On Design Build
Once upon a time there lived architects who actually built buildings. They were essentially a General contractor, designer, architect, and engineer all wrapped up in one. If you wanted a new house you went to an architect to have it designed and built. Nowadays you still might start with an architect, but you then must also hire a builder. This two-headed monster that is our current system is a cause for concern. Because architects are no longer builders they tend not to design with builders in mind. Because builders are generally cynical men who have been hardened by a life of construction, they tend to be suspicious of architects. I think the sentiment held by your typical builder is that architects are fond of designing things that cannot be built, and because they wear nice shoes they are members of the cultural elite who look down their noses at dirty stinking contractors. That attitude towards architects is not as pervasive as I think it is, but it definitely exists. I once had a professor who was an architect, and also had a General Contractor license. He told us once that whenever he went onto a jobsite the first thing he would do was tell the builders that he was a “G.C.” just so they would let down their guards a bit. I take a different approach, when I show up on a jobsite, being secure in my building prowess (read: manhood), I wear nice clothes and nice shoes, and that way no one ever asks me to hold the end of a board or pick up any dirty tools.
I said before that our current system is a two-headed monster. It is actually a 5-headed monster: architect, engineer, builder, homeowner, municipality. Sometimes the lender or insurance company also has a say in how things are done which makes it a 6-headed monster. God forbid if the homeowners are a couple who both have opinions as to how to do things, but don’t actually communicate with one another—not only does that add another head to the monster (it’s a sub-head really, but still dangerous) it also turns the project into a really long and expensive counseling session. There’s nothing like hanging a door while trying to ignore a lover’s quarrel.
There is another way of building that I believe is better. It is called: Design-Build (cue music). Why is it better? Glad you asked.
Design-build merges the builder and the architect (and the engineer to a degree); much the way things were done in the old days. You used to hire an architect to literally build you a house. By merging designer and builder you cut off two of the 6 heads, and as people always say, “4 heads are better than 6.” The design-build method is a more efficient model because from the beginning the project is being designed with construction in mind. During the construction phase, any oversights by the designer are handled with very little fuss, and the same is true for changes. In the typical architect-designed building when the client walks into their home during the framing phase and realizes that the pantry is too small or the windows need adjusting the homeowner will start their appeal process with whichever carpenter is standing closest to them at the moment. From there the communication moves up the step-ladder to the foreman or the general contractor, who informs the homeowner that they will have to get approval and new drawings from the architect and probably the engineer—not to mention a change order from all three. Design build leaves room for these changes without wasting time or money.
What the architect designed model assumes is that a fully conceived project can be presented to and understood by your typical homeowner prior to commencement of construction. The problem that I see with that assumption is that what architects and designers actually create is close (usually 2 dimensional) representations of what a space will look and feel like. While those renderings are essential to the design process, they are still just representatives and are never ideal substitutes for actually walking through a space at full scale.
Further complicating the situation are things that my friends and I have come to call “the actuals.” There are the plans, and there are the actuals. The actuals exist in the gray area where the 2 dimensional representation of 3 dimensional space could not actually convey all the information of what is actually happening in an actual building. This situation is especially prevalent in remodels/additions where the builder is marrying new structure to old. It is next to impossible to figure out exactly how all engineering details and connections between surfaces will work before the existing house is opened up and stripped bare to show what is actually at work beneath the surface. Fortunately in the design build method we can adopt a wait and see approach in which we figure out minor (and major) details in the field after we have established a basic direction on our basic plans. This might sound like a “make it up as you go” approach to building, and well…it is.
In practice the design-build building is conceived by a practical artist who does not live merely in the abstract, but who has intimate knowledge of the way their art gets pieced together. You might think I’m throwing around the word artist a bit willy nilly here, and to be sure not all design-builders would refer to themselves as artists, but I would argue that building design is at the very least a branch on the art tree. Designing a house is a very practical art, but art nonetheless.
When I build a home for someone I almost always leave a substantial number of details undecided until the time of implementation. I have been accused of having “sparse” plans before. This is intentional. Usually these belated decisions don’t require a change in engineering or permitting, but can be left up to the discretion of the skilled tradesperson who is implementing the change. However, there are times when a decision on some detail which is put off ends up requiring new drawings or the approval of an engineer or building official. This is usually anticipated and can be handled with ease and efficiency by the same person who is implementing the change—namely me.