‘I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person’.
― Walt Whitman, Song of Myself
I find it incredibly liberating to begin a piece with the wise words of someone with far greater intellect than myself. I relied on a similar process in my former life as an architect, particularly as a student. In this I refer to the idea of ‘precedent,’ one of the three great ‘Ps’ passed on to us alongside ‘place’ and ‘purpose’.
No one at university ever expected a truly original architectural idea every single time, and there was no shame in drawing inspiration from monuments past, hence the importance of precedent. Understand these three elements, and you are well on the way to resolving the design problem.
I always thought that ‘people’ might have been a great fourth addition, but perhaps this was already bound into ‘purpose’. It would not surprise me upon entering my old faculty building today to see more emphasis on ‘people’ in the teaching, particularly as our society (sometimes grudgingly) transitions to being a more inclusive one.
One of the last things I did in my former life was attend some training, which turned out to be one of the most memorable experiences of my whole career. It was all about leadership and how emotional intelligence can help you be a better communicator and leader in your organisation. It’s a great subject, but what it really boils down to is empathy – the ability to understand another person through a vicarious experience of their situation, feelings and culture.
Most architects I know have a very developed sense of empathy. It’s easy to think of it as a mandatory job prerequisite. Whether this comes naturally, through training or merely as a survival response in the modern world, it is impossible to imagine success in the profession without the ability to empathise with the client and end users. Of course, everyone in the game has a story to tell about a 5 p.m. desk-thumping tyrant who exhibited not a bit of emotional intelligence. But I’m sure these folks are going the way of the dinosaurs.
It has been a most interesting experience to work as an access consultant and remain involved with architecture but see things through a different lens. On a personal level, I view this as being a continuation of my education in the field, which is never-ending. An education in architecture is a wonderful thing to possess, and it equips you with a skillset to analyse and understand the workings of the world we live in and make it a better place.
As I’ve mentioned, most architects I know (and even those I don’t know) have a very developed sense of empathy, which is why I feel a little let down when, as an access consultant, I’m asked things like ‘What do we need to do to…’, as if everything is merely a reaction to the mandatory requirements ‘because it’s in the BCA’. I would much prefer and welcome such occasions when the questioning is more along the lines of ‘Do you think this is a good way to get everyone into the building, can we do it better’? This demonstrates some awareness and empathy for persons with disabilities.
I believe it is our duty as access consultants to tap into the empathetic abilities inherent in architects and help them understand that architecture, from the humblest abode to the most magnificent monuments, should be built for the delight of all citizens, regardless of their abilities.
When facing some resistance on an accessibility issue, I would like to ask the architect to picture themselves late in life, carrying one or even several disabilities and possibly living a life touched by grief. Have a conversation with your future self, picture yourself at that stage as your own client, and build an appreciation of your future needs and quality of life.
Should we live so long it will surely come to us all.
