{Issue 3} Broken Elevators
I attended architecture school in New York City. One of my construction classes was held in a brand-new building designed by one of New York’s finest architects.
This building was a study in thoughtful design—every detail was deliberate. The deep exterior window sills offered seating for the public in Union Square, but they were slanted just enough to prevent anyone from staying too long. Inside, a bold, Koolhaas-inspired stairway diagrammed movement through the building. It was old and new New York at the same time—striking, functional art.
But there was one very ordinary, very human problem: the elevators didn’t work. Or they did, just not very well.
Every Tuesday, my classmates and I would race the clock to get to class. And every Tuesday, we’d wait. The elevator took forever to arrive, and when it finally did, only three of us could squeeze in, leaving the rest behind to wait what felt like forever for the next one. Because of this, and I’m speaking for my entire class here, we hated this building.
It didn’t matter that someone had painstakingly studied 100 shades of red to pick the perfect hue for the stairwell. It didn’t matter that the window sill “was in conversation” with the passerby. All we knew was that we needed to get to class, and the building with the sh*tty elevators was getting in our way.
This taught me an important lesson: I’m all about artistry and design. I love high-concept, high-end architecture. But when the basics don’t work, the experience is ruined. No one cares if they got their dream kitchen if the roof is leaking into it. Who wants a gorgeous office if the front door won’t latch?
Architecture should inspire, not frustrate. If you’re with me on this, let’s talk about creating spaces that are not just beautiful, but practical too. Book a discovery call at www.poiema-a.com, and let’s make sure you don’t end up hating your building.
Your Architect,
Lina
