Don't Wait: Emily Abruzzo on Lessons Learned, Empathy, and Good Partners
By Julia Gamolina
Emily Abruzzo is a partner in Abruzzo Bodziak Architects (ABA), a New York-based practice with experience ranging from civic and cultural projects to homes and exhibitions. She received her Bachelor of Arts from Columbia College and her Master of Architecture from Princeton University, where she also received a Certificate in Media and Modernity and was a Fellow at The Center for Arts and Cultural Policy Studies. She is a Critic at the Yale School of Architecture, where she supports the Equality in Design student group. She is a founding editor and publisher of 306090 Books, a MacDowell Fellow, and a 2020 Public Director on the AIA New York Board.
ABA has been recognized with Architectural Record’s Design Vanguard award, the Architectural League Prize for Young Architects and Designers, Curbed’s Groundbreaker award, and AIA New Practices New York, and it is included in the New York City Department of Design & Construction’s Design Excellence Program. In her interview with Julia, Emily talks about various lessons taken from firms she’s worked for, advising young architects not to wait.
JG: How did your interest in architecture first develop? What did you learn about yourself in studying it?
EA: A college classmate of mine, who was helping me think about possible undergraduate majors, identified that I liked both mathematics and art, and suggested I take an architecture studio. I did, and though the culture of “architecture” initially rubbed me the wrong way, I enjoyed the work.
I know now that this formula, “math plus art equals architecture”, is not quite true, but the idea worked. The culture thing, however, persists, and to this day, a lot of the things about the profession continue to concern me: discourse-within-an-echo-chamber, an unwillingness to tackle lowest-bidder-ism, the related disappearance of free and accessible quality civic spaces, the mind-boggling persistence of archi-speak in some circles, and many other things. In my work and teaching, I try to chip away at these things.
How did you get your start in the field?
While I was an undergraduate, my parents recommended I get a summer internship like many of my peers, to give the profession a test-run. I didn’t know much about various firms, but I sent letters to New York architects whose names appeared on the few books I had — for example: the four living “New York Five,” for lack of a frame of reference. I ended up at Eisenman Architects, working on the Monument to the Murdered Jews of Europe. The experience showed me the excitement of participating in work on the world stage and working with diverse international team members toward common goals, but also lessons that I’ve taken forward to today, not all positive, which frame how I run my practice.
Walk me through your career steps chronologically, focusing on significant moments and key milestones.
As school continued I interned several more times, working on McKim, Mead, White restorations at Acheson Doyle Partners the following year, to try something completely different, and later for LTL Architects, and SHoP.
Even with these experiences, I went into graduate school with more of an academic mindset, thinking of myself more as a writer about architecture than a practitioner of it, and as such placed a lot of emphasis on theory and writing in those years, eventually building to a year-long research project on museums and retail spaces heavy on cultural policy. I loved that work, but by doing it I realized I’d rather be drawing than writing.
It’s funny - at some point, I realized I’d rather be writing than drawing.
[Laughs] Right. By learning this, I started to refocus on what kind of design work to pursue. My graduate thesis was about museums, but also landscape to a large degree, and after graduate school I worked briefly for Jane Harrison and David Turnbull, planning an off-grid artist residency for the California desert; then for a couple of years at the office of Diana Balmori, a landscape designer. I like to think that experience frames the way I design today, not only because of my work with landscape, but also because in that reverse role I was a consultant to architects, such as Zaha Hadid’s and Caesar Pelli’s offices. When I returned to work focused in architecture, it was for Deborah Berke Partners, where I was for several years, followed by Steven Harris Architects, after which I joined my partner, Gerald Bodziak, in Abruzzo Bodziak Architects (ABA).
Concurrently with much of this, I was co-editing an independent bi-annual architecture journal (306090) which became an annual book series, and which initiated a series of talks and exhibitions over its thirteen years of existence, including acting as sponsor of the American Pavilion at the 2010 Venice Architecture Biennale. And, for several years before the official start of ABA, I was working with Gerald, and occasionally others, on ideas projects and competition entries.
Where are you in your career today?
It is an interesting moment. Our practice is working with more and more exciting clients, and we’re increasingly doing public-facing work, including projects that focus on public equity by creating new types of civic spaces. At the same time, the teaching that I do, mainly on design and materials, is becoming more in line with our practice in terms of goals and processes. The two feed each other through research and production.
Looking back at it all, what have been the biggest challenges?
Finding the right partners can take time. I am referring not only to clients, but also subconsultants, employees, etc. And people, and good communication, are what drive this profession. Without good partners, it can be difficult to amass a record of built work and to push your work forward. Related to this is the catch-22 of needing to prove capability in a given project type before being awarded said project type – and to my understanding this is a particularly American problem. It is always interesting to learn about other fields such as tech and fashion where youth is seen as an asset, only to then reflect on the architectural profession, where the really “good” projects don’t typically come for those under 50 (or 60, or 70).
I’ve never really subscribed to that belief, and I hope this changed. On the flipside, what have been the highlights?
Meeting people that have been in spaces we’ve designed, and hearing them report back!
Who are you admiring right now and why?
All those who continue to keep the world going and keep things moving forward right now (despite the global pandemic) inspire me. This is not just healthcare and essential workers, but also the librarians that continue to process books, the postal workers who punctuate our day, the contractors who continue to build, my students who continue to learn, and our clients, who continue to dream with us as we plan for new futures.
What is the impact you’d like to have in/on the world? What is your core mission? What does success mean to you?
I’m thinking a lot about empathy these days. It is one of the things incumbent on us as architects, and it underscores how we work at our office: we like to think we frame people’s participation in the creation of their experiences. If the global politics of late tell us anything, it’s that empathy is both sorely needed, but also a challenge, given bitter divides. As architects, we know that most people need and want the same basic things, but understanding begins with listening.
Finally, what advice do you have for those starting their career? Would your advice be any different for women?
Architecture can be a difficult profession, but it can also be deeply rewarding. What I tell most people, about most things, not just architecture, is: don’t wait. If there is something you think you want, ask for it; if there is something you want to try, do it; if you have eventual goals, why not see if you can just start on those now.
To women, I’d say that even in the time I’ve practiced and been an educator, things have changed for us—but—not enough. We have to challenge others, and each other, to do better to make this practice equitable; to take representation seriously, and then to go beyond representation. I do a kind of quick accounting every time I see an academic or competition or awards jury makeup; every time I look at a school’s lineup of professors (especially those with tenure); every time I step into a room for a business meeting, or onto a jobsite. The numbers just aren’t there, and there are structural reasons women drop out on the path towards licensure and leadership. We need to call out inequities, and work to spur change in support systems, culture, and the old ways of working.