Mea culpa: Disputes from the architect's point of view

Recently I decided to take a little mental holiday from being an arbitrator, and take a look at building buildings from the architect’s perspective. Then I compared that with the builder’s perspective. And when I came to look at all the everyday fighting over claims, extensions of time, variations and contract bumf with an architect’s eyes, I began to shrink down in my seat. It all looked ridiculous. You architects must be ever such patient folk. The last thing you want to happen to your beloved building is us. Or rather, the thing that the builders of buildings thrive on: rows.

What the architect wants from a building is a million miles from what the builder and the money blokes want. In fact, the “wants” can often completely fail to coincide. The architect must patiently put up with the process that actually gets his building built, but only gets any of what he wants if the building work is carried out with at least a smidgen of interest in architecture.

Builders actually want to do a superb job and give the architect and their customer something to be proud of. But money gets in the way

Take an example. St Mary’s Garden Hall in Wimbledon is a charming building said to “explore a language of the unrealised potential of emergent modernism in a simple composition … which draws much of its power through its striking setting against a bucolic churchyard with its sculptural monumental fragments”. This is not the fancy language of some quirky artist but the aims and hopes of an architect that is trying to fit the building into the landscape. This sort of sensitive yet important intention would have got lost if the lads on site were busy with a row; it would never have worked if the contractor was fretting about extension of time.

Another example is an exquisite office development in Vernon Street, a row of brick terraces butted up against the art deco monolith of Olympia. Architectural critic Edwin Heathcote described Terry Pawson’s structure thus: “I have seen few better commercial buildings in a city that has almost entirely built its office stock with shocking poor results.” And yours truly has visited this beautiful little building. The finish, the builder’s work, the architect’s work, is superb. That quality surely cannot be achieved unless there is harmony on site.

Credit: Simone Lia

It is perhaps unfair of me to say that the builder’s objective is entirely different to the architect. Builders actually want to do a superb job and give the architect and its client something to be proud of. But life in construction gets in the way. Shall we be frank? Money gets in the way. Making a profit as a builder, contractor or subcontractor, is an uphill struggle. The architect does not drive down the price at the front end; that’s up to the builder. And then its objectives become dominated by simply coming through unscathed. Oh and it is assailed by temptations too … to exploit a turn of events here and there. Meanwhile, the architect is seeking to create a building where the materials, work and quality fits with the world around.

And of course the whole lot goes wrong when the work itself is not up to snuff or the materials are slightly off-colour. Pawson explains the “narrative” of architecture as a progression that involves moving through a building. “The sequence of spaces, their order, their scale, material and quality begin to tell an emotional story that may have a beginning, a middle and an end.” Do you see how important the role of the builder is to ensure that the material contains no bumps, scratches or dents? Do you see how easy it is on a cold, mucky, dusty and damp building site for the emotional story of the building to be given an awful beginning, middle and end? Then there’s all the potential for cock-ups with contract documents, letters placing whinges on record, quarrelling about interim accounts, looking over your shoulder at liquidated and ascertained damages. The story of the building gets totally lost. I sink further into my chair. I fear I get in the way of good building, of architecture. I almost apologise to Pawson.

I fear I get in the way of good building, of architecture. I almost apologise to Terry Pawson

But wait. What builders eventually produce can be the triumphant finishing flourish to an architect’s original conception. In order to tell their tale, architects just need builders who love their job. We just can’t do it for free.