Architects need to overcome their reluctance towards the business aspects of their profession, writes Gareth Stapleton in our Performance Review series.
Architects are educated to address spatial challenges. Their focus is on buildings, not businesses. The profession is steeped in the myth of the solitary genius, toiling late into the night, envisioning future cities.
It’s an appealing image—but a misleading one. Architectural practices rarely fail due to a lack of creativity. More often, they falter because they are poorly managed.
The field of architecture is grappling with an identity crisis. Too many studios operate as though standard business principles do not apply to them. They still bill by the hour, reminisce about outdated fee scales, and survive on razor-thin profit margins. Many invest heavily in competitions that drain both talent and resources.
If we want architecture to endure, we must abandon the notion that “business” is a dirty word
Burnout has become normalized. Fees remain unacceptably low. While architecture holds significant cultural value, this far outweighs its economic stability—a contradiction that threatens to erode the profession.
For the discipline to thrive, we must drop the illusion that business principles undermine creativity. Managing a practice isn’t a mundane chore; it is itself a design project. A business model is simply another form of drawing.
Client relationships are details to be thoughtfully developed. The culture of a practice is a design undertaking that demands imagination, courage, and discipline.
Entrepreneurship should be reclaimed—not as a buzzword, but as an approach rooted in purpose, client focus, and the creation of real value.
Leading practices today do more than design buildings; they build the frameworks that enable design—developing business models, services, and cultures resilient enough to weather economic downturns, social changes, and environmental challenges.
When asked about their purpose, many architects reply vaguely: “To make good buildings.” That answer falls short. Purpose is not just a marketing slogan. It shapes who chooses to work with you, who stays, and how you make an impact. Without a clear purpose, practices lose direction; with it, they lead the way.
Alejandro Aravena showed that process can carry as much meaning as the finished product in his incremental housing projects. HawkinsBrown took things further, weaving social purpose into their business structure by becoming an employee-owned trust and a B Corp. These are not minor details—purpose is at the core of strategic direction.
Another major issue is the profession’s fixation on individual projects: one client, one building, one fee. This is a fragile model. When economic downturns hit, projects stall, or political events intervene, practices are left vulnerable.
Entrepreneurial firms avoid waiting passively for the next commission. Instead, they diversify their activities.
If architects could earn more producing cardboard boxes, they should
BIG established BIG Ideas to develop products, tools, and intellectual property alongside their architectural work. Assemble operates across art, design, film, and regeneration, building strength through diverse activities. Snøhetta’s practice spans architecture, landscape, interiors, and graphics, dissolving boundaries and increasing resilience.
These strategies are not distractions; they redefine what architectural practice can be.
Too frequently, clients are seen as obstacles—meddlers, philistines, or cost-cutters. This adversarial mindset is harmful. Architecture is fundamentally a service profession. Ignoring this reality puts practices at risk.
The most effective firms change the conversation. Snøhetta, for instance, is known as much for its collaborative approach as for its design. Its strongest work emerges from listening, empathy, and co-creation.
