Exploded Eames Lounge Chair – Henry Ford Museum, Dearborn, MI
At times, it looks as if a toy factory exploded in the living room. If you’re the one on the receiving end of a Little Guy hand-off, walking into the chaos can be overwhelming and kind of confusing. How is it possible that this is the result of a 17 month old ‘playing’? Surely the haphazard, strewn about array of blocks… and cars… and foam tubes… and books… and cereal… must have been the result of some sort of toddler dance party.
But when you’re there for the process and you witness how the end result comes to be, it’s actually quite interesting – and not quite as random as it sometimes seems.
I’ve experienced this same feeling throughout my career as an Architect. Numerous times, I’ve been handed a job for one reason or another, that was started by someone else. Dive in. Get up to speed. And away you go. Often, whether expressed out loud or not, after a bit of orientation I start to wonder “What the hell were they thinking?” How did things get to this point? Where’s the reason? The cause and effect? Is this just a series of random shapes and spaces or did someone actually have a methodology behind what I am looking at? But when you’re there for it from the beginning, it makes a little more sense. There’s reason. There’s process.
The other day I watched my son push a pirate ship out of the sun room, thru the dining room and into the living room. He had preloaded it with two pirates and a polar bear (I blame climate change). This should have had the simple result of a pirate ship ending up in the living room. However, along the way he encountered a cup of snacks and dropped anchor to enjoy. The snack was good – enough to share with a few mateys – so a few were dropped onto the deck boards of the ship before setting sail again. A few clicks later, a bucket was used as a platform for the pirates to stand on, then used as a helmet for my son – who then decided that he needed a spoon to go with the bucket – which was next to the plastic fruit and vegetables so he grabbed an orange (have to keep the pirates scurvy free) and put it on the ship too. He pulled the ship across the floor and all of the above cargo was strewn about within a matter of seconds. The pirates made it safely to the couch. The polar bear was lost at sea. All of this happened in about 90 seconds. It doesn’t sound like that big of a deal, but by my estimation, he’s awake for approximately 38,000 seconds a day. . . .
I knew why there was a spoon under the dining room table, why there was a smashed piece of cereal next to fake food on the floor, why a lone polar bear sat on the carpet waiting to be picked back up, and why there was a pirate ship in a bucket on the couch. It might not make sense if you walked into it, but there was some reasoning and a process that created it.
Studio m Architecture + Design is fortunate enough to have a good, steady stream of work for the past few months – and some good conversations in the works for the future. I’ve never felt so sure of what I was doing in my career than I have since I started my own practice, and I think it has a lot to do with being here from the beginning. I’ve made the decisions, watched the finances, set up the structure of the company, and the projects are mine. I start them and I finish them and the process, the reasoning, and the path that I take with each client makes sense to me because I’m the one who gets to decide what happens. It’s very reassuring since it seems to be working too. There are piles of parts and pieces strewn about my workspace – a stack of professional liability research and invoices, in progress marketing material, a box of receipts, and scattered sketches and notes about a few different projects. Good luck trying to make sense of it if you were to sit in my chair. . . but I have a process. . . .
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Design a Dad 