of self discovery required to discover what it is that we love doing.

With Managing Right for the First Time, David Baker has produced a practical, smart, readable, usable, helpful, and refreshingly irreverent guide for both new managers and those who are willing to return to the basics. This is the book I wish I had been given when I embarked on that first assignment that required a team of more than one.

Tempting though it may be to use this as a reference manual, don’t. At least not until you have read the entire book. If you have skipped the preface and introduction, by the time you reach the chapter entitled “Special Message for Control Freaks”, and his altar call in chapter 20 on “Maintaining Work Life Balance” you may be shocked and bemused by Baker’s core principle: most managers in creative businesses suffer from “stimulation deficit disorder” and “It’s dangerous to medicate your S.D.D. with your chosen profession.”

This is tough love, and painful if not impossible to accept for those who have repressed their inner artist all their lives and now find themselves miserable in management roles that are neither creative nor successful. Yet the ground is littered with the wreckage of artists and entrepreneurs who have started companies so they can do what they enjoy, and then flown them into the ground by failing to understand the difference between doing and managing, and accepting the responsibility to lead. Baker writes without apology that management is

”largely a thankless job that doesn’t depend directly on outside feedback. It’s more self motivated and is driven by your own innate sense of doing the right thing no matter how many others even see what you do… Management is not easy, and very few people do it extremely well. A common thread in those who do, though, is this understanding of the difference between doing and managing… So do you want to do or manage?”

What Baker fails to address at all, and perhaps by choice, is any discussion of the innate gifts and talents of extraordinary leaders. These legends are no more just the product of training, luck and experience than are Michael Jordan, Jeff Immelt, Abraham Lincoln, Steve Jobs and Martin Luther King, Jr. Yes, each was clearly in the right place at the right time, and each had the remarkable and well documented discipline, tenacity and resolve necessary to accomplish amazing things. But so did scores of others who lacked the genetic material to leverage their environment and drive. Nor does he spend much time celebrating the intrinsic rewards, the joy and pleasure successful managers gain by being a part of the growth and success of their protégés. There is a good chance, however, that if you are reading his book, you already understand this and have the right stuff. So in his inimitable way he doesn’t waste words restating the obvious.

Baker has distilled his vast experience as an employee, a manager, a parent, and as a successful consultant to over 500 small businesses to produce the one management book he notes, with characteristic immodestly, is worth reading. “Besides what you are cradling in your hands at the moment, most are full of fluff, fad, or fantasy. There are a few notable exceptions, though, like this one. But mainly they don’t resonate with my own experience and so I don’t know what to do with the suggestions.” He doesn’t waste words, so even this boast is a lesson for managers.

“Leaders are direct. Not rude, but direct. Being direct is motivated by a desire to truly communicate in a means whereby everything that’s necessary is included without any ancillary information or clutter.”

When you are ready, truly ready to make the shift from doing to leading, read and follow the advice in this book. If you are testing the management waters, read it to learn the unvarnished truth about what you may be getting into. If you want to avoid management and continue as a doer, read it to remind yourself why the status quo is the right place for you.

It’s one of the best books on management I’ve read, and like a small handful of books on a variety of subjects, I will read it again.

Another lesson from parenting

Ann and I had a great weekend in Atlanta with our son, Kerr, his wife, and their menagerie of pets. During a conversation with Kerr over lunch on Saturday I was reminded how every little thing we did as a parents had an effect on him and his brother, John. Like it or not, they were watching every move and every decision we made. Ann and I always tried to keep our focus on their growth and development knowing that we were responsible in large part for preparing them to function as adults. I realize now that was our Vision for them.

Holding a similar and equally clear vision in mind as we practice architecture is equally important. This is not “just business.” It is life, and as you may have heard me say, the future of the planet is in our capable hands. To practice architecture without an equally clear vision risks a legacy we may regret as our work “grows up” like our children.

Have a good week!

“Vision always comes before mission. You have to know where you’re going before you can figure out how to get there.” Simon Sinak