My Story

 

April 2024 · 6 min read

Thanks to Kate for assisting me in writing this, as well as to all of my clients and friends who are part of my story.

Let's start from the beginning. Alexander's story, like many others, is one of missed opportunities, lessons learned, successes, failures, and the unwavering pursuit of a dream. However, amidst the chaos, there's a common thread: the quest to define how to create a home. There's no easy way to do this, as anyone who has tried to build anything will attest, facing struggles with nature or society. Actually, anyone who has watched TV knows that. This is Alexander's story.

With the opportunity to pursue higher education, Alexander was drawn to architecture, with its fascinating interplay of intellect and craftsmanship. It is a realm in which creativity must be balanced against manual precision. This tension continues to captivate him to this day. So he set out to become as individualistic and uncompromising an architect as Howard Roark from Ayn Rand's 1943 novel. To support himself while attending university, he worked every break in a boiler shop in a small country town two hours north of Adelaide, which is as hot and remote as it sounds. Some days, he'd work a full day before returning to the smelter to stow freight at the bottom of a cargo ship alongside Maori men twice his size. It was difficult work, and the men respected his work ethic, which was a good thing because they were not the type of guys you wanted to offend. Ultimately, it enabled him to focus on his studies throughout the term, which eventually paid off, as he received a prize for excellence and graduated top of his class.

Adelaide, with its safety and charm, was home for his early years. Born when the population was around 978,000, it grew by just over 100,000 people by the time he graduated from university. Add to that the 1990s recession, and Adelaide's construction, let alone architecture industry, had almost ground to a halt. This revealed his first blind spot: the realization that constructing anything meaningful demands a substantial amount of money, way more than you’d want.

Blessed with the ability to relocate, at 22 Alexander moved to Melbourne. Jumping from job to job, as is typical for a graduate architect, he found himself drawn to residential architecture. While the big work of the large firms appealed to his ego, he was not cut out for its internal politics. The work also felt distant and removed from the day-to-day of drawing homes or laying brick. What he really enjoyed was working with people on designs or on site, and even more so, listening to someone's vision and then creating it for them. So when, at 24, the client signed the contract and his first design hit the site, he was hooked.

The thrill of sketching a space on paper and then stepping into it is a sensation unmatched by virtual technologies. It's what draws many to architecture, yet it's also why they are often undervalued - everyone wants to try their hand at it and why not. What this means is the path to being a successful architect sadly lies in daring to be different, in rejecting replication for innovation. Take inspiration from the likes of Frank Lloyd Wright, whose unconventional designs challenged norms. Embrace the opportunity to break free from the ordinary and redefine the essence of architecture, crafting spaces that not only provide shelter but inspire. Even if likes Frank’s buildings they may leak a little.

So with a few designs complete, Alexander was flying high, then at 28, the GFC arrived, along with his son. This was his first experience with macroeconomics and fatherhood, and it was all very real. He discribes it as being in the surf, enjoying the waves, when suddenly you find yourself staring at a frightening volume of water. There is no getting around it; only through it. This was a difficult time, with long days and longer nights. But they adapted. Ultimately he started his own business working as an architect, contracting out to builders. Then soon enough he found himself as the in-house architect for a builder and his journey into construction had began.

Entering the inner sanctum of a builder's domain is a revelation, a realm where time is not the primary currency. Architects operate within the constraints of scarcity, every moment accounted for, while builders seemingly luxuriate in vast margins. Yet, beneath this surface lies a profound truth - their world is measured not in hours but in levels of risk. In the builder's world, investing an additional fortnight to vet prices, solidify orders, or scrutinize a new trade's craftsmanship is far preferable to the calamity of dismantling half a structure due to misplaced walls or the roof at the wrong pitch - true stories.

In Alexander's journey, a critical oversight by a plumber nearly spelled disaster and laid bare the heightened risks of architectural designs. Tradesmen are adept at replication; the majority of homes today emerge from the assembly lines of volume builders, where distinctions are scarce. Many tradesmen labor on the same houses day in, day out. The skilled ones gravitate towards more bespoke projects, showcasing their mastery, and gradually ascending to more and more custom work. Naturally, as a builder if you can work with a trade that is just starting out on custom work you have the opportunity to increase your margin. This was his mistake.

People often ask which of his houses he loves the most, and the truth is that they all rank equally. Every home reflects the client's preferences, location, and budget. What you see as the building often does not reflect the challenges that the project has overcome. But loving them all equally is a mistake when you are both the designer and the builder; it means you hire a new plumber without the necessary margin to cover a blunder. Call it hubris or ego, this lesson struck him hard on the first rainy day of winter.

They had been making good strides with this home during the dry months, the roof was on, walls clad and secure, and plastering underway, when Alexander received a distressing call from site. The preceding night's downpour had caused a leak and there was a huge amount of water inside - obviously not a place that you want water. The crew had ripped off some plaster to trace the origins of the breach. Turns out, a downpipe had come apart because the plumber "forgot" to seal the joints. It was an error of epic proportions which if it were not for the gods could have cost him everything.

It was also a realisation that Alexander's journey had only just begun, materials and labor had come alive. They didn't show up, were incorrect, cost more (rarely less), did things half-heartedly, forgot to do things, and broke things, all of which affected cash flow, irritated the client, and exposed him to liability. It was a daunting task, full of challenges that would put even the most experienced builders to the test, and he loved it. The dance between drawings and tradesmens hands, each presenting a lovely puzzle to solve that necessitates seeing the whole picture. An intricate web of challenges that constantly pushed his limits as he sought the illusive mantle of mastery.

However, just because he possessed the ability to do something didn't necessarily mean it was the right path for him. Pouring all his energy into building left him depleted, so at 35, with his lessons well-learned, he made the leap to work for a builder with aspirations of venturing into architectural projects. Over the course of several transformative years, they expanded their team from three to twelve, along with six licensed builders. On the surface, it appeared to be a perfect synergy—a marriage between an architectural firm and builders under one roof. However, in the effort to scale, the creative tensions between architect and builder had been lost, and then Covid hit.

It was this collective pause that caused Alexander to stand still and look at where they were going. He observed a business that resembled a large firm, delegating tasks, managing risk, and supervising less experienced employees or tradespeople. Again, inexperience, small margins, and internal politics, combined with a drive to grow because scale diversifies risk. The questions persisted, like a tune on repeat: Was this the sole blueprint for success in construction and architecture? Looking back, Alexander noticed a different path; a glimpse of success based on personal experience, a little history and people's nuances.


Architects are curious people who value their creative output. Builders are problem solvers; they are the ‘function’ to the architect's ‘form’. To steal insight from a former client, to do both is to remove the essential creative friction which creates better products. So, Alexander wondered what if? What if he replaced scale with personal? What if bigger and better were replaced by smaller and superior? He peeled back the layers until he reached the three key people: the owner-developer, the builder, and the architect. What he rediscovered was his version of an architect, the one he always wanted to be, one who was cooperative rather than individualistic, collaborative rather than uncompromising. Instead of rejecting replication for innovation, to say yes and… to efficiency … yes and to comfort…yes and.

So Three Hat Buildings was born. In a world where bigger is seen as better, Three Hat Buildings dares to be different. Success isn't measured in scale, but in the personal connections forged along the way. Founded on three pillars: consistency, accountability, and professionalism. Embodied in just three indispensable figures—your architect, your builder, and you.