My leap into design school wasn't graceful. In fact, embarrassingly, it was a friend's enthusiastic shove. I remember one particular phone call “ You’re creative, even in the way you decorate slam books and choose to paint your own shoes” she said. Few months later, day one in design school felt delusional. “Invisible lines,” the Head of the Design Department boomed, “you gotta see them where others don't.” My logic-wired brain shrieked. When you’re someone who comes from zero creative and pure science background, such statements may push you to question your mentors’ stance (and sanity). Two days in, I confessed to Dad that I wanted to shift to business studies. However, a pep talk and fear of a large fee made me continue the interior design program. Somewhere along the way, something shifted, and I learned to enjoy and navigate the unfamiliar waters of design school.
High school and graduation, for many, are periods of self-discovery and unlearning, where we figure our true desires, sometimes deviating from our chosen fields of study. Education goes beyond textbooks and experts; it encompasses the subtleties of the hows and whys of learning, the spaces we learn in, the folks we meet, the experiences that color our world. Design school was a bootcamp for many life lessons that I continue to apply every day, and here I share a few.
Decoding the Client
If you are dealing with a client that says "I know not what I want, but I know what I don't", I admire you for not switching careers. The first life lesson I learned was, embrace the inevitable conundrum. Start with a moment of understanding: acknowledge the uncertainty with a brief pause or open-ended question. Many times, we tend to forget that our clients are not our patrons, but collaborators. We need to take the initiative to understand their lifestyle, social, economic and cultural, and even communicative limitations. So, go beyond simple questions; consider conducting a mini "ethnographic study" by observing their routines and preferences. You'll not only decipher their "don'ts" but also surprise them with solutions that exceed their expectations and forge a stronger client-architect bond.
Learning to decipher clients translated well into my personal relationships. I listen better, ask deeper questions, and build connections, even when faced with uncertainty. From a person who was not so keen on conversations, I no longer shy away from it. It took design school to teach me this, but the most rewarding projects, both in work and life, are often built on embracing unknowns and navigating them with empathy and collaboration.
Beyond Words but Lost in Translation
Regardless of the client's initial understanding, simplifying your language to basic, jargon-free terms is crucial. When aiming for a green building, clearly explain the environmental benefits and potential impacts. Misconceptions like picturing a giant, parrot-green Capitol Building can be easily avoided through transparent communication. Talk! A parapet isn't a feathered bird, and a cornice is distinct from a corniche (even though their names sound similar). Leave no room for ambiguity; use visuals, analogies, and plain language to ensure everyone is on the same page. I no longer panic when I am told “ we need to talk”. Talk– it's the bridge between minds, the foundation of strong relationships. I've learned to bridge gaps by using straightforward language, visual aids, and relatable analogies to ensure clarity and alignment in both my professional and personal interactions.
Greener Good & the Ripple Effect
Over time, design school wasn't just about drawing blueprints (from the infamous invisible lines) or mastering software (which I rarely used over my career considering specialists, and of course, hello AI!). It was a relentless dissection of how design impacts the world. We weren't just crafting spaces, we were shaping experiences, questioning norms, and advocating for inclusivity. We wrestled with sustainability, explored eco-materials, and designed for accessibility. Every project felt like a puzzle, where social responsibility and environmental impact were integral pieces. It dawned on me that I don’t want to design glamorous interiors, but create spaces for the homeless and marginalized. Design school didn't just teach me to create; it ignited a passion to create responsibly, leaving the world a little better with every project I touch. This went beyond my professional alignment to choosing eco-friendly products at home, adopting green practices within my personal life and being part of DEI communities to initiate conversations and change.
Navigating Disagreement: The Power of ‘No’
My final year in design school was a blur. I remember moving from mentor to mentor, trying to get my dissertation topic approved. Let’s just say the 13th time's a charm. After that many iterations, and much introspection, I realized I'd fallen into a trap. Design, at its core, thrives on individual expression, not strict formulas. I should have been defending my vision with conviction, not chasing elusive approvals. Although I learned this the hard way, it made me embrace my creative voice, confident in my choices, and stay unbound by people’s expectations. It's crucial to strike a balance between embracing constructive criticism and standing firm in one's principles and origins, and this takes continuous honing and practicing, over multiple realms of life.
Evolution, Not Erasure
Design school wasn't a pressure cooker just for ideas; it was a crucible for egos as well. Clinging too tightly to an initial concept, no matter how brilliant, was a recipe for creative stagnation. This applies to every aspect of life, professional or personal. As I write this article, I dread the editing process and revisions that this piece would be subjected to. However, evolution and adaptation comes with the territory, more so in anything that involves creativity and skill. Navigate through feedback with grace and resilience, and keep a poker face if not a smile. This was a reminder that growth often springs from the willingness to evolve while staying true to one's foundational principles. This was a life lesson- beyond art boards and moodboards. From navigating a career change to managing family dynamics, growth often comes through embracing feedback and adapting our approach. The key is to stay rooted in our core values while remaining open to new perspectives.
The Myth of Flawlessness
During my initial days in the design program, I had no doubts that my relentless pursuit for precision will keep me at a consistent top spot. However, getting a C in my first assignment was painful for a forever straight A student. In design school, the pursuit of perfection wasn't just a creative hurdle; it mirrored a fear of inadequacy and failure. I learned to let go of perfectionism and appreciate the power of a well-designed solution that meets the client's needs. We chased flawless forms, pixel-perfect layouts, in design, on our social media, and in organizing social events that would make Pinterest weep with shame. But design, like life, is an eternal dance of imperfection. I understood that perfectionism wasn’t a badge of honor, but a self-imposed, avoidable standard that was slowing me down. Design school didn't just teach me to create; it taught me to heal, and find wholeness in the imperfections that make me human.
The biggest takeaway from design school is not principles of design, ergonomics or semiotics, but confidence and people skills. It's an ironic twist, considering the demanding studio hours and limited social interaction that comes with such a demanding course. Yet, success in this field depends on effectively navigating relationships with yourself, and clients, collaborators, and stakeholders. So, while those late nights fueled by coffee may seem far removed from client meetings, the communication skills and empathy you develop during those intense design sprints become invaluable assets for life.
