Tell me about your gnomes…

Architecture + Decision Making

Oct 9

Written By Jeffrey Hemphill

ESP INSIGHT 02

Tell Me About Your Gnomes

Sometimes the strangest things exist because nobody stopped to ask why.

Every building has things we assume belong there.

Rooms. Hallways. Doors. Equipment. Storage. Features. Entire pieces of a building program.

Some have an obvious purpose.

Others are there because they've always been there.

And occasionally, nobody really knows why they're there at all.

I call those Gnomes.

Ever Heard Michael McIntyre Talk About Silent Letters?

If you've ever heard comedian Michael McIntyre talk about silent letters in the English language, you probably know where this is going.

The B in doubt.

The W in wrong.

The K in knowledge.

The B in debt.

And eventually, the G in gnome.

McIntyre's bit is funny because it points out something most of us rarely stop to question.

We learned these words. We accepted how they're spelled. And we moved on.

But while I was laughing at it, my architect brain went somewhere else.

I started thinking about how often we do exactly the same thing with buildings.

We include something because it's expected.

Because we've always had one.

Because that's how the last building worked.

Because somebody said we needed it.

Or simply because nobody stopped long enough to ask:

Why is that there?

Michael McIntyre was talking about language.

But it made me realize:

Buildings have silent letters too.

And that's where the idea of finding the Gnomes in a project came from.

Every Project Has the Potential for a Gnome

A Gnome can be almost anything.

A room.

A hallway.

A second entrance.

An oversized lobby.

A storage area.

A feature someone saw in another building.

A piece of equipment.

A design requirement carried over from an older facility.

Even an entire part of a building program.

The important thing isn't what it is.

The important question is:

Why is it there?

Sometimes there is a very good answer.

Sometimes the answer is:

“We've always had one.”

Or:

“I thought we needed it.”

Or:

“That's how I've seen it done before.”

Those answers deserve another question.

Why?

A Gnome Isn't Necessarily a Bad Idea

This is where the idea becomes important.

Finding the Gnomes in a project isn't an exercise in eliminating everything unusual, expensive, or inefficient.

Architecture isn't about making every building as small or inexpensive as possible.

It's about making intentional decisions.

Something that seems unnecessary to one person may create tremendous value for someone else.

I had a residential client who wanted a small door connecting the garage directly to the pantry.

And when I say small, I mean small—approximately 2'-0" wide by 3'-0" tall.

It wasn't another entrance into the house.

It was a grocery door.

Think of a dog door or cat door—but for groceries.

The idea was simple.

Pull into the garage. Take the groceries out of the vehicle. Place them through the small door directly into the pantry. Then walk inside and put everything away.

Someone else might look at that little door on the drawings and ask:

Why in the world is that there?

For another homeowner, it might be completely unnecessary.

For this homeowner, it solved a small, everyday problem in exactly the way they wanted their home to work.

One person's Gnome may be another person's great idea.

The difference is purpose.

Ask Why Before You Decide What Belongs

Imagine I had looked at that grocery door and immediately said:

“You don't need that.”

I would have been making the decision based on how I thought the house should work.

That's not the architect's job.

The better response is:

Tell me why you want it.

Once I understand the reason, we can evaluate the decision.

What does it accomplish?

Who does it serve?

What does it cost?

Does it create another problem somewhere else?

Is there a better way to accomplish the same thing?

And ultimately:

Does the value it creates justify the investment required to create it?

Sometimes the answer will be yes.

Sometimes it will be no.

But now we're making a decision based on purpose rather than assumption.

Small Decisions Become Expensive Buildings

A single unnecessary feature probably won't destroy a project.

The problem is what happens when there are dozens—or hundreds—of them.

Every room requires square footage.

Every square foot requires structure.

It requires a roof.

Exterior walls.

Heating and cooling.

Lighting.

Electrical systems.

Finishes.

Maintenance.

And eventually replacement.

A decision that looks small on a floor plan can create costs that continue for the life of the building.

That's why questioning the Gnomes isn't simply about reducing construction cost.

It's about understanding what the project is actually investing in.

If something is consuming resources, it should be contributing something in return.

“We've Always Done It This Way” Can Be Expensive

Existing organizations can be particularly vulnerable to Gnomes.

A company may have operated from the same type of building for decades.

Departments may have certain spaces because they've always had them.

Operational procedures may exist because they made sense twenty years ago.

Then a new building or renovation begins, and those assumptions quietly migrate into the new project.

Nobody intentionally decided to recreate them.

They simply came along for the ride.

That's when an architect should be willing to ask:

Why?

Not because the existing approach is necessarily wrong.

Because a new project creates an opportunity to decide whether it is still right.

Yesterday's solution shouldn't automatically become tomorrow's requirement.

The Goal Isn't Less. The Goal Is Better.

This isn't minimalism.

And it isn't value engineering disguised as design philosophy.

The goal isn't to remove things until the project becomes cheaper.

The goal is to understand which investments actually make the building better at serving its purpose.

Sometimes that means eliminating something.

Sometimes it means changing something.

And sometimes it means defending a strange little grocery door because it genuinely improves someone's daily life.

That's the difference between reducing cost and creating value.

Every Line on Paper Represents a Decision

At ESP Architects, we believe:

Every line on paper represents a decision.

A wall exists for a reason.

A doorway exists for a reason.

A room has its size for a reason.

A building sits where it does for a reason.

At least, it should.

Because every one of those decisions eventually becomes something someone has to pay to build, operate, maintain, repair, or replace.

That's why architecture shouldn't begin with drawing.

It should begin with questions.

What are we trying to accomplish?

Who are we trying to serve?

Why do we need this?

What value does it create?

And occasionally: