Architects Share Simple Moves That Protect Design Intent When Construction Pushes Back

Too hard to build means that for this one particular thing on the plan, you need a better understanding from us regarding what we consider to be the most important point in the overall design scheme. A typical example would be for a parking lot, where the essence is one particular view (like entering a parking lot), a particular flow (like a water runoff course), or a particular look at the area (say a 30-foot walkway)—so you can pick the most critical one and focus there rather than trying to get your head around the whole plan. Then quote it based upon that one particular item on the plan, with cost and timeline. In this situation, I would say a $6,000 and three-day difference will close out any negotiation. Most likely, I'd win it because this is an 'idea' battle, not a financial one.

The typical trade-up is to brick. For example, a design may call for bringing the building brick from the parking area, across the driveway as a paver design. The actual problem here would involve digging 8 inches for a sand bed, laying bricks, followed by having a 40,000-pound dump truck rolling them around and dislodging them within 18 months. This could be replaced by installing pre-formed thermoplastic pavers within the same brick pattern, at the rate of torching them up in a single two-hour session (and not too great in August...but hey...) with the exact same pattern, colour and manufacturer for all your trucks and dumpers driving over them within the same day.

I'm Jerry Poon, PE, a California-licensed electrical engineer and principal engineer at Red Dog Engineering. I work directly with contractors during design and construction, so constructability issues come up pretty regularly.

When a contractor tells me something is too difficult or slow to build, I try to find out what exactly makes it too difficult for construction. I try to separate the part of the design that actually matters from the particular way we happened to draw it. I don't care about defending a line on a drawing. If we can change the routing, mounting, or installation method while maintaining code compliance, performance, access, and the architect's intent, that's usually the better solution.

On one project, the planned electrical routing around an equipment area was creating a difficult installation and would have made future access to the equipment worse. Instead of forcing the contractor to build around it, we shifted the routing before the equipment was installed. The electrical performance and required clearances stayed intact, and visually nothing important changed. It was simply easier to build and easier to maintain afterward.

That's generally how I approach these situations: protect the intent, not necessarily the original detail, and maintain flexibility. A good set of drawings gets you to the right result; it shouldn't make construction harder just because that was the first way somebody drew it.

When a contractor tells me a key detail is too difficult or time-consuming to build, I first figure out what part of that detail actually carries the design idea, then look for a simpler way to execute it without sacrificing that element. On one Los Angeles pool renovation, we had designed a raised spa with a long, clean spillway into the pool, but the original configuration required complicated structural work and additional waterproofing that would have slowed the project considerably.

Instead of eliminating or shortening the spillway, we adjusted the spa elevation and simplified the supporting structure so the same uninterrupted sheet of water remained the focal point. It reduced the amount of forming and waterproofing work while preserving what homeowners would actually see and experience. My rule on live projects is to be flexible about how something is built, but much less flexible about why it was designed that way in the first place.

When a contractor challenges a detail, I separate the architectural effect from the original means of producing it. I ask them to identify the exact constraint, whether it is tolerance, sequencing, labour, access or material availability, and propose alternatives against clear non-negotiables. One effective change is replacing a site-built timber screen with prefabricated repeating panels. By aligning concealed panel joints with the facade rhythm and preserving the timber, spacing, depth and shadow line, the screen still reads as one continuous element while becoming faster, safer and easier to replace. I do not accept 'simplify it' as the brief. The design team must define what people should still see and experience, then give the builder room to improve how that result is assembled.

I generally design knowing what I have designed is possible; however, if one of my guys challenges the idea, then we look for a solution to achieve the same design. I would say a big one that has come up quite a lot is creating ceiling space and height in basements by redirecting heat vent pipes. I have asked my HVAC specialist for a clean, no-bulkhead ceiling, and of course, at first his response was that it is impossible. This is where I, as the project manager, have to push my guys, using my own knowledge and persuasion as a tool to look for a solution and to get the job done. A project we completed in Richmond Hill, which had very low ceilings in a sunken area, called for 9 heat vents to be fully modified from the ceiling to achieve an additional foot of ceiling height. By the end, we managed to run all of the pipes on the side walls, and we saved that additional foot without fail. It was a masterpiece to say the least. This is one example.

At Studio Canavalia, I try not to approach those moments as a battle between design and construction. Usually, if a contractor tells me something is going to be overly complicated, costly, or time-consuming to execute, my first question is: what is the idea behind this detail that we absolutely don't want to lose? Once we identify that, there is often more than one way to get there.

On a recent project, we designed a series of architectural openings that were originally intended to be fully curved. Once construction began, the contractor raised concerns about the complexity and time involved in framing and finishing them consistently. Rather than eliminate the curves altogether, we simplified the geometry, keeping the softness and repetition that were central to the design while making the openings much more straightforward to build.

I think good design has to survive the realities of construction. Being willing to adjust the execution without compromising the intention behind it is often what makes the finished space feel both considered and effortless.