A short conversation to establish what the project might be, whether it's viable, and whether you can work together.
Most people apologise in the first thirty seconds. For not knowing what they want, for ringing too early, for taking up my time. It is such a consistent opening that I have come to expect it, and it tells me something useful — the call is being understood as a sales call, in which the person holding the information holds the advantage.
It is not that. Twenty minutes on the phone is where both of us find out whether this should go any further, and it is the cheapest place either of us will ever find that out. I am listening for whether the project is viable, whether the budget and the ambition are in the same postcode, and whether I am the right person for it. You should be listening for whether you can stand two years of talking to me about your money and your house.
Nothing is committed on that call. That is the entire point of it.
Twenty minutes on the phone is also your chance to work out that you don't want to work with me.
A twenty-minute call filters out the projects that shouldn't proceed and identifies the ones that should — before either party has spent anything. It also establishes scope, site and rough budget, which is most of what's needed to price the work properly.
Chemistry. The Institute is blunt that an interview 'addresses one issue that cannot be covered in brochures — the chemistry between you and the prospective architect.' You are about to spend two years in close conversation with this person about your money and your home.
The first contact is a quote request. Price is the only variable compared, because it's the only one made legible. Fit — the thing that will actually determine whether the project is bearable — never gets assessed at all.
Twenty minutes, and three things I am listening for: your story, your practical situation, and what you are picturing architecturally. I will ask about your Saturday mornings — how the house is actually used, rather than how it was meant to be. And I will ask whether you are imagining a hundred-thousand-dollar project or a five-hundred-thousand-dollar one, because the answer changes what I would advise. Most people tell me afterwards that nobody had asked them those questions before.
Practice varies, and it is fair to ask directly when you ring. A short introductory phone call is very commonly free — mine runs twenty minutes and there is no charge. What is increasingly charged for is the first visit to your house, because that is where the thinking happens — walking the rooms, reading the site, telling you what is possible. Mine is a fixed fee and it is credited against the first invoice if a project follows. If someone offers to come to your house for nothing, that is not a problem. Just understand you are being sold to, and you will get about an hour of it.
If it is a phone call, expect questions rather than a pitch. Mine runs about twenty minutes across three areas. The human side — who lives there, what a Saturday morning actually looks like in the house. The practical side — the address, the age of the house, whether you own it, whether there is a deadline. And the architectural picture — what you think you want and what is driving it. You should come off that call knowing whether the project is viable and roughly what range of build cost and fee you are in. If money never comes up, treat that as a warning rather than as tact.
Ten are worth asking anyone, including me. Are you registered, and what is your number. Who does the work — you, or someone else in the office. How do you charge, and what does each stage cost. What is not included in that fee. Have you worked on a house like mine, in a suburb like mine. What do you think this should cost to build. What would you do if the builder's price came back over budget. How many options will I see, and what happens if I like none of them. How involved are you once construction starts. And: can I speak to someone whose project you finished.
There is no such thing as too early. There is very much such a thing as too late. The expensive calls are the ones that come after a builder has already priced something, or after a contract of sale has been signed on a block that turns out not to allow what the buyer had in mind. The cheapest call is the one where you have a feeling and no plan. If you are worried you have nothing concrete to say, describe the problem rather than the solution — where the light stops, which room nobody uses, what happens at six o'clock. That is more useful to me than a sketch.
Very little, and do not let preparing become a reason to delay. The address is the single most useful thing, because it lets me look at the zoning, the overlays and the flood mapping before we speak. Beyond that: roughly when the house was built, whether it has been worked on before, whether there is a date you are working towards, and a budget figure. The budget is the one people withhold. Withholding it does not protect you — it just means the first design you are shown may be one you cannot build.
If you would rather start small, the First Sketch Session is two hours at your place. You keep the sketches, and there is no obligation afterwards.