Doing Small Things for Small People

When I began my architectural internship many years ago while an undergraduate at the University of Minnesota, I worked for a talented architect named Tom Gardner. His firm, Gardner Architecture, was located in Strawberry Point, Iowa, a small town in the northeast corner of the state. Like 79% of the members of the AIA, the firm had less than 10 staff. Tom was the sole architect. The firm is in a small barn that Tom renovated on his rural property — a really spectacular and inspiring place to practice architecture. Gardner Architecture developed quite the reputation for producing terrific buildings for small rural communities — libraries, fire stations, community centers, school additions, day care facilities, and visitor’s centers, just to name a few. The firm’s work might be described as simple or unassuming, much like the communities in which it practices. The spaces and buildings that the firm designed were not elaborate, they did not make you feel uncomfortable or make you question your surroundings. Rather, they made you feel comfortable, they were warm and welcoming. Tom had a unique ability to relate to clients from all walks of life who were sophisticated in their own ways but were involved in perhaps their only interaction with an architect in their lifetime. Tom once told me, “I do simple things for simple people. That is what architecture is about.”

I often think of Tom and my time with the firm, but upon receiving word this morning of Tom’s passing, at a much too young age, I have found myself again pausing to reflect on the lessons he taught me, and the lessons that our mentors taught us every day. Firms like Gardner Architecture create incredible insertions into the fabric of our small towns, creating communities that are enlivened and hopeful for their future. Working with communities of just a few thousand people — if that big — to raise funds for a new public library that might cost $1 million dollars. This may not seem like a lot of money, given the scale at which some practices work. But to a community of 2,000 people, that impact and sense of pride and accomplishment manifest in a building created an energy and hopefulness for the future.

Tom was also a firm believer in the power of the mentorship. He trusted his staff and challenged them to reach higher. My second day working at the firm he sent me to work with a group of community members who had formed a non-profit to create an African American historical and cultural museum. These hard-working men and women were passionate about preserving their heritage and yet for years had struggled to secure funding and support for their project. And Tom was their architect. They didn’t have the money to pay the firm, so we didn’t bill them. It wasn’t seen or thought of as pro-bono work — it was simply the right thing to do. During my two years working with the firm, this group became my client, and I worked with them on the most basic of ideas and struggles to strive toward success. I had Tom’s unwavering support and counsel. His passion for his work was remarkable.

Sometimes we get caught up in the struggles of the profession or the affect on globalization, issues of mergers and acquisitions or the effect of the economy on our practices. We wonder, dream, and hope for new models of practice in a sustainable, carbon-neutral world. And yet, there are small communities across our country — much less globally — that need the most basic of architectural interventions.

The loss of Tom to the communities he served is significant. And yet, he transformed the lives of thousands of people, one small project at a time. “Doing small things for small people. This is the power of architecture!” Thank you Tom for your mentorship - you will be missed.