Steve Perce co-founded bldg.collective with his college friend Chris Gray in 2009. Over the last fifteen years, the Boulder, CO-based architectural firm became synonymous with cutting-edge modern residential architecture, earning praise from clients nationwide. We sat down with Steve to discuss his journey to becoming a celebrated modern architect.
My parents did numerous house remodels so I was around construction projects from kitchen remodels to house extensions all the time. Our home in Northern California was a mid-century modern style built in the late 1950s or early 1960s, a post-and-beam structure with a flat roof and large floor-to-ceiling windows. That simple aesthetic stuck with me.
I went to CU Boulder—largely because I wanted to ski—and signed up for environmental design classes. It didn't take long - I fell in love with studios, building models, and doing technical drawings. The more I learned about it, the more I loved it. I got a part-time job at a local Boulder-based architectural firm and started building super intricate basswood models for them.
After graduation, I moved to Jackson, Wyoming to become a ski bum. The town had many residential projects under construction so in my free time I would often tour them. One evening a person pulled up and asked what I was doing there. We ended up talking about architecture. He knew the firm I had worked for in Boulder and offered to introduce me to the architect who designed his house. This led to a summer internship at a local firm in Jackson.
Back in Boulder I learned GIS software and worked for a geologist for a few years. I interviewed at several architectural studios, but they only wanted to hire people with a master's degree. I had no choice but to get my master's at CU Denver. I accrued enough internship hours to be able to take my licensing exam shortly after. From that point on I tried to find my own work which eventually led to founding bldg.collective.
My co-founder Chris and I met at grad school. He had an MBA before getting his master's in architecture. Architects are typically very creative but horrible at management so I felt Chris' business background would be a great fit for our architecture startup. Most of our work experience was in custom single-family residential so it was natural for us to stick with what we knew best.
You'll always see a divide between architectural education and practice. My first job out of school was with Arch11, a wonderful firm led by E.J. Meade and James Trewitt. Working with them was Michael Folwell who is now at Studio B, Chuck McBride who is now tenured faculty in Texas, and myself. I got to work with this talented group of people who dared to push boundaries and not do the normal things.
Chuck has a brilliant mind. He gave us a free two-year immersive course on postmodernism, explaining why brand-new homes still have gables despite the technological advances in modern construction, or why gables continue to represent this romantic iconography about rural America. E.J, James, Mike & Chuck put me on the path I'm now.
With a smaller size site, the broad strokes of the design are somewhat easier because there are more restrictions. A typical city lot in Boulder is 50'x125', one side faces the street, the other side faces the alleyway, there's a dominant view and you have all these overlapping restrictions.
A young family may ask for three bedrooms upstairs and one bedroom on the main level, a bonus room, and a basement. Much of the program is influenced by who they are and their lifestyle. Your broad strokes and larger moves are laid down pretty quickly and you move on to the smaller nuances, materiality, connections, and sunlight.
Larger sites are significantly more challenging even though you may have fewer restrictions. In school, they teach you things like "learn the wind direction" but often it's hard to understand these conditions unless you spend a lot of time on the site. This is where having an engaged client plays a huge role. If we can mine some nuggets about the site from the client early on, it helps us understand what the initial gesture could be.
At bldg.collective we've developed a robust discovery process. We use several Google web forms to ask the future client: On a 1-10 scale, how important is a garden to you, how many bedrooms and bathrooms are you looking for, and so on. From this quick synopsis, we drill down into how long they plan to live there. Is it 1-3 years, 3-7 years, 7-15 years? Their answer to this question will influence how they make decisions later on. We also ask about privacy in the primary suite: "Do you want it to be very private, or you don't care?" The answer can inform where the primary suite is situated, how big the windows are, and where we place them relative to the site. The solution is different for an urban infill lot versus a rural lot.
The reality of residential architecture clients is that 99% of clients have never been involved in the design process previously. They don't know how to talk about it, they may be projecting a lifestyle they think they should have or want to have without understanding what they truly need or want. So, we try to sit down with the client, talk about their actual lifestyle, and search for key insights.
Recently, we had one couple with four kids and the wife said: "Basically, I need to be able to stand in my kitchen, roll a ball of socks, and hit a kid with it if they start doing something they shouldn't." That line provided a critical insight for us — the mom needs to be the air traffic controller so her kitchen will not be tucked to one side of the house, it will be in the center.
Rarely someone would ask us to reinvent their life. On a basic level, there's not a ton of variation in how people live. If a client asks for something crazy it is our job to ask: Are you sure about that? Because there's no going back. One of our clients summarized these aspirations brilliantly: he called it the home of unfulfilled dreams. When we feel the client requests are off track, we steer conversations to money and budget.
Everyone has a budget, it doesn't matter how many zeros there are. If the home keeps getting bigger,, it will require more money. So let's talk about what's truly important and start removing the nice-to-haves. Our clients are successful people or entrepreneurs — they understand financial plans and budgets even if they don't understand architecture.
Ultimately, it comes down to understanding what they value. We summarize it with clients this way: A is more expensive than B. There's no wrong choice, both are quality. I can tell you why A is more expensive than B but if you don't understand the value, then you should go with option B. There is a reason why Dornbracht plumbing fixtures are at a certain price point and Brizo is at a different price point. If you don't understand why Dornbracht is more expensive, install a Brizo. We can apply this reasoning to windows, exterior materials, everything.
We absolutely prefer clients who are engaged. Our work requires a level of trust, they have to know we're trying to make the best decisions for them with the design and their money.
The hardest part is when the client does not trust themselves to make the right decision and they don't trust us to make the right decision. When that happens, we face delays and customers have a hard time understanding how they are involved in creating those delays through revising ideas. Suddenly you cannot control costs and it becomes frustrating for all parties. Trusting us to make decisions for you is critical, it lets us move the project forward and have a good grip on costs. Sure, we can always revisit decisions but with the common understanding that these revisions will come at a cost — time, money, or both.
Clients don't have an architectural degree. When you leave college, you think you engage them as peers. You want to see clients excited about phenomenal transparency, layering of space, and tectonics (aesthetic aspects of structure, construction, and materials). They won't be. So, I've learned to talk with clients about the emotion of spaces, and how spaces can be very evocative of qualities. "That space looks cozy or airy" is what clients say to express their inner emotions about an architectural concept.
Also, images matter a great deal. When we present our first ideas and diagrammatic analysis of the program and where the house should be sited, it's too abstract for most people. We must include some precedent images or evocative photos to convey the concept in an easy-to-understand form.
We're always pairing both. If you only show the evocative precedent images from five unrelated projects — one is an entry, another is a kitchen, courtyard, bedroom, powder room — a client would tell you: I like it all, let's bolt it together. That doesn't work.
Similarly, you can't just present these beautiful abstract diagrams with colored rectangles, because they do not look like a house yet. We try to have both — the analysis, which keeps the key parameters like square footage in check, and the evocative imagery, which conveys the emotional and artistic properties of the future residence.
We use these 3D wireframe models to vet non-architectural inputs. For example, the house may need a dormer window proportional to the rest of the house but later on the client asks for more headspace. As the design keeps evolving and responding to non-architectural inputs, these 3D wireframe models help validate that the initial idea remains intact.
Oftentimes architecture is taught to students as if you form an a priori idea which becomes a diagram which becomes the structure. For us the diagram is more of a test framework, it provides design guardrails. We create these diagrams in the middle or toward the end of the project. We ask the question: “Does the diagram prove the concept we are working towards, or does it not?”
Not as much. The software we use like Revit, AutoCAD, or Archicad has gotten so advanced in 3D renderings that it's easier to show the building that way. Younger people are used to looking at computer-generated 3D images through gaming so it's easy for them to understand what we're showing.
Our interior design starts with built-ins and cabinetry, lighting, plumbing, or tile selection. The desire to integrate interior design with architecture as a core value proposition of bldg.collective came out of the challenges we had with interior designers early on. Often they weren't proficient in any software, weren't producing drawings and their ideas conflicted with our designs. We turned it into an opportunity to provide holistic delivery for our clients. We don't do this for every project, we still collaborate closely with amazing external designers, but we are very selective.
I believe we're going to see some changes in material palettes. Look at veneers for cabinets and millwork for example — it's getting harder and harder to find good quality white oak veneer. Rift-sawn white oak was a good mid-price point material, readily available, with a good graining pattern. But that changed when oak became a popular choice for mass-production homes.
Interestingly, HPL laminates imitating textured wood veneers are starting to look very realistic. But what excites me even more is that modern laminates provide a broader range of options. We can emphasize the distinctive design properties of laminates beyond the traditional wood veneer look or combine them. It will be interesting to see what happens with synthetic laminates in the next 5-10 years, I think the future is promising.
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