A Modern Woman: Relativity Architects' Ginna Nguyen on Density, Empathy, and Acts of Service
By Julia Gamolina
Ginna Claire Nguyen, Assoc. AIA, has a diverse portfolio from her work with architecture firms, publications, and restaurant and real-estate management companies. Prior to joining Relativity Architects in 2014, she developed a collaborative practice that explored new typologies of living, and served as an Adjunct Professor of Architecture at Pasadena City College. Rounding out her diverse background, she is an active Board Member of two non-profit organizations.
As Relativity Architects’ Associate Principal Ginna oversees projects that range from hospitality to affordable housing. With a passion for people and place, Ginna guides the studio with creativity, diligence, respect, and critical thought. In her interview, Ginna talks about finding strength through strife and what she always teaches her students, advising those just starting their careers to always remember why they chose this path.
JG: Tell me about your foundational years - where did you grow up, what did you like to do as a kid, and what was the biggest challenge you faced growing up?
GN: I’m a mixed-race Vietnamese-Arkansan, and grew up in a bi-cultural family in the Little Saigon neighborhood of Orange County, California. I spent summers and Christmas vacations at my grandmother’s, out in the country in Arkansas. She did lots of crafts and I would go with her to her Homemakers Club. It was this little country cottage off the side of the road, surrounded by tall, dense trees where she made ornaments and dolls. In my teen years I started to discover the satisfaction that comes from making things. I took a woodshop and drafting class in school—looking back, that moment of joyfully drawing imaginary buildings with a T-square and triangle was perhaps a quiet but important moment growing up. I built houses in Mexico during my spring breaks. I started to explore the arts through fashion and make-up artistry.
I think one of the challenges in these foundational years for me was that of self-identity. From birth through college, we’re all in that process of “becoming,” and I had quite the environment of opposites to navigate. During this time, I was also working in my family’s restaurants. There, I was unknowingly developing the most important skills for where I am today—those of people and project management and a sense of hospitality. I read an article a few years ago that studied the correlation between how close people live to one another — such as the density of an urban block versus a suburban neighborhood— and their perceived empathy. I think the diverse identities of childhood was my density, instilling in me an ability to relate to others on a broad spectrum. This certainly prepared me for life in general, as well as for success in architecture.
What did you learn about yourself in studying architecture?
I discovered my true self studying architecture. I was always passionate about so many industries—the arts and humanities, social justice, business, nature, literature, the list went on. When I was an arts student at Pepperdine University in Malibu, California, I used to check out all these random arts documentaries from the library. One of them was the Maya Lin documentary, which was so inspirational. I also discovered Chanoyu, the traditional Japanese Tea Ceremony, while at Pepperdine, and have been practicing it ever since. If there was ever a metaphor for architecture, both philosophical and physical, it is Chanoyu.
When I had my first taste of being an architect at Harvard’s Career Discovery program, I felt like I found me: all of my interests, skills, and passions wrapped up into one singular discipline. Then studying architecture at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia—experiencing the East Coast and PennDesign’s interdisciplinary approach that integrated landscape and cultural urban design—further reinforced that I was on the right path.
How did you get your start in the field?
My first project after graduate school was actually a competition that I and two amazing architects, Dale Suttle and So Sugita, whom I went to school with, won together—Sukkah City in New York City. Our sukkah, called “Gathering,” was parametrically designed out of thousands of hand-cut pieces of western red cedar and copper pipe. We built it in a woodshop in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, over the course of five weeks, which was an experience of its own, listening to passersby discuss their opinions and reactions to the structure taking shape.
Once it was erected in Union Square, I admit I was a bit star-struck seeing the public intimately experience what we created, not to mention seeing Thom Mayne admire our work. Hearing Paul Goldberger pass by our sukkah commenting on the appropriateness of the Japanese Tea Ceremony, which I was conducting inside for my partners, was perhaps the most profound and humbling way to start my career. It was a phenomenal experience to be on the other side of realized architecture—that of the maker—for the first time. We entered another competition and won, building another parametric pavilion for the Kobe Biennale the following year. I don’t think I could’ve asked for a better start to my architecture career.
Tell me how your work evolved, and you with it.
I’ve always been intrigued by how people interact with their environments: the relationship between a person and the proportion of space surrounding them, the way a door opens into a room, how the windows are placed to frame an experience. In contrast to that intimate scale, I love to explore interactions of environments to communities. What impact does organizing a program across an 18-acre site have on the growth of a neighborhood and the daily life of a resident? What is the experience as one moves through a development of this scale? Where are the opportunities for integrative and innovative urban design? My work has largely been focused on hospitality, housing, and master-planning. My evolution through those projects is really one of role: from drawing plans to teaching them, and from managing projects toward co-developing them. I don’t know which direction the wind will blow next, but I look forward to it.
Where are you in your career today? What is on your mind most at the moment?
As Associate Principal, I have a leadership role at Relativity Architects. I oversee design and master-planning, manage projects and people, and coordinate marketing and development. I also help guide the firm’s growth, as well as actively contribute ideas to the partners. Relativity Architects has become my “work home,” and I’m grateful to be part of a company that celebrates who each individual is, which in my case means doing projects that give back. We did pro-bono design work for a school in rural Nigeria. The first phase of the project, a dormitory for 80 girls, is complete. We even hosted a GoFundMe campaign and a silent auction to raise money to build it. Relativity also supported a renovation I collaborated on for the Whispering Pines Tea House in Glendale, California, for the non-profit organization Friends of Shoseian, on which I’m a board member.
Looking back at it all, what have been the biggest challenges? How did you manage through a disappointment or a perceived setback?
I graduated with my M.Arch degree during the fallout of the 2008 recession. I was fortunate to get an excellent job at a firm focused on affordable housing, which was a great start for me. Unfortunately, that firm had been doing layoffs the entire time I was there, and one day it was my turn. That alone was a difficult pill to swallow so early in my career. On top of that, the company’s manner of my layoff was, to be blunt, a bit cowardly. It hit me hard. I was young, I was ambitious, and I knew I had a lot to contribute. I had just started teaching on weekends before the layoff, so I was able to increase my class load to help weather the financial impacts in a tight job market. The years that followed, as I built my own practice and continued to teach, often felt like I was climbing a very steep, rocky mountain. But those years—both difficult and fun—were the ones that shaped me the most. I’m one of those firm believers that strength comes from strife.
Through this, I learned so much about the industry and about myself. Two critical lessons from this experience that are worth sharing are the importance of honesty and respect from leadership, and to always be true to who you are. I began the next chapter of my career at Relativity Architects right after this, and I don’t believe I would be where I am today had I not come out of that “setback” with those lessons close to my heart.
What are you most excited about right now?
I’m incredibly excited about the next phase for our company. Relativity has grown from five to fifty during the past eight years and is evolving from an emerging firm to celebrating its establishing identity within the industry. We nearly doubled during the pandemic because of the counter-cyclical model that we’ve established. I certainly felt a strong sense of pride to be able to hire young architects who were facing the kind of economy I faced when I started.
My mind is consumed with designing how we continue to shape and grow Relativity Architects, and for the large projects on our boards right now that reflect some of my greatest interests as an architect. Some of those include an equestrian center in an underserved neighborhood, acres and acres of production studio campuses, conversion of a city hall into a multi-use community center, hundreds of units of affordable housing for vulnerable populations, and some new restaurants coming back online as we emerge from the pandemic.
Who are you admiring now and why?
I deeply admire the women in my family right now. Throughout the pandemic, they have modeled such fortitude and grace in these formidable circumstances. I think the pandemic has taken the spotlight away from conventional “success” and shined it on the incredibly necessary everyday humanity, which my family has quietly exemplified. They have been my inspiration and my motivation to push through these last years.
My mother modeled patience and strength my entire life, which are traits that I believe we all needed during the past two years. I see my sister carrying on that tradition in raising her two young daughters, and doing so during a life-changing era. My step-daughter has flourished during such formative years of college in spite of so many transitions. My tea ceremony sensei teaches me about life and kindness through her constant example. My best friend and my aunt—during a time of isolation and strife—have shown exactly what it means to be a modern woman, and I am grateful for them.
What is the impact you’d like to have on the world? What is your core mission? And, what does success in that look like to you?
I see architecture as an act of service. As architects, the products of our work carry tangible, lasting impacts on the built environment. What we draw on paper become the places in which our daily lives occur. Because of this, social justice and equity are not optional; rather, they are inherent in what we do. Giving someone a home is success. Inserting a park into a concrete community is success. Building a company that grows architects with a set of values is success. I try to remind myself, as I get swept up in the frenzy of deadlines, codes, and complications, that if I focus on putting my passion into my work, then I will be living my mission every day. One day I would like to add a church and a museum to my list of successes.
Finally, what advice do you have for those starting their career? Would your advice be any different for women?
When I taught architecture at Pasadena City College, I gave my students a little card at the end of the semester. On it was an image of Picasso’s Girl Before A Mirror, and a quote by Frank Lloyd Wright that said, “All fine architectural values are human values, else not valuable.” I wrote a note to my students about courage, and how they will have to practice it every day in this industry. That is my advice for those starting out in architecture: don’t forget why you chose this path. Don’t forget the beauty created through your work on those stressful days. Most importantly, don’t forget who you are doing this for—it’s not yourself. Architecture has an incredible capacity to catalyze change—whether good or bad—and therefore we have an incredible responsibility to make sure it is good.
For women specifically, I will say this: you will find yourself struggling to deal with a curmudgeonly consultant that doesn’t give you the same respect as to your male counterpart. You will find yourself in a room full of men, be it your clients, contractors, or colleagues, and stand there as the only woman. And you will get exhausted—there are certainly times when I’ve just been too tired to work “backwards and in high heels.” But you will have to persevere, and you will. Know your worth. Know that you are the only woman in that room because you have the skills, the intellect, and the courage to be there. Know that the industry is changing, and that you are a part of setting the stage for the next generation.