Questions Before You Start

Earlier than most people think.

Most of the decisions that determine both the cost and the quality of a building are made before a single line is drawn: which plot, how much to build, for whom, and on what budget. That is where I can contribute most; by the drawing stage, there is far less room to manoeuvre.

A client leased a space to open a café. After the lease was signed it emerged that no alcohol licence could be obtained at that address. The space was attractive, the rent was reasonable and the design was feasible; but the business model did not work. This was not a problem design could solve — it was a question that should have been asked before signing.

Questions like these are not expensive. They become expensive when they go unasked.

Yes. In fact this is one of the most useful conversations we can have.

The plot is the hardest decision in a project to undo. The design can change, the materials can change, the budget can be reworked; once the wrong plot has been bought, there is very little that can be done. Two parcels at the same price can support entirely different buildings.

What has to be checked is clear: the permitted floor area ratio, the setback distances, the storey limit, the slope and orientation of the land, neighbouring development, access and ground conditions.

I have had to tell a client who came to me with a plot already bought that the brief they wanted could not be accommodated on that parcel. The floor area ratio was sufficient, but the setbacks and slope together made the intended use impossible. The only option was to scale back the brief.

Not buying a plot is a decision too — and, taken in time, the most profitable one.

No, the first conversation is free.

Let me also say what it is not: it is not a design session or preliminary study. The initial conversation is free; the moment work begins on your project, it becomes a professional service and is treated as such.

In the conversation, we discuss your project, the stage you are at and the few things that are non-negotiable for you. I explain how the process works, what is decided at each stage, and what the service does and does not cover. There is no commitment, and you do not need to rush into a decision.

I would rather you left the conversation with clarity than with a drawing. Leaving knowing the next step is worth far more than leaving with a sketch.

Coming unprepared is not a problem; but everything you bring makes the conversation more concrete.

Useful, if you have them: the title deed and zoning status document, the location of the plot or the address of the existing building, earlier drawings, the budget range you have in mind and your target schedule.

There is another kind of preparation, not a document but at least as useful: a few sentences on how you want to live or work. How many people will use it, how the day passes, what bothers you most at the moment, which habit you will not give up. These tell me far more than a list of square metres.

Bring examples you like, and ones you do not. Work moves faster with a client who knows what they do not want.

Come even if none of it is ready. Working out the brief together is already the first step.

The process unfolds in five stages; each one prepares the decisions needed for the next.

Concept and design decisions. Context, needs and possibilities are understood; the project’s idea and direction become clear. What is sought here is not detail but the right direction.

Architectural design. Space, proportion and materiality take shape; decisions on massing and light are made. The character of the building is set at this stage.

Design approval. The design is reviewed together; expectations and scope are clarified. This is a threshold: what follows is technical work.

Technical design. Technical drawings and coordination are carried out; a complete, buildable set is prepared.

Construction and site supervision. From drawing to reality; quality and detailing are monitored on site.

The point of this sequence is not to make the process heavier, but to make clear from the outset what will be discussed and when.

A single number would be misleading, because three separate clocks run at the same time.

The first is the time needed for design and technical design; it depends on scale and scope and is largely predictable. The second is the official process; this varies by municipality and by how complete the submission is, and cannot be accelerated unilaterally. The third is decision time — yours.

In most projects, the third is decisive. When approval is delayed at the end of a stage, the schedule shifts with it, because every task that follows depends on that decision.

So we define the time stage by stage from the outset: an estimate for each stage and an approval schedule tied to it. That way, when a delay occurs, where it occurred is not a matter of debate.

A realistic schedule always costs less than an optimistic one.

Reporting is not ad hoc; it follows the stages. Each stage closes with a presentation and a decision point; at that point you see what you have, which decisions have been made and what comes next.

In between, not every draft is shared. An unfinished drawing usually produces anxiety rather than information. That said, I want you to know at any moment which stage the project is at; the period that unsettles a client most is the one with no news for weeks.

Decisions are put in writing. This is not about distrust; it is a way of avoiding the “is that what we agreed?” conversation months later.

The only thing I ask of you is to make decisions at the decision points. Projects are delayed not by technical work, but by questions left unresolved.

A revision is not a fault in the process; it is how a design matures.

What matters is not how many revisions there are, but when they are requested. The same change means something entirely different at each stage: moving a room during concept design is a conversation; during technical design, the same change means revising the structural and services drawings as well; after the building permit, it becomes an official process; on site, it means work being taken out and rebuilt.

A single late change to a wet room can require the services shaft to move as well, turning a small change into a cost many times greater than the change itself. The change is small; the timing is expensive.

This is why each stage closes with an approval. The approval is not there to restrict you; it is there so that the next piece of work rests on solid ground.

Changing your mind is not a fault; changing it late is a cost. I tell you when each decision will be closed before that point arrives.

That is not a shortcoming; it is the starting point.

Most clients do not know what they want, and they do not need to. What is known is more fundamental: what bothers them, how they imagine things working, what they cannot give up. Turning that uncertainty into a brief is my job.

So I ask about use, not square metres. I worked with a dentist who wanted a 500 m² clinic. Once we had talked through patient flow, the number of treatment units operating at the same time, and the waiting and sterilisation arrangements, it became clear that 200 m² was enough. The difference was not only construction cost; it was rent, heating and cleaning, paid every month.

I try not to produce a single unnecessary square metre. Excess is paid for once when it is built, and every month while it is used.

I do not expect you to describe the design. Tell me about your life or your work; turning that into a design is my job.

Because a ready-made design does not know your plot.

Most of what makes a building good has to do with context: the slope and orientation of the land, the movement of the sun through the day, the prevailing wind, where the view opens, neighbouring development, the entrance level, the zoning limits. A ready-made design knows none of this; it is a copy of decisions made somewhere else, for someone else.

In practice, it is rarely built exactly as it stands. The work needed to bring it into compliance, adapt it to the plot and resolve it technically often approaches the effort of designing a project from scratch. What emerges is a compromise that fully belongs nowhere.

The apparent saving is temporary too. The heating costs of a badly oriented building, unusable dead space and renovations carried out within a few years can quickly exceed the initial difference.

A ready-made design looks inexpensive; you pay its real cost in use.

One that still works well years later.

When I look at a building I weigh four things together: aesthetics, durability, function and context. When one comes forward at the expense of the others the result falls short. A building that is only beautiful can be unusable; a building that is only functional is no pleasure to be in.

The most reliable measure of this is time. A building should be judged not by the photograph taken on its first day but by its condition in its fifth year: how the materials have aged, whether the plan makes use difficult, whether it can still be maintained, whether it still answers the same need.

For me, a successful project is one its users can inhabit without having to notice it. The light is in the right place, movement is effortless, and the space does its job without calling attention to itself.

Being impressive is easy. The difficult part is still being right years later.

Simple, respectful of its context, and meant to last.

Simplicity, for me, is not a style but a discipline: removing what is not needed and getting the rest right. What enriches a building is not the number of elements but a small number of decisions made well. I avoid anything added in order to attract attention.

Context is the starting point. The same brief should produce different buildings on two different plots. Climate, topography, neighbours and the way a place is used are not constraints that hold a project back; they are the data that make it particular.

With materials, I prefer what has been proven. I use a new material where a mistake can be reversed; in a critical part of the building, I choose what has been tested. This is not resistance to innovation; it is about not passing that risk on to the client.

Projects need not resemble one another. What they share is the approach, not the result.

Yes — but as a range, not as a single figure.

The most honest answer at an early stage is a wide range, which narrows as decisions become clearer. At concept stage, a rough estimate based on building type and size is possible; as decisions on materials, systems and details are made, the estimate moves closer to reality; at tender stage, actual prices emerge.

The main factors that set the range are the size and type of the building, ground and foundation conditions, the structural system, the facade and roof solution, the quality of the mechanical and electrical systems, and the standard of the interior finishes. Finishes are usually the most variable item.

There is also a factor outside our control: the market. Construction costs move with exchange rates, materials and labour; on projects that run for a long time this has to be allowed for.

If I have to tell you that your budget is not enough, you will hear it in the first months, not on site.

Then we build the process the other way round.

The budget does not have to be clear from the outset; but there does have to be an upper limit. Most clients find it hard to name a figure, yet say “I cannot go above this amount” quite easily. That is enough to begin.

If an upper limit is known, the brief is built around it: what size is realistic, what level of quality can be sustained, and which wishes cannot all be met at once. This is not about shrinking your ambitions; it is about putting them into a workable order.

If nothing is known, we build a range first: an estimate drawn from buildings of a similar scale, plus an allowance for official fees, engineering services and unforeseen costs. The figure that comes out is sometimes higher than expected; learning that before design begins is the best outcome.

The riskiest client is not the one who does not know their budget; it is the one who finds out on site that it was not enough.

Looked at directly, working with an architect adds a professional fee. Looked at as a whole, the opposite is often true.

Much of the construction cost is determined at the drawing stage: the size of the building, its structural system, facade area and services strategy. When these decisions are made well, unnecessary square metres, structure and construction work are eliminated; when they are made badly, every excess is paid for on site.

The second point is the completeness of the drawings. If the details are unresolved, decisions have to be made on site. Decisions made on site are made in a hurry, with incomplete information and usually in the most expensive way.

Even so, it would not be right for me to give a guarantee. Architectural services do not promise to reduce cost; they make it more predictable where your money will go.

I consider protecting the client’s money part of my job — but I do it by removing what is unnecessary, not by discounting.

Yes — but phasing only works if it is planned from the start.

A project split into phases after the fact usually means paying twice. The reason is simple: foundations, the structural system, services shafts and main connections are among the hardest decisions to reverse. If the part to be added later was not anticipated, the second phase may only be possible through demolition and strengthening.

Planned from the start, it is a sound method. The project is designed as a whole, the permit process is set up accordingly, and construction is divided so that each phase is complete and usable in itself.

On commercial projects this makes renovation possible without closing the business. In houses, the items most suited to deferral are usually the finishes and the landscaping.

There is a cost: phased construction takes longer and is slightly more expensive overall. In return, it makes cash flow manageable.

Phasing is not a way of saving money; it is a choice about timing.

Yes. Design and construction are separate services; you can commission the design alone.

This is a natural choice for clients who work with their own team, for landowners and for construction companies. The design, the technical design and the work required for the building permit are completed, the file is handed over to you, and construction proceeds under your management.

I should also say that this has a consequence: the question of who checks the gap between the drawings and the finished building remains open. The quality of a building is not determined by drawings alone; it is shaped by hundreds of small decisions made on site. If no one checks how details are built, whether specified materials are replaced with equivalents, or how junctions are resolved, a gap opens between the design and the result.

For that reason I would suggest at least a limited supervision service at the critical stages. This is not continuous site management; it is inspection at particular milestones.

The decision is yours; just make it knowing what you are choosing.

Yes. Your own contractor or your own tradespeople can carry out the work.

The architect who prepares the design does not have to take on the construction as well. Many clients have a team they trust and have worked with before; that can be one of the most valuable parts of the process. In that case the drawings are prepared clearly enough for that team to build from.

There is one thing to keep in mind: doing the work and checking that it is being carried out in accordance with the drawings are two separate jobs. When both sit with the same person, the client loses an independent means of control. When construction is carried out by someone else, it is in your interest for architectural supervision to remain independent.

I can also help you choose a contractor. Checking whether the tenders genuinely cover the same work is often more important than comparing the difference in price.

The lowest tender is usually the one that covers the least.

Yes. Handover is not the end of the relationship.

The first year of use is when the design meets reality. The questions that arise during this period usually fall into three groups: those related to getting used to the building, defects arising from construction, and changes in needs that become apparent over time.

It is important to distinguish between them, because the responsible party changes. Construction defects are the contractor’s responsibility and, where applicable, fall under the warranty; material-related problems belong to the manufacturer; a shortcoming arising from the design is mine. Making that distinction correctly makes it easier to pursue the right remedy.

The project archive is kept as well. Years later, when a renovation, an extension or a sale comes up, documents showing how the building was actually built are a considerable help.

Where the work ends in the contract and where it really ends are not always the same. I stand behind what I do; a building does not finish when it is handed over — it starts being used.

The documents required vary according to the type of project and the municipality responsible for it; the core list, however, is the same for most projects.

For new buildings the following are usually required: the title deed record, the zoning status document, the setting-out and benchmarked survey sketch (aplikasyon ve röperli kroki), the level and section certificate (kot-kesit belgesi) and the geotechnical survey report. Some are obtained from the municipality, others from surveying engineers.

If we are working on an existing building, add to these the earlier drawings, the building permit and occupancy certificates, the condominium title status and a measured survey of the building as it stands. Not being able to find the earlier drawings is common; in that case the building is measured on site and documented again.

On commercial projects, further requirements tied to the use permit come into play: fire safety, accessibility and the conditions attached to the business operating licence.

The list may look long, but you do not need to gather everything on the first day. I will tell you which document is needed when the time comes.

As the author of the architectural project, my role is to prepare it in accordance with the regulations and compile the submission required for the building permit.

There is a distinction here that is often confused. The architect who prepares the project, the technical supervisor (fenni mesul) responsible for oversight during construction, the site manager who runs day-to-day operations on site, and the building inspection body carrying out the statutory checks are separate roles. They carry different responsibilities and are often different people. Who holds each role should be set out in writing from the start.

The structural, mechanical and electrical designs are prepared by the responsible professionals in each discipline. Ensuring that they are coordinated with the architecture and do not conflict with one another is a separate task.

It is normal for the municipality to ask for revisions, and it does not always mean a mistake; differences in how the regulations are interpreted and applied are a common reason.

The most expensive thing in this process is not ignorance; it is leaving unclear who is responsible for what.

Yes. For me, visualisation is not a service added later for presentation; it is a design tool.

I work through the model, and the images are produced from that model. The practical benefit is this: what you see is not a decorative drawing but the project itself. When a decision changes in the model it changes in the image. What you are shown and what will be built are the same thing.

The aim is not to impress you, but to help you make decisions. Reading the size, light and proportions of a space from a plan is not easy for everyone; a three-dimensional view makes those decisions tangible.

One caution is necessary: an image is not identical to reality. The light is shown under ideal conditions, the surroundings are simplified and materials appear flawless; in the finished building, weather, ageing and use come into play.

The purpose of an image is not to persuade you; it is to make decisions easier.

No — and the reason is not the quality of the projects but the fit.

The first thing I ask before taking on a project is simple: will I be able to give it the time and attention it deserves? There is a limit to how many projects can be carried at once. Beyond that limit, the result is not more work but less care.

The second is whether expectations align. Some clients want the drawings delivered quickly; others want the process to be developed together. Both are legitimate, but they are not the same way of working. Clarifying expectations at the outset prevents friction months later.

If I think I am not the right fit, I say so plainly, and where I can I point you in the right direction.

Turning a job down is better than sharing a bad result.

I have not yet undertaken a project abroad. Projects outside Istanbul, however, are a normal part of how I work.

I work in Istanbul, and a significant proportion of my projects to date have been in other cities. I therefore know from experience what a process managed at a distance requires.

Most design and technical design work is unaffected by distance; meetings are held online and presentations are shared. There are two points when being there in person is essential. The first is seeing the plot or existing building on site — photographs and maps do not convey the scale of a place. The second is during construction; these visits are limited in number but planned around critical milestones.

A project abroad would also require an understanding of local regulations and collaboration with local professionals.

Distance does not make the process difficult; lack of planning does.

The fee is determined by the scope of the project and the service stages you commission.

The main factors affecting it are these: the size and type of the building, the difficulty of the plot (slope, constraints, an existing building), the level of detail in the design and the extent of site supervision. Two projects of the same floor area can differ markedly on these factors.

The proposal states clearly both which services are included and which are separate items. The main items usually handled separately are structural, mechanical and electrical design fees, the geotechnical survey, surveying and setting-out work, municipal fees and the building inspection fee. Knowing these from the outset makes budget planning realistic.

The situations that give rise to additional fees are defined at the outset too: an increase in scope, and a change to a decision that has already been approved.

To avoid surprises, it is more important to define the scope in writing than the price alone.

It would not be right for me to answer that. Instead, let me tell you what to look at when making that decision.

The most reliable measure of an architect is not what they promise, but how they behave when priorities conflict. Ask: when the budget is tight, what do they give up? When the client’s wishes conflict with what they believe is right, what do they do? When a mistake comes to light, how do they respond?

Here are my answers. If the budget is tight, I reduce the scope, not the quality; I would rather do less than do it worse. If a mistake is mine, I say so and take responsibility for putting it right. I do not claim to know what I do not know.

These are claims you can test; you can hold me to them. That is how I would like you to judge me.

Architecture is not a drawing service; it is a process of making the right decisions.

What you pay for is not sheets of drawings. It is the alternatives ruled out on the way to those drawings, the decisions made in the right order, and the problems you will not encounter on site. Much of a project’s quality lies in what was not done.

The practical conclusion is this: design is not where you should rush. Two weeks saved in design can return as two months on site.

There is one more point: a good project is not produced by one side alone. What you tell me, the decisions you make and the feedback you provide on time all directly shape the result.

Not everything has to be clear at the start. Beginning with uncertainty is normal; ignoring it is not.