Architectural competitions have a long and illustrious history, but we’re kidding ourselves if we think every little project deserves one. Most are a tremendous waste of time.
Centuries ago, France’s best architects competed for the most important commissions in the nation. Of course, this meant that some of their most highly trained professionals only built one or two buildings in their lifetime, but we have beautiful watercolors of alternate versions of realities that could have been in addition to the influential structures built. Those paintings and drawings are still a rich source of study for Eurocentric architects and historians.
Today, architects are invited to come up with their boldest and most innovative thoughts to apply to major projects all over the world. These buildings are so important that, on occasion, the architects might even be paid a stipend for their efforts. However, in most cases the architects are expected to be flattered to associate with such wonderful potential clients, no matter the long odds (or even entry fees) linked to the project.
Open competitions fuel the dreams of upstart firms everywhere. The big break, the recognition for radical and new ideas, is a tempting prospect, and one that occasionally does lead to immense recognition. This happens most often on smaller projects such as memorials, but there is a very real chance that these can kickstart a new designer’s career.
Most of the time, however, competitions are simply a way for clients to put a positive spin on having no idea what they want to do. In fact, if a client sends out an RFP that asks for a rendered design concept on a fairly standard building type, odds are about 10:1 that they are new to the industry and don’t even have a clear program in mind to test the project’s financial viability. They’re looking for a free consultation to jumpstart their work. Last week I even saw an open competition posted for a “global company’s” office reception desk.
Some are invited and paid affairs, which obviously make more sense to enter, but the deliverable expectations are much higher, and can tie up essential staff for weeks or even months. The monetary calculations design firms make tend to reflect their odds of winning. For a fee payment of $30,000, the firm may spend over $100,000 in pursuit of a very large commission with a 3:1 chance of winning. One win will pay for the other pursuits in this case, but no wins will severely strain a firm’s finances. A win also may guarantee a free revision of the concept, since there is no way it can effectively meet the owner’s needs without good dialog.
Still, architects are all too willing to leap at the chance to give away their ideas, especially if they have unpaid student labor willing to produce the work. Never mind the fact that they usually aren't even good ideas, because a truly innovative building design doesn't come fully formed from the head of a dissociated architect. Good work takes collaboration and input from all of a project’s stakeholders.
Extremely high-profile state commissions and memorials stand apart from this criticism if handled well. An expert client that requires a custom design to fit their unique market position or function generally does not exist for these sorts of projects, and when they do a heavy client involvement with all teams will take the process to fruitful territory. The competition allows them to move forward in a brash (or sometimes thoughtful) new way.
However, by the nature of their speed and the lack of client dialogue on the process, the designs provided via the competition are often recycled from the last one, or from other work. Repackaging old ideas into new forms is generally the most effective way to approach a design contest. In almost every case, there simply isn’t time for a full thesis—based on in-depth research and truly innovative thinking—to be formed, and the design team is faced with compiling their own preferences and existing work into a package that can be rendered.
That sort of thinking and research required for most projects, including basically all commercial ones, needs the special input that the client must bring to the table. The idea that a design firm will develop a concept without that input, without fully understanding the necessary branding, the specific target audience, the timeline of user experience that the owner bases their business model around, makes no sense and suggests that the owner most likely doesn’t have the vision–or money–required to complete such a project.
The past several years of a struggling economy have meant that dreamers, whether small town councils or unfunded developers, have relied upon idle design teams to help generate enthusiasm for new work. Reaching out with a request for proposal from an architect is essentially free, and adding a requirement for a concept design can generate artist’s renderings and new ideas at no cost to the owner.
Recent economic improvements have shifted that behavior slightly. Today design firms are busier and clients limit the RFP to three or four firms that have been pre-approved. But the net result for the design team is the same: a lot of free work for a project that is unlikely to be built, because the client does not know what they want or what will work. If they knew, and could afford it, they would do their homework and hire a firm outright, and get to work. The competition is simply a delay tactic for undercooked project ideas.
Architects and designers are not giving up on competitions anytime soon; they’re too ingrained in the culture. Still, we all need to look hard at anyone who proposes holding one today. Competitions are a warning sign, one that says to look closely at the competence and capabilities of the client.
Centuries ago, France’s best architects competed for the most important commissions in the nation. Of course, this meant that some of their most highly trained professionals only built one or two buildings in their lifetime, but we have beautiful watercolors of alternate versions of realities that could have been in addition to the influential structures built. Those paintings and drawings are still a rich source of study for Eurocentric architects and historians.
Today, architects are invited to come up with their boldest and most innovative thoughts to apply to major projects all over the world. These buildings are so important that, on occasion, the architects might even be paid a stipend for their efforts. However, in most cases the architects are expected to be flattered to associate with such wonderful potential clients, no matter the long odds (or even entry fees) linked to the project.
Open competitions fuel the dreams of upstart firms everywhere. The big break, the recognition for radical and new ideas, is a tempting prospect, and one that occasionally does lead to immense recognition. This happens most often on smaller projects such as memorials, but there is a very real chance that these can kickstart a new designer’s career.
Most of the time, however, competitions are simply a way for clients to put a positive spin on having no idea what they want to do. In fact, if a client sends out an RFP that asks for a rendered design concept on a fairly standard building type, odds are about 10:1 that they are new to the industry and don’t even have a clear program in mind to test the project’s financial viability. They’re looking for a free consultation to jumpstart their work. Last week I even saw an open competition posted for a “global company’s” office reception desk.
Some are invited and paid affairs, which obviously make more sense to enter, but the deliverable expectations are much higher, and can tie up essential staff for weeks or even months. The monetary calculations design firms make tend to reflect their odds of winning. For a fee payment of $30,000, the firm may spend over $100,000 in pursuit of a very large commission with a 3:1 chance of winning. One win will pay for the other pursuits in this case, but no wins will severely strain a firm’s finances. A win also may guarantee a free revision of the concept, since there is no way it can effectively meet the owner’s needs without good dialog.
Still, architects are all too willing to leap at the chance to give away their ideas, especially if they have unpaid student labor willing to produce the work. Never mind the fact that they usually aren't even good ideas, because a truly innovative building design doesn't come fully formed from the head of a dissociated architect. Good work takes collaboration and input from all of a project’s stakeholders.
Extremely high-profile state commissions and memorials stand apart from this criticism if handled well. An expert client that requires a custom design to fit their unique market position or function generally does not exist for these sorts of projects, and when they do a heavy client involvement with all teams will take the process to fruitful territory. The competition allows them to move forward in a brash (or sometimes thoughtful) new way.
However, by the nature of their speed and the lack of client dialogue on the process, the designs provided via the competition are often recycled from the last one, or from other work. Repackaging old ideas into new forms is generally the most effective way to approach a design contest. In almost every case, there simply isn’t time for a full thesis—based on in-depth research and truly innovative thinking—to be formed, and the design team is faced with compiling their own preferences and existing work into a package that can be rendered.
That sort of thinking and research required for most projects, including basically all commercial ones, needs the special input that the client must bring to the table. The idea that a design firm will develop a concept without that input, without fully understanding the necessary branding, the specific target audience, the timeline of user experience that the owner bases their business model around, makes no sense and suggests that the owner most likely doesn’t have the vision–or money–required to complete such a project.
The past several years of a struggling economy have meant that dreamers, whether small town councils or unfunded developers, have relied upon idle design teams to help generate enthusiasm for new work. Reaching out with a request for proposal from an architect is essentially free, and adding a requirement for a concept design can generate artist’s renderings and new ideas at no cost to the owner.
Recent economic improvements have shifted that behavior slightly. Today design firms are busier and clients limit the RFP to three or four firms that have been pre-approved. But the net result for the design team is the same: a lot of free work for a project that is unlikely to be built, because the client does not know what they want or what will work. If they knew, and could afford it, they would do their homework and hire a firm outright, and get to work. The competition is simply a delay tactic for undercooked project ideas.
Architects and designers are not giving up on competitions anytime soon; they’re too ingrained in the culture. Still, we all need to look hard at anyone who proposes holding one today. Competitions are a warning sign, one that says to look closely at the competence and capabilities of the client.
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