I’ve worked as an architect for many friends over the years. Each time a new project has come up, others have said that it's the best way to lose friends and that I shouldn’t do it. So far I haven’t listened, and so far I haven’t lost any friends.
Recently an old friend and his wife came to me with a plan to build a new family home on land adjacent to their existing house. I sensed that they’d walked the land many times, dreaming of how building their perfect house would benefit them as they brought up their growing family. Having lived in the area for many years, they'd become rooted to their place and couldn’t face moving elsewhere.
When I visited them, I was on the receiving end of an outpouring of their dreams and at times like that I never under-estimate the privileged position in which I find myself. There can’t be many roles where a couple openly set out their ambitions for domestic life in such an intimate way. A privileged position, yes, but also a tricky one. If I respond with too much enthusiasm for their ideas, I will be setting myself up for a fall if things turn out differently than envisioned. Too negative, and I risk being dismissed as unhelpful.
You’ll excuse me then, when I say that I take a slightly cautious approach in such circumstances! Within a few moments, and armed with significantly less than all of the information that I need, I will have to give judgement on whether I think their ideas are workable or not. I will be asked to comment on their chances of success through the planning system and I will be asked to provide support for their project. In response I have to strike a balance, behaving as both the excited designer with a potential new project and the pragmatic advisor who knows there will be many obstacles to overcome. I have to be simultaneously optimistic and sceptical.
But it is hard not to be swept up by the enthusiasm of clients with a dream project. I know they will have seen many inspirational projects in magazines and on television, and they will be aware of the tenacity that is required to realise them. What they won’t have seen are the projects that never make it to the press or the screen because they were refused at the planning stage or they turned out to be too expensive or because of some other story that caused the project to fail. Abandoned projects don’t sell magazines and don’t make for good TV. What people expect is the classic plot line of ambition, challenge (but not too much), perseverance and, ultimately, a happy ending.
So the first thing to do in such circumstances is investigate the ‘show-stoppers’; those issues that might bring the project to an abrupt end. These could include things such as issues of ownership, access, covenants, wildlife or unknown features in the ground. In this particular case, some quick homework revealed that difficulties with planning policy would be the main obstacle. The context of the site meant that it fell between what might be permitted by two policies.The situation was open to interpretation and impossible to predict. I judged that they had less than a 50:50 chance of success.
In light of this, I didn’t want to see my friends spend too much time and money on their project. I didn’t want them to become too emotionally attached to an idea that might not work. I didn’t want them to pour over the design, finessing every detail, choosing every fixture and finish in their minds eye, without greater confidence that it could become a reality. Of course, their argument that 'if we don’t try, we’ll never know’ was hard to counter and when put on the spot, I had to concede that there was a chance worth exploring, even if it wasn’t a very big or a very likely one. The thing was, the issues at stake couldn’t be tested with a minimal outline application, we’d need to submit all the detail of a full application.
To minimise time and cost, and to limit our collective involvement, I persuaded my friends that at this point in time we shouldn’t design their ultimate family home. They agreed to put on hold what they really wanted to do while I quickly came up with a rough approximation of what they wanted so that it could be tested through the planning system. If consent was granted, we could then spend time carefully amending the design to suit their detailed requirements. It was hard for them to work with me on a scheme that they didn’t really want, however short the design period. I know they understood the reasons why, but I also know how frustrating it was for them.
As I write, the planning application has been submitted and validated and we await the various responses that will emerge over the coming weeks. I don’t know whether we will be successful. If permission is granted I’m sure we will share a bottle of something and look forward to designing the dream house. If it isn’t granted, no doubt we will be deflated and will be forced to regroup. More than anything though, I hope that my contribution isn’t judged on the basis of us ‘winning’ or ‘losing’, but by the way in which I looked after my friends through the process. In saying that, there’s an obvious lesson for how I work with all of my clients.
‘I’d rather have friends who care than friends who agree with me’. Arlo Guthrie
This article was written by Andy Foster for the November ‘20 edition of the Sherborne Times.