While in my first year of college, I remember a story my professor shared about building design . He spoke to us about a plain white shirt, asking, ”How much would you be willing to pay for the shirt?” A fair answer may have been somewhere around $5.00 at the time. Then we were asked to think about purchasing a shirt with a Mickey Mouse image emblazoned someplace on the front or the back. How much more would we then be willing to pay for the shirt? The price of that same white shirt may now have risen to $15.00 or more. The difference is that we see value in the mouse, not the plain white shirt itself. The lesson of this simple little story has stuck with me since.

As I develop in my career, I get to know more and more people through the requisite networking and day-to-day interactions with colleagues. In addition, I have had the opportunity to meet and get to know many architects and aspiring architects through my activity within the AIA. The list runs the gamut from high school students to the distinguished retired Fellows. A similarity I have found with most of these acquaintances is that for most of them—no matter their age—their college education does not appear to be a distant memory. Thoughts about our collegiate roots bring most of us back to the wide-eyed hopeful student that strives to bring forth a noteworthy idea of social significance through their uniquely innovative and artistic design solutions. Deep down, this Ted- Mosby-esque (How I Met Your Mother) aspiration lives in most of us as designers.

For those on the front lines of architectural practice, the reality is a stark contrast to the optimistic outlook that we all had once enjoyed. The business of architecture takes over while we manage clients in an attempt to balance their satisfaction with life safety and budget. Each is important, but it is often the budget that affects us most. Since we are part of the first costs in the development of a project, we are often one of the most scrutinized. The scrutiny causes us to undervalue the service that we provide to our clients and, in turn, to cut the proverbial throats of other architects to secure a commission. The undervalued appreciation we have in ourselves is reflected in the clients that we serve because we let them think about our services with that same mindset. In essence, we are our own worst enemies.

The fierce competition of our business causes me to ask the question, what is the difference between our services and the services of some of our most well-to-do professional neighbors, such as the doctors and the lawyers? Each has undertaken similar academic rigors and requirements and each entails the complex application of technical skill and problem solving, which are skills of a seasoned practitioner.

In comparing the sale of these three professional services, the difference appears to be how the services are marketed. The most obvious place to begin is with the client’s perception. Doctors and lawyers are often sought out as a necessity, providing valuable consultation to rectify painful problems. In comparison, an architect is sought because of building permitting requirements. The architect tends to be perceived as a procedural step in a process instead of an integral part of the building team. Doctors and lawyers are also consulted as experts in their niche fields. Possessing the moniker of an expert commands high fees. The higher the fee, the more expertise they must have. The architect, however, is often seen as simply providing a product that can be similarly provided by any layman with a pencil and paper. Architectural services have become commoditized and therefore are undervalued.

As a commodity, our service is seen as unspecialized or as having no intrinsic value. However, we must remember what it is that we offer. As an industry, we must educate our clients one by one, no matter how large or small the job. As professionals, we must have the ability to articulate and educate to others the value that we offer as professionals. A good architect provides, to a willing client, good design. Good design is more than a nice-looking building that meets the building code. For example, process principles such as Lean can be used to program a building that functions efficiently. Holistic overviews of the building process and materiality, mixed with an understanding of the environment, can provide sustainable solutions to fill a client’s needs. Ergonomic study can enhance social equity by providing better use of building programming by the physically challenged as well as the able bodied.

Aesthetics are, therefore, only a small part of the big picture when it comes to building design. When practiced in earnest, architecture is a sound investment for the willing client. Good programming and modern building techniques can save money by allowing for high-performing building systems and components, as well as increased efficiency of building occupant tasks. We are the experts on these techniques and on the best ways to combine and apply them, and we should communicate that to clients. With careful study, quantifiable metrics like this can enhance our sales pitch, increase design freedom, and allow our industry to flourish.

Now we come full circle. The doctors and lawyers have seared the image of the mouse on the plain white shirt in the eyes of their clients. Many of us architects have yet to create that same vision, or add that value, for our clients. I thought we were the visionaries. Now I ask: What are you selling? Are you selling the shirt, or are you selling the mouse?

Original Content located http://www.aia.org/aiaucmp/groups/ek_members/documents/pdf/aiab087824.pdf

This post was written by Dan Edgell and may not reflect the thoughts of AIA Rochester