Practice to Perspective

A year can pass quickly when you step away from a profession that once shaped your daily life. After more than four decades in architecture—spanning time in Vancouver, B.C., Los Angeles, and the last 36 years in Eugene—my first year of retirement has brought a noticeable shift in pace and a new perspective. No longer immersed in the press of daily responsibilities, I view the built environment with fresh curiosity about its ongoing transformation. 

As time passes, I feel a natural loosening of ties to the habits and cycles of practice. I no longer attend client meetings, visit construction sites, or monitor the latest changes to codes or design tools. My understanding of advancements in building technology or digital workflows isn’t as sharp as it once was. That distance—expected, even healthy—marks the shift from practitioner to observer. While my experience remains a deep well to draw from, I recognize that I’m no longer on the front lines of an ever-evolving field. 

In place of that immediacy, I’ve gained a clearer view of the profession from the outside. Anymore, I don't face the pressures of production deadlines, fee proposals, or unexpected crises that are part of architectural practice. Today’s architects navigate a complex landscape: integrating AI-assisted design processes, addressing climate imperatives, and managing an increasingly intricate web of regulations. I’m glad to leave those challenges to the next generation. My career unfolded during a time when optimism often felt possible, and collaboration—whether in person or, later, virtual—frequently brought teams together on complex projects. That sense of teamwork was one of the most fulfilling parts of the profession. 

Stepping back has allowed me to notice how the built environment continues to change. I’ve been paying closer attention to how Eugene’s newest developments are shaping its identity, or how Springfield balances growth with preserving its character. I've written about the rise of large student housing projects along Franklin Boulevard—towering 11- or 12-story buildings with small, punched windows and a scale that departs significantly from past patterns. These structures represent a type of urban form I wouldn’t have predicted when I first arrived in Eugene. At the time, I hadn’t imagined this trajectory for the area. But now, observing as a resident rather than a practitioner, I see them as part of a broader progression that I continue to follow with interest. 

My curiosity about architecture remains strong in retirement. I find myself engaging more deeply with the discipline’s fundamental questions: What is architecture truly about? What should it aim to achieve? I don’t expect to uncover new answers or truths that others haven’t already explored. But I’m interested in better understanding what architecture means at its core, drawing on the insights of the many thinkers who have tackled these questions before me. Retirement has given me the time to read, reflect, and consider what matters most—the ideals that architecture should strive to uphold. 

This blog remains an outlet for those thoughts. I may no longer be part of the profession’s daily rhythm, but I continue to think about the forces that shape our communities, and the values architects ought to bring to that work. What role should architecture play in our collective future? I may not have the answer, but I know enough to ask. And I’m grateful for the freedom to do so from a place of perspective and quiet engagement.