When I was in graduate school, my plan was to create a vertically integrated design and development company. I loved designing things and wanted to remain close to those sorts of details, but I had already decided that I wasn't going to be an architect in the traditional sense and that I was going to be a developer. And so my objective was to figure out a way to combine everything under one roof. How could we be designers, but also be the entrepreneurs that make buildings happen?

In some ways, Mackay Laneway House is a manifestation of that model. Through a partnership with Gabriel Fain Architects, we (Globizen Studio) have been heavily involved on the design side. Gabriel did all of the drawings and the overall architecture, but we weighed in (more than your typical client), selected most of the FF&E, and even designed things like the kitchen (with Scavolini) and the exterior signage. I wouldn't call it true vertical integration, but we did start to blur the lines between architect/designer and developer.

One of the interesting things about this approach is that it begins to create some consistency and a bit of a branded product. The hope is that when Mackay Laneway House is fully complete, it will read as a Globizen project, which is not that dissimilar from what David Wex of Urban Capital was talking about in this recent podcast. Their projects are a specific kind of product. They generally repeat it, and if that's not what you're interested in, then you don't buy an Urban Capital home.

But this also raises an important question: what is the role of architects and architecture in the case of buildings as very specific products? (This is something that we have discussed before on the blog.) Is the job of the architect to create an interesting exterior shell that then gets populated on the inside by a specific product offering? Or is it even worse, is architecture sometimes just an "empty vessel" that gets interior design and a brand slapped onto it? In some cases and with some projects, it does feel this way.

I am a firm believer in the value of architecture and design. An "empty vessel" is not architecture. It is, well, an empty vessel. And that is not what I aim for in any of the projects that I'm involved in. Creativity, function, thoughtfulness and, yes, beauty, are all important. At the same time, I think this is a valuable debate. These sorts of questions are helpful in dissecting the architecture/development value chain. And so I would be interested in hearing your thoughts in the comment section below.

I've written about this before on the blog, but one of my qualms about architecture school was that it was too often taboo to talk about business and money. Why? Talking about and understanding the realities of the world doesn't have to mean that you're compromising on good design. Constraints are often good for design innovation. Similarly, I've always felt that personal finance should feature more prominently in schools at an early age. It should be considered a basic life skill.

In any event, I came across this tweet thread last night by Naval Ravikant talking about how to get rich (without getting lucky). It's from 2018, but the lessons -- and there are many -- obviously haven't changed. (For those of you who may not be familiar, Naval was the co-founder of AngelList and was an early stage investor in companies like Uber, Twitter, and Opendoor.)

When you see a headline like this it's perfectly normal for your bullshit radar to go off. (In fact, it is one of his points.) But this thread is not bullshit. It's about building wealth. Owning equity instead of renting out your time. Working hard. Taking a long view. Leveraging your time and skills. Understanding compound interest. Partnering with people of integrity. Being accountable. And becoming the best at what you do because you're pursuing genuine curiosity (among many other great points).

Here are a couple of his tweets. But I would encourage you to have a full read.

"Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler." I'm not exactly sure who this quote is attributed to -- maybe Einstein -- but regardless, I love it. I'm a big fan of simplicity.

I have a cookbook in my kitchen by Jamie Oliver where each recipe contains no more than 5 main ingredients. There's a picture of the 5 ingredients, a picture of the final product, and a short explanation about how to make it. It's my favorite cookbook (and also my only cookbook).

When I go to a restaurant I prefer to see a short menu rather than a long menu. Not only because it's easier to make decisions that way, but because I have little confidence that a restaurant with an interminable menu can make that many terrific dishes all at once.

And in architecture school, I remember being taught that every design project should really only have one principal idea. If you have two ideas, that's probably one too many. Distill it down. Clarify the idea that you're trying to communicate.

Because here's the thing about simplicity: it's usually more work to make things as simple as possible, but not simpler. It takes effort. It takes iterations. Whether that be in cooking, design, or in writing.

But once you've got it, simplicity is a beautiful thing. And it also greatly increases the chance that somebody will actually remember the message that you're trying to get across. Five ingredients. A short menu. And one architectural idea. That's all it might take.

Photo by Jakub Dziubak on Unsplash