I worked on the design all night. Toiling over every last detail. Putting together a simple solution to the multi-faceted program you gave me. Working into the wee hours, fueled by passion and caffeine.
The client wants their cousin, who’s in design school, to take a look at it.
We busted our tail to meet the deadline today, putting extra staff on the job, on overtime, all night to finish the presentation in time, emailing the pdfs at the last minute.
The Client’s automatic reply email says they are out of the office until next week.
Working on option 2 for the client all week. Correcting all the shortcomings of option 1, finding new opportunities in the design, and getting excited about the new approach.
Client says they prefer option 1
The project is developing into a symphony of rectangular forms, organized by a grid, straightforward, clean, and simple forms, a rectilinear masterpiece.
The client would like to see more curves.
The architect promises unlimited options to arrive at the design that the client loves. Typically it takes 1 or 2 options to find the perfect design.
The client asks for 12 options, saying they’re not sure, but they’ll know when they see it.
I strategically placed sculpted forms in the light, raising the masses up on pilotis, cutting the facade with ribbon windows, and crafting an intimate roof garden oasis.
The client would like a larger garage.
I spend weeks working on the design. Days and days crafting my intentions onto the plan. Weeks, creating elegance out of nothing but thin air. I slaved over the details. I fretted over every aspect of the facade. I put a piece of myself into every drawing.
The client hated it.