The glamorous life of The Architect (or so you think)

Submitted by Ileana Schinder, Architect (Washington, DC)

Ileana Schinder

It’s National Architecture Week in the US, which prompted some of us architects here at Stantec/Burt Hill/Anshen + Allen to reflect on how others—and specifically popular culture—perceive the persona of “The Architect.” Some of our favorites:

Robert Reed (aka Mike Brady) from “The Brady Bunch”
Wilbur Post on “Mr. Ed”
Brian Dennehy in “The Belly of an Architect”
Henry Fonda in “12 Angry Men”
Gary Cooper in “The Fountainhead”
Albert Finney in “Two for The Road”
Michelle Pfeiffer in “One Fine Day”
Woody Harrelson in “Indecent Proposal”
Matt Dillon’s alibi in “There’s Something About Mary”
George Costanza’s alter ego, Art Vandelay, on “Seinfeld”
And the newly anointed Architect Barbie, complete with hard hat and blueprints

Of this list, George Costanza's Art Vandelay is my favorite by far. Why? Because he demonstrates exactly the distance between how people see architects and how architects see themselves. On the show, Art had everything George wished he could have—a quirky name, a mythical profession, hair. In real life, though, being an architect isn’t quite that glamorous.

It's not rare that, even today, people think that we architects draw with pencils and straight edges (no) on raised drafting tables (um, no) with multiple artistic strokes (never) and gaze pensively into our own drawings until a genius idea—that will be built—grows spontaneously from it. Also, in movies and TV, architects always carry a hard tube to lug around heavy drawings instead of the more common laptop and flash drive.

Art Vandelay, like other fictional architects, probably lived in a spectacular, natural-lit house with fabulous furniture and bright, trendy accents that combine perfectly into an aesthetic dream. He certainly did not furnish his home with pieces he scavenged from the college dumpster or his aunt’s cast-offs, like most of my colleagues. The real world gives us more build-it-yourself Swedish gear and hand-me-down furniture than is possible to convey in fiction.

This unrealistic impression of The Architect bears true in real life as well. When I tell people I’m an architect, I often receive a stunned look with a response that says “Oh, wow!” I can’t tell if the surprise is a result of people’s idea that architecture school is some sort of nearly impossible boot camp (although that’s not far off) and are impressed with my triumph over it. Or if, because I’m a woman, people think that architecture is a man’s profession and they picture me climbing scaffolding to fight contractors, or marching around a job site telling everyone what to do and how much money to spend. No and no. (Although I think my own mother, for some reason, does think I boss people around all day.)

Often, I think people envision me leaning on my drafting table at 4:00 am with vellum pinned to the MDF board, slaving away to meet an impossible deadline. Or they picture me and my colleagues—the women in sleek pantsuits and square-rimmed glasses and the men sporting black turtlenecks… and square-rimmed glasses—sipping wine and debating the lasting influence of nanotechnology in energy modeling of buildings. It is no wonder that in this fantasy world all architects have to have a favorite building, or a favorite architect. Just like, I imagine, dentists have a favorite tooth.

Truth be told, I actually enjoy these clichés and impressions. They give me a reason to chuckle to myself when others fantasize about the exciting life of The Architect. I’m often asked if I designed my own house, or if plan to do so. I always say yes but I secretly know that until Ikea comes up with a house-in-a-box (some assembly required, Allen wrench included) that may not actually happen.

It is the fictional architects and the fantasy world they created that make people like Brad Pitt declare that he wishes he was an architect. So let’s celebrate the persona of The Architect! And Brad, if you’re reading this, we might have room in our DC office… Finally! Someone I can tell what to do!