We are a communicative species. When one decides to work in the subject area of architecture, one realises quite quickly what two main factors contribute to whether one is successful or not. Success in this sense means: as an architecture student, getting recognition for one’s idea or not, and in a professional context, it determines whether one gets the job or not.
Firstly, it requires the creative talent of each individual. However, one quickly realises that the best idea is only as good as the creative mind’s ability to convey it appropriately and compellingly.
Presentations as an Architecture Student
Each university or college that educates architecture students builds its programme individually, but they all share a common consensus: presentation culture. The study structure at my home university, the Technical University in Munich, was as follows: Each semester is divided between the semester project and accompanying elective modules (modules that deepen the topic) and, on the other hand, compulsory modules that serve general education.
The distribution of effort was always the same: the main focus was on the semester project. Based on an architectural design task, the semester consisted of four main presentations. The respective professors were usually only present on the pinup dates while their assistants held the weekly meetings.
We understood early on that grading worked as follows: our design was only as good as the associated presentation to the professor and his assessment of the performance based on this “freeze-frame” of the design process. One can critically question the usefulness of this method, but this is not the subject of this essay. However, in my opinion, this “hierarchical time management” also offered its advantages. While the assignment’s conceptual elaboration was the most important and exciting part of the semester for us, we paused the thought process and worked on the presentation boards plans every two to three weeks.
Courting for Approval?
To evaluate the grading in a subjective field like architecture as objectively as possible, the opinion of third parties helps. For this reason, a guest critic was invited to the final critiques of the semester projects each semester. Architects, professors and artists came and offered to give their unbiased opinion on the project. The presentations were usually structured as follows: Each group had a time frame to present the project’s current status.
The professor’s input or critique then followed the presentation. It was essential to fit the essence of the concept and elaborating the last weeks into the given time frame, for the professor to provide new critical input rather than ask comprehension questions. On the one hand, this “polishing up” of the plans was enormous fun for design-oriented students, while others doubted the function of this “courting” for the “wow effects”.
But one thing is an indispensable fact: the better, more legible, more beautiful the students’ plans, the easier it is for the viewer or professor to follow the thought and design process and, usually equally, the higher the appreciation of the effort the students have put into it.
The Worst-Case Scenario
I remember one final critique, an experience I later considered frightening but amusing, but above all: very enlightening and defining. At the beginning of each presentation day, the assistants hung the list with the order of the presentation in front of the studio entrance. In doing so, the chair wanted to make sure that each group was ready to be the first group on the day of the presentation and prepared accordingly.
The presentations began, and our group was one of the last. Opinions differ as to whether this is an advantage or disadvantage. You have more time to rehearse the prepared text and avoid mistakes made by the other groups. Still, the criticism becomes harsher towards the end because general topics have already been addressed several times, it gets late, and the patience and enthusiasm seem to be waning.
In this case, it was a disadvantage that we were so late. We realised after the first round of criticism: the guest critic doesn’t mince his words, he expects a lot and criticises even more. It was our turn; my fellow student started. He presented the concept development; I then continued elaborating the floor plans.
That’s when the guest critic’s phone rang. And he answered it. And he continued talking on the phone, starting with: “No, you’re not interrupting, what’s up?” Unsettled by this unexpected interruption, we paused the presentation, but with a dismissive hand gesture, we were ordered to continue. When it was my turn to speak, the professor was still on the phone. I tried to block out his loud phone call and concentrate on my speech instead. Halfway through the presentation, he finally hung up the phone without apologising, and the presentation continued as if nothing had happened.
In retrospect, we always laugh when we think about that presentation. It was a worst-case scenario. The final presentation, which was our final grade. Stage fright, because so much depended on the performance. Distraction, because we were not taken seriously.
But one thing I can say for sure: I had no more problems presenting afterwards. It does something to you when you have to concentrate on finishing your presentation as efficiently as possible, even though it is evident that the addressee is not listening.
In the end, whatever worst-case scenario you played out in your mind, living through one helps you put its actual significance into place.
