Writings

Looking Forward to Monday Morning
A series of essays on business, architecture, and the business of architecture.
Some People Hate Walnut
by Daniel Frisch
Posted June 26th, 2019

A bit to our surprise, we have found that tastes and preferences are not universal, and that we do not design in a vacuum. Very often, we think we have presented something quite unique, only to run across a strikingly similar picture in a magazine. In some moments, we feel we are trend setting, and in others, we recognize we have succumbed to trend following. As designers, we are arbiters of style, and most of the time our team shares a common sensibility. Our clients, on the other hand, have tastes and preferences that are comparatively diverse. Navigating between the current themes and aesthetics preferred by our team and each client’s sensibilities and associations is a dynamic and even, thrilling process. Successful projects stem from this partnership, and the more carefully we listen to and incorporate a client’s wants and needs, the better the result.

Listening should be easier than it is. Since we are retained to lead and to express our opinion, careful listening is not explicitly expected – yet it is without question our first priority. I rarely make it through a week without reminding a client that we are designing their home, not our own. If anyone wishes to see how I choose to live, visit danielfrisch.com and pull up the pictures of “Kent Hollow.” I am confident that many of our clients would like to live in such a house, but I am equally certain that none should. Thousands of decisions go into the design of a home, and while certain projects may share design DNA, every home is unique. We’ve come to learn that this individualization intimidates many people. That which should be fun and exciting can instead be overwhelming – for reference, please see the chapter “The Tyranny of Too Much.” As we lead clients through the design process we try to balance our expertise and passion with theirs. Clients wouldn’t need us if they could design their own homes, and equally true, we would have few homes to design without patrons.

Early in the programming phase of a project, we work closely with our clients to understand the project drivers, everything from budget, to function, to aesthetics. In working with clients on their program, we endeavor to go far below the surface. The initial questions are many. How many bedrooms? A downstairs master? Is an open kitchen preferred? How often will the owner entertain? If we were to put forth a questionnaire, the most basic questions would number in the hundreds. To make matters more challenging, spouses and children (when they are involved in project planning), often disagree about priorities and project specifics. Once the functional program is outlined, we seek to understand the aesthetic program. No matter the challenges of expression, anyone undertaking a project has strong pre-formed ideas about what their ideal home should look like. While we find geographic, socioeconomic, and generational similarities to be shared by many, we know enough to know not to assume we know a client’s aesthetic program based on superficial assessments. Working with a combination of saved Houzz images and Pinterest boards, clients have come to abandon the “I know it when I see it” method of communication, and to come to initial meetings armed with collections of images. Once we begin to understand the functional and aesthetic program, we can compare these collected thoughts to the project budget, the third element of a nuanced and developed project program.

Reaching an understanding of the major program items usually comes easily, and preliminary plans take shape with clarity and enthusiasm. As designs are refined, and as final decisions are made, and even more significantly, as construction commences, it is natural for clients to second-guess certain decisions about which they had been previously resolute. When going through this inevitable process of reconsideration, we’ve found our clients fall into two camps – the ninety percent that comfortably reaffirm their choices, and the ten percent that, with great embarrassment and even unhappiness, ask for a change. Studying these metrics always reminds me of a specific psychology 101 lecture class in college, when our professor introduced us to the concept of cognitive dissonance. The segment of the course was based on the work of Leon Festinger (A Theory of Cognitive Dissonance, 1957). Dr. Festinger straightforwardly lays out the dispute between head and heart that is at the very basis of design decision-making. Dissonance, according to Dr. Festinger comes when your intellect or heart wants one thing, but your heart or intellect argues for the opposite. Working with and reconciling this dissonance is a daily process for those of us who lead design teams and interact with clients on a daily basis.

We are aided in our navigation by the ninety-ten rule, as I’ve termed it. Ninety percent of the time a reconsideration is resolved in favor of the original decision. This is a happy occurrence as re-considerations invariably arrive at awkward times – often after construction has commenced or when installations are complete. Re-considerations that occur mid-construction are particularly vexing as incomplete construction only affords a partial image of a completed composition. Our job is to help complete the picture and aid our clients in understanding whether the design will weather the crisis in confidence and whether we should move forward without re-design. As Dr. Festinger observed, most dissonance is resolved in the favor of the original selection. Provided enough work and diligence went into the original decision, the mind settles on the first preference as not being subjective (or dissonant), but rather as resolute and objective. This process of careful consideration leading to selections helps explain why opinions are held with such consistency in all manner of subjective criteria – from music (who is your favorite band?) to sports teams (ask a Wolverine fan how he or she feels about Ohio State). Very few people waver or display any real dissonance when it comes to such dug-in subjects.

When commissioning a home, most clients lack this level of certainty, and dissonance appears with great predictability. While most situations are resolved as above, the occasional reconsideration presages an actual change – as opposed to an affirmation. No matter how carefully criteria are considered on paper, and no matter the certainty of conviction, dissonance creeps in and people change their minds. On most occasions, communication, or lack thereof, is blamed as the culprit. In reality, the change is usually the result of uncovered dissonance, a condition or circumstance that lurked below the surface and was therefore, non-discoverable during earlier conversations. Confusing twenty-twenty hindsight with a lack of initial vision is a danger and leads to blame and recrimination. When inevitable changes of course arise, we find it better to embrace the new direction, especially as our ninety-ten rule suggests that the out-of-the blue reconsideration is a relatively unusual circumstance.

Extensive and intimate programming conversations seek to reduce the likelihood of dissonance, and our awareness of the concept helps us to anticipate concerns that may arise. Notwithstanding every once in a while we are surprised by a client reaction to an installation. On one particular occasion, we saw an opportunity to utilize a little area of space within a wall for a client. Thinking we would deliver a pleasant surprise to our client we designed a walnut art niche, which elegantly capitalized upon the found space. This happy event was undercut by the client’s immediate statement when she saw the installation, that she hated walnut. It is quite possible that this was shared during early conversations, but I’ll never know for sure. Tastes and preferences vary, sometimes greatly, beauty as they say, is in the eye of the beholder.