The Professional Client

My edge, if you can call it that, is that I’m not really a designer. Or an engineer. Or an architect. My edge is that I’m none of those things.

My edge, if you can call it that, is that I’m not really a designer. Or an engineer. Or an architect. My edge is that I’m none of those things.

It’s a funny thing to admit as a co-founder of a design studio. People ask what my differentiator is, and the truth is a bit complicated. Am I a designer? Some would say yes, others no. I think I am, but not in the way you might expect. I’m not a brilliant graphic artist or a classically trained interior designer. But I understand the rules. I see the patterns. I approach design as a system—a framework for creative problem-solving.

To me, design is simply one of many toolsets you can deploy to solve a problem. Whether it’s a user experience issue solved with a value proposition canvas or a family’s need for more connection solved by redesigning their living space, it’s all about identifying a problem and applying a structured, creative process to find a solution. Design is just a particularly fun and elegant way of doing it. It’s a system for balancing light, for making textures and colors cohesive, for creating a feeling of relaxation, or for carving out more storage. It’s a method for solving human problems within the four walls of a home.

So, if I’m not the expert draftsman or the engineering whiz, what do I bring to the table?

My edge is that I am, essentially, a professional client.

The only real difference between me and the people who hire us is that I’ve been doing this for fifteen years. They’re often navigating this complex world for the first, second, or maybe third time. I’ve lost count of the dozens, maybe hundreds, of projects I’ve handled. My experience isn’t deep in one narrow specialty; it’s wide. I’ve seen this industry from almost every angle.

Most people in real estate or construction specialize. They do residential fit-outs, or commercial maintenance, or healthcare design, or just MEP. They’re on the property management side, the new-build side, or the renovation side. I’ve been the client—the owner, the one with skin in the game—across nearly all of them.

I’ve renovated my parents’ house (my first real project, where I knew less than most of our clients do now). I’ve built and fitted out medical clinics. I’ve rescued failed projects. I’ve designed budget offices and premium ones, importing furniture from overseas and fabricating it locally. I’ve had that imported furniture not fit through the elevator. I’ve had contractors go bankrupt, disappear, and even, in one memorable case, end up in jail mid-project. I’ve seen consultants skim off the top and subcontractors fail to perform. I’ve also seen a contractor screw up royally, then build an entire bathroom in a clinic overnight to fix his mistake—and I’ve worked with him ever since.

These experiences are my real education. They’re the little cuts, the bruises, the broken bones (figuratively, of course). They’re the rolled-up sleeves and dirty hands from just getting things done.

Because that’s what it all comes down to. It’s about seeing a project through, despite the turmoil, the roadblocks, and the fallen trees on the path. It’s about understanding the goal and navigating the chaos to reach it. I’ve been the person on the other side of the table, feeling the same anxieties and frustrations as our clients. I just happen to have a 15-year head start and a very long list of stories.

So, what’s my edge? It’s that I’ve lived the problems I now get paid to solve. I’m the client who’s seen it all.