At some point in every career, the path ahead stops looking like the one behind it. The work that once defined you begins to shift, not because it lost value but because you start to see yourself differently within it. For architects, that realization can be complicated because we build our identities around what we design, who we work with, and the roles we play in the process. Change has a way of testing all of that, forcing us to ask what parts of our career still fit and which ones need to evolve. Today, Andrew and I are talking about what happens when you change course, the challenges and rewards of starting fresh in familiar territory, and how to recognize when it is time to head in a new direction. Welcome to Episode 188: Changing Paths.

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Change is something both Andrew and I have lived through, and in this episode we wanted to take a closer look at what that really means. Each of us has reached a point where our careers needed to evolve, and the decisions that came next reshaped how we think about design, leadership, and purpose. This conversation isn’t about following a formula or finding the perfect next step; it’s about the reality of letting go of what feels safe and learning from what comes after. We talk about the adjustments, the uncertainty, and the satisfaction that can come from realizing you are still capable of growing no matter how long you have been doing this. Our hope is that anyone listening who might be facing a similar decision can find something here that helps them recognize that change, when you allow it, can be the most constructive part of your career.

When the Path Starts to Bend (Recognition) jump to 3:21

Bob's Perspective: There comes a point in most careers where the work you are doing and the person you are becoming start to drift just far enough apart that you can feel the gap forming. For me, it wasn’t about dissatisfaction or failure, but about balance. I began to recognize that not every professional decision I made was about me anymore. I had a family to provide for, and whether I liked it or not, that reality had to shape how I evaluated opportunity. The irony, of course, is that architecture doesn’t exactly offer financial guarantees no matter where you go, but I started to realize that what I was looking for had begun to shift. I wasn’t just thinking about projects anymore; I was thinking about impact.

Much of that realization came through the writing I was doing for the blog. Storytelling forced me to look at the profession differently and to think about how architects explain what they do and why it matters. Over time, I began to see that my influence didn’t have to come solely from drawing lines. I still think of myself as an above-average designer, but I started to value other skills that had developed along the way: communication, teaching, and helping people think differently about architecture. Those areas began to feel like ways to make a broader difference, and that awareness started to change what I wanted from my career.

When the opportunity came to move from a small, residentially focused practice to a larger commercial firm, the attraction wasn’t about leaving one thing behind for another; it was about growth. I wanted to see what would happen if I stepped into an environment that operated at a completely different scale. More people meant more challenges, more opportunities for leadership, and more potential to help shape culture. Change has never scared me. I have always seen it as a chance to redefine myself and fix a few flaws that I know I have. Every new chapter is an opportunity to rethink how I communicate, to see how others experience me, and to test whether I am living up to the expectations I set for myself.

The conversation that started the transition wasn’t strategic, and it wasn’t planned. I asked Andrew Bennett, one of the owners at BOKA Powell,

Architects explore the stories behind objects of design that remind us why design matters — revealing creativity, purpose, and meaning in everyday things.

Every rule was made to be broken, except in architecture, where even the act of breaking rules seems to come with its own set of rules. Modernism promised liberation from the past, but it quickly wrote its own commandments into the story—flat roofs, open plans, white walls, and exposed structure became the expected vocabulary. A movement that arrived as rebellion soon carried the weight of convention, and those conventions still shape how we design and judge buildings today. This week, Andrew and I are taking a closer look at the commandments of Modernism—where they came from, why they matter, and what they mean for the way we practice now. Welcome to Episode 186: The Rules of Modernism.

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If you are interested in seeing just a few of the houses I mentioned on the podcast, you can see them listed on the Realtor.com (here and here are just a few of them)

The Roots of Modernism jump to 6:30

Modern architecture did not emerge in a vacuum. It was a response to seismic shifts in society, technology, and culture that took place in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Industrialization had transformed the way people lived, cities were expanding at unprecedented rates, and new materials like steel, reinforced concrete, and large sheets of plate glass were suddenly available to architects. These inventions were not simply practical tools, they were symbols of a new age. Architects began to ask why they should keep designing buildings that looked like medieval castles or classical temples when the world around them had become faster, lighter, and more efficient. The very idea of progress seemed incompatible with copying the past, and so Modernism positioned itself as the architecture of a new century - an architecture that would represent industry, rationality, and optimism for the future.

This rejection of the past was more than an aesthetic preference, it was a manifesto. Ornament was not just unnecessary, it was cast as dishonest and wasteful. Historical references were treated as evidence of cultural stagnation. In their place, Modernists put forward ideas of functional clarity, open planning, and structural honesty. The promise was bold: architecture would no longer serve as a backdrop for tradition, it would become a tool for shaping a better society. Housing would be healthier, cities would be more efficient, and design would finally align with the realities of modern life. It was not only about how buildings looked, but about how they could transform the way people lived … and that is why the roots of Modernism matter to this conversation. The movement began as a radical break from the architectural traditions that came before it, yet it also established a new set of values that quickly hardened into conventions of their own. Before we can explore the “rules” of Modern design, we need to understand the cultural and historical conditions that gave rise to them. Only then can we appreciate the irony that a movement born from revolution became one of the most codified design languages of the twentieth century.

By the time Modernism had established itself internationally, the movement that began as rebellion had already created its own set of unwritten rules. Architects may not have published them in a single manifesto, but they were understood all the same. You could look at a building and know whether it was ‘Modern’ or not, based on a handful of essential qualities. These rules were never carved into stone, yet they became the code that defined the movement for decades. To understand Modern design, and to really grasp how it operates, we need to lay out those unspoken commandments - the ideas that quietly dictate what belongs inside the Modernist tradition and what falls outside of it.

The Ten Commandments of Modernism jump to 13:42

Modernism never published a rulebook,

It’s one thing to be busy and another to be productive – and most of us are far better at the first than the second. The reality is that architects live in a world of deadlines, meetings, and endless to-do lists, but somehow there’s always time to check Instagram, rearrange your desktop icons, or spend twenty minutes deciding which playlist will help you focus before actually doing the work. Procrastination has a way of disguising itself as “just five more minutes” until suddenly tomorrow is looking a lot worse than today. This week, Andrew and I are taking a closer look at procrastination – why it happens, how it disrupts even the best-laid plans, and what you can actually do to keep it from derailing your work. Welcome to Episode 185: Procrastination: Today’s Problems Tomorrow.

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The Struggle is Real jump to 4:09

Procrastination is not about a lack of discipline or effort, it is more like a default response that shows up once the to-do list starts outpacing the hours in the day. Think of it as that urge to tidy up your inbox, check social media one more time, or find anything else to do besides the one task that really matters. It is less about bad intent and more about a short-term survival instinct. I would not describe myself as someone who avoids work, but I can admit there are times when I put things off until there is no other choice, and I suspect that puts me in the same company as most people reading this.

There is research that connects personality traits with procrastination, and some of it feels uncomfortably familiar when applied to architects. People who score high in conscientiousness usually do well in professional settings, but that same trait often brings with it a strong tendency toward perfectionism. When you are wired to want things done at a very high level, it can be easy to delay getting started until you believe conditions are “just right.” The irony is that the higher the standard, the harder it becomes to begin, and procrastination finds a perfect opening. Other personality studies using Myers-Briggs categories found that INTP (Introversion, Intuition, Thinking, Perception) types were among the highest procrastinators. Those individuals tend to be analytical, independent, and comfortable living in their heads, which can be useful qualities for architects, but those same strengths can also create a pattern of putting things off. When you are wired to keep analyzing and refining your ideas, starting the work can feel less urgent than thinking about it just a little longer.

There is another angle to consider, which is that procrastination can actually act as a coping mechanism. Psychologists describe it as a form of avoidance, but not always in a destructive sense. Putting something off can create short-term relief, and that breathing space can sometimes be what allows a person to function in the moment. The problem is that the stress does not go away, it simply accumulates and grows heavier with time. For some people, that mounting pressure even becomes the fuel they rely on to finally act, which is why procrastination is not only common but oddly effective for those who claim they “work best under pressure.”

Architects are Busy jump to 16:03

a look at my weekly calendar for the time we recorded today's podcast episode

Procrastination is not always about laziness, and more often than not it shows up as the result of overload. Nobody in this profession plans to avoid their responsibilities, but when the day fills up with meetings, deadlines, and emails, something is going to slip. That delay might look small in the moment, like moving one task to tomorrow’s list, but it still qualifies as procrastination. It is not intentional avoidance, it is triage, and triage always comes with consequences. Architects are especially vulnerable to this because so much of our time is spent in coordination mode,...

The Architect as Brand explores how personal reputation and firm identity collide, coexist, and shape modern architectural practice.

Architectural career tips meet life lessons in a conversation about balancing professional success with being a genuinely good person. This is Tips for being an Architect and a Good Person.

Discover how AI tools are transforming architecture, from design and research to workflow efficiency, and shaping the future of practice.

How leadership behavior shapes culture, trust, and growth - why people mirror what leaders model, and how influence is built through everyday actions.

The phrase “it’s just a small project” has probably caused more confusion, blown more budgets, and strained more relationships than we’d care to admit. It sounds harmless, maybe even charming - the architectural equivalent of a quick favor. But that phrase carries weight. Because behind every modest addition, bathroom remodel, or garage conversion is the same professional rigor we apply to larger work … just without the benefit of scale. Whether it’s fees that don’t shrink as expected, construction costs that defy logic, or clients caught off guard by the number of decisions they’ll need to make, these projects demand clarity, patience, and experience. So today, we’re talking about what architects need to communicate, anticipate, and prepare for when the work is small but the expectations are not. Welcome to Episode 180: Size Doesn't Matter.

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Architectural Fees Don't Scale jump to 3:50

One of the most misunderstood aspects of residential design is how architectural fees are determined. Many clients assume that a smaller project should result in a proportionally smaller fee. But architectural fees don’t scale like that. A 400-square-foot addition still requires site measurements, code research, zoning analysis, (possibly) consultant coordination, and detailed documentation. Whether the project is 400 or 4,000 square feet, many of the baseline efforts remain the same. You still need floor plans, reflected ceiling plans, building sections, wall sections, electrical layouts, and coordination with structural engineers or energy consultants. And while the documentation may be shorter, the care and precision required to make a small project work can sometimes take even more time. For example, a kitchen renovation might involve more detail and coordination per square foot than an entire house.

The AIA has published guidance on fee structures in the "Architect's Handbook of Professional Practice," (this is a book that I highly recommend) which notes that project complexity and risk should be used to help determine compensation, not just size. As architects, we must be clear in helping clients understand that fees represent time and expertise, not floor area. If you charge a fixed fee or percentage of construction cost, be sure to explain what that covers and what it doesn’t. Helping clients see the value in pre-design services, permitting assistance, and construction observation can prevent misunderstandings later. Saving the best for last, just because it’s a small project doesn’t mean the liability is small. Professional risk remains, which means the time spent to get it right matters, regardless of scale.

the post that I referenced in our discussions was this one ...*the penalty of drawing too much -  Excessive or Essential?

The Entire Timeline jump to 9:43

Clients often think the timeline for a small project will be quick. And to be fair, the design phase might be shorter than that of a ground-up custom home. But that’s only one piece of the puzzle. Permitting can take anywhere from a few weeks to several months, depending on the jurisdiction. In some cities, small additions are routed through full plan review just like new homes. And once the project is permitted, the construction timeline is subject to the availability of contractors and materials, site conditions, and even weather. It’s our responsibility to help clients understand the full arc of the process.

According to a 2023 survey from Houzz, the average design-to-completion timeline for a kitchen remodel is around 8-12 months, even when the construction itself only takes 2-3. Why the gap? Because there are lags built into the process. Design review boards, HOA approvals, contractor bidding windows, and permit review times all add up. When you add in backorders on appliances or materials, things can shift quickly. That’s why it’s so important to map out the process...

Architectural influencers on social media can bring real insight to the table while others blur the line between experience and performance, you should evaluate what you’re seeing, questioning why it was shared, and learn how to tell the difference between helpful guidance and a well-lit shortcut.