I started drawing at a young age, a hobby that naturally developed into a broader interest in art and craft. At the age of 5, assisted by my mother, I entered an Easter drawing competition. I already had a clear idea what my entry would be. A detached house, not differing too greatly from the standard: symmetrical, hipped roof, one central front door, 4 windows…but with one key difference. This one would have a bat hanging from the gutter. Following a family holiday in Limoges, France, I was introduced to bats in an outhouse of my uncle’s summer house, and they captured my fascination. Every house I would draw from this point forward would have a bat hanging from the gutter.

Growing up in a rural setting, scarcity of available entertainment and of materials drove resourceful responses in my childhood pursuits. My greatest resource at that time was time, and the perceived abundance of it. Without time pressure, my inner designer was able to flourish through experimentation and creation.

During my teenage years, disillusioned with art class in school (and everything else in the world), I grew towards an education in the physical sciences. The problem for me was that, in a school art class,  there was never enough time to relax and create, and every new week would see us galloping on to a completely different project, a different medium, leaving a trail of unfinished masterpieces that I would never find time to complete. On the other hand, I began to enjoy the physical sciences for their directness, their desire to resolve problems, the wealth of knowledge to enlighten and inspire, and the ability to bring us closer to an acceptable version of the truth.

My choice to further my education in the field of Architecture was born out of a love for both art and science, for craft and creation, a thirst for knowledge, and a desire to operate in a field which draws from a diverse range of subjects. Through the study the architecture of a particular place, you open up windows into an understanding of native customs and culture; a vital tool for designing in sensitive environments. In addition, Architecture has helped me rediscover my passion for art and craft, and the complex combination of subjects has greatly benefitted my conceptual and imaginative thinking.

In truth, my first experience of commercial time pressure was not a happy one, and took some getting used to. Gone was the time when time was abundant. Externally-imposed deadlines brought compromise through a lack of time, and with it a new driver for creation. Instead of a place relaxation to contemplate and create, the architectural practice was a place of adrenaline and coffee. Experience was everything. It was your kit of tools. This was a not a place to ponder and experiment, it was a place to assemble pre-conceived ideas and present them.

As years have passed, I have come to realise that time pressure itself is inevitable, sometimes even beneficial, and so is the compromise it brings. It is the responsibility of the designer to determine the scale of that compromise; to accommodate where compromise is necessary, and recognise where unnecessary concession brings unhealthy and unhappy compromise. Nowadays, many thoughtless commercial time pressures hinder the imagination and stifle creation, and the result is increasingly visible in our built environment. It is this that I seek to avoid.

The solution, as ever, is a balance. The inevitable compromise will result, whatever it may be. However, until that compromise is reached, the responsible designer must fight unnecessary concessions to achieve the best result possible.

As Kevin Kelly once wrote, the creator must ‘seek persistent disequilibrium’:

“Neither constancy nor relentless change will support a creation. [Creation] is persistent disequilibrium – a continuous state of surfing forever on the edge between never stopping but never falling.”

Kevin Kelly, 1999