 ICONIC BUILDING OF THE MONTH Designed by American architect Frank Lloyd Wright in 1934, Fallingwater is quite possibly the most famous private residence in the world. But why? Well, the unique design makes it look like the house stretches out over a 30ft waterfall, with no solid ground beneath it. This isn’t the case, obviously, but the innovative design captured everyone’s attention when it was finalized in 1939. It became famous instantly and is now a national historic landmark. It’s so cool you can even get a Lego version of the architectural masterpiece! |
 Interior view of Fallingwater Frank Lloyd Wright 1867-1959 |
| “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” ― John Lennon  |
 The Architecture of Understanding: Why Pre-Design Discovery Matters |
| Every architect has a story that shapes their approach to design. Mine began in the halls of Carnegie-Mellon University, where failure wasn’t just accepted – it was designed into the curriculum. Today, this unconventional education forms the foundation of Spurling Design’s unique Pre-Design Discovery process, a service that transforms how we create homes and spaces that truly serve our clients. Picture this: a first-year architecture student, eager and confident, walking into a classroom only to be deliberately guided toward failure. It sounds counterintuitive, doesn’t it? Yet this Socratic method of teaching – where professors guide students through their own discovery rather than simply providing answers – became the cornerstone of my architectural philosophy. The results of this approach were twofold: 1) it separated the committed from the casual. Those unwilling to endure the embarrassment of D grades quickly found other paths. 2) and more importantly, it embedded fundamental principles so deeply that they became inseparable from my design process. Our professors gave us short projects that took us on a journey through the essential components of architecture: floor, wall, roof/shelter, materials, and joints. Each week brought new challenges and, often, new failures. But after each attempt, our professor would begin with a simple question: “What have you learned?” I can tell you, the lessons learned through failure are the most memorable and impactful. The Diagram  One day, our professor told us this, “A building is not architecture unless it embodies ALL of the components of this diagram.” Then he ceremoniously drew a horizontal axis and a vertical axis and one by one placed the following words upon the diagram:First along the horizontal axis, then from bottom to top.We continued to ponder the diagram as we were assigned more short projects, especially because every day our professor would draw the diagram again. The Box Project Let me share a pivotal moment from those early days – the “Design and Build a Box” assignment. The instructions were deliberately vague, offering no context or purpose. Like many of my classmates, I initially missed the point entirely. I created a simple white cardboard box, about 7 inches square by 4 inches high, with a removable lid. It was just a box – until the next assignment revealed our oversight: “Now find an object for your box.” Working part-time at a cafeteria, I asked the cooks for a favor, “Can you make a cake that fits this box?” It transformed my ordinary box into something unexpected – a custom cake container. The judges, delighted by the surprise, left a plastic fork and a tip after sampling the cake. They noted that had I tied the box with traditional red and white baker’s string, it would have elevated the design further. The ultimate winner of this challenge created a masterpiece: a cherry wood box with a hinged top, lined with red velvet, containing a precious silver bracelet. Two very different boxes, each perfectly suited to its purpose, each creating a unique emotional journey for its user. A Box for Matchcars Years later, these lessons came full circle in an unexpected way. After working in architecture firms in Boston and Maine, I found myself back on our island, where the teacher of our two-room K-8 schoolhouse approached me about tutoring her seventh-grade son Sven, who had an interest in architecture. Without hesitation, I knew exactly where to begin: “Let’s have him design a box.”But this time, I approached the lesson differently. Instead of leaving the purpose undefined as my professor had done, I asked Sven to choose an object for his box. He decided to create storage for his matchcar collection. His initial design was practical – a grid of 48 compartments arranged in two levels. But something was missing.See the next page for an illustration. So far, we only have a drawing, thankfully. Through careful questioning, I guided Sven to discover the same principles I had learned years before. “How do you take the cars out? Do you simply turn the box upside down and dump them? How do cars move?” These questions led to a breakthrough moment. The final design maintained the same capacity but transformed the static storage box into something more – a design that celebrated the very nature of toy cars. The walls of the upper level folded down to create ramps, allowing each car to roll out of its compartment, doing what cars were meant to do: drive.  Eureka! Enlightenment! This is the box Sven built. It served him well. I saw Sven many years later and he was so grateful for our lessons. He said his son plays with the box of match cars now. It has turned out to be a well loved toy. This experience reinforced what I had learned at Carnegie-Mellon: true architecture isn’t just about creating spaces – it’s about understanding purpose, anticipating needs, and crafting experiences that celebrate the essential nature of things.These box lessons mirror how I approach home design. Just as Sven’s first box design was functional but static, many homes are built with all the right rooms but lack the flow and purpose that make a house truly livable. Just like transforming that simple storage box into an interactive toy that celebrated the cars’ natural movement, we can transform ordinary house plans into homes that celebrate how you really live. Think about it: A kitchen isn’t just a box for cooking – it should flow naturally into dining and living spaces, supporting the way families actually gather and interact. A mudroom isn’t just a box for shoes and coats – it should gracefully transition outdoor life to indoor living, perhaps with built-in storage that makes the morning rush smoother. A home office isn’t just a box for work – it should be designed to capture natural light at the right times of day, with views that inspire creativity and productivity. This is precisely why our Pre-Design Discovery process at Spurling Design is so essential. Just as I asked Sven those revealing questions about his cars – “How do they move? How will you use them?” – we ask our clients deeper questions about their daily lives: How do you start your mornings? Where do you gather as a family? How do you entertain? What’s currently frustrating about your living space? These questions often reveal solutions that wouldn’t be apparent from a standard architectural program. |
| Many overlook the vital Pre-Design Discovery, risking costly errors. At Spurling Design, we emphasize this essential step to lay a strong foundation for your project. Not investing the time for a full Pre-Design Discovery can be the most expensive decision you make during your building project. Start with a free clarity call to discuss your project and compatibility. Then, our Pre-Design Discovery examines your site, codes, and needs, creating a budget that fits your vision. This research summary will clarify your project’s direction, acting as your roadmap throughout your design and building process. (207)610-0109 or (207)244-7408 ask for Jeri.  |
