Architectural writing focuses overwhelmingly on exceptional buildings — the museums, the corporate headquarters, the homes of the wealthy, the projects with high design ambition. The buildings most people actually live and work in are ordinary buildings, and ordinary buildings receive almost no critical attention. The asymmetry is strange given that ordinary buildings constitute almost all of what we encounter daily and what shapes most of our experience of cities.
This essay is about ordinary buildings — what makes them work or not, why their quality matters disproportionately to architectural attention, and what it would mean to take them seriously.
What ordinary buildings are
By "ordinary buildings" I mean the apartment blocks, office buildings, retail strips, schools, and small commercial buildings that constitute the bulk of urban built environment. Buildings designed to functional standards rather than aesthetic ambitions. Buildings produced by the standard practices of the construction industry rather than by named architects with publication ambitions.
These buildings house most of the human activity in cities. The exceptional buildings get the photographs and the awards; the ordinary buildings get the actual lives.
What ordinary buildings do well or badly
Ordinary buildings can be either good or bad in ways that affect daily life substantially. The qualities that distinguish good ordinary buildings from bad ones are mostly unglamorous and almost entirely missing from public architectural discourse.
Light. The buildings that work have considered the light their occupants will receive. Windows positioned to capture good daylight; rooms organized to put activity near the light; consideration of glare, heat, and seasonal changes. The buildings that don't work have windows placed where construction was easy without thinking about how the resulting interior light will feel.
Sound. Walls that block neighbor noise. Floors that don't transmit footsteps. Windows that quiet street noise. Building systems (HVAC, elevators, plumbing) that operate quietly. The buildings that work let people sleep, concentrate, and experience their spaces without constant intrusion. The buildings that don't work are exhausting in ways occupants often can't articulate but feel constantly.
Proportions. Rooms with proportions that feel right rather than wrong. Ceilings high enough to feel spacious without being cavernous. Windows large enough to admit light without dominating walls. Hallways wide enough to move through without feeling cramped. The proportions are subtle and rarely noticed when they work; they're obvious and uncomfortable when they don't.
Materials. Surfaces that wear well and develop patina rather than damage. Materials that feel pleasant when touched. Colors that hold up to use without becoming gloomy or institutional. The buildings that work age into character; the buildings that don't work just deteriorate.
Wayfinding. Layouts that are intuitively navigable. Entries that are clear. Circulation that's efficient without being institutional. The buildings that work let occupants move through them without thought; the buildings that don't work require constant orientation.
Connection to outside. Windows positioned to give views worth having. Outdoor spaces (balconies, terraces, courtyards) that are usable. Connection to the surrounding neighborhood that's navigable on foot. The buildings that work feel like part of the city; the buildings that don't work feel isolated from it.
None of these qualities requires architectural genius. They require attention. The ordinary buildings that succeed are the ones where someone paid attention to these details; the ones that fail are the ones where no one did.
Why ordinary building quality matters
Ordinary buildings shape ordinary lives. The apartment building you live in determines your daily light, the sounds you hear, the sense of your own space. The office building you work in determines your daily mood, the quality of your concentration, your sense of being in a real place versus a generic one.
The cumulative effect across a population is enormous. Cities of well-designed ordinary buildings produce different qualities of life from cities of poorly-designed ordinary buildings, even when the exceptional buildings (museums, civic centers, monuments) are equivalent.
Yet the discourse that shapes architectural production focuses on exceptional buildings. Architecture students are trained on exceptional buildings. Architectural awards celebrate exceptional buildings. The economic structure of architectural practice rewards exceptional buildings. The result: ordinary building production gets the leftover attention.
The historical case
Periods that produced consistently good ordinary buildings shared characteristics. Builders had relatively constrained pattern books that prevented gross mistakes. Material constraints (limited variety) produced consistency. Community standards established expectations that builders couldn't depart from too dramatically. Time and use refined the patterns that worked.
The ordinary buildings of pre-modern European cities, the brownstones of late-19th century American cities, the modernist housing of mid-20th century European cities at their best — these are products of contexts where ordinary building production had quality controls that have since broken down.
Contemporary ordinary building production lacks most of these constraints. Builders have access to almost unlimited material choices. Pattern books have largely disappeared. Community standards have weakened. Time hasn't had a chance to refine the new patterns. The result is ordinary buildings of widely variable and often poor quality.
What would help
Several things would improve ordinary building production:
Pattern books for current contexts. Codified ways of building that prevent gross mistakes and guide builders toward quality. Not architectural style guides, but practical guidance for the considerations that distinguish good ordinary buildings from bad ones.
Architectural attention to the ordinary. Architects who treat ordinary building production as worth their attention rather than as the work to be avoided in favor of exceptional commissions.
Critical attention to ordinary buildings. Architectural criticism that engages with the buildings most people actually use rather than the rare exceptional projects.
Building codes that address quality, not just safety. Codes that require consideration of light, sound, proportion, and the other qualities that distinguish good ordinary buildings — not in detailed prescriptive ways, but in performance standards that builders must meet.
Public expectations that are different. Buyers and renters who recognize quality differences in ordinary buildings and pay more for the better ones, creating market incentive for quality.
None of these is happening at any meaningful scale. The result is continuing production of ordinary buildings that range from competent to poor, with the genuine successes being mostly accidental.
The case for noticing
For individual readers, the practice that matters most is simply noticing. The ordinary buildings around us reward attention.
Why does this apartment block feel pleasant to walk past while that one feels institutional? Why does this office building have the warm light that makes occupants seem more present, while that one has the harsh fluorescence that flattens everything? Why does this small commercial street have the texture that supports real foot traffic, while that one feels like background to vehicle movement?
The answers are visible if you look. The buildings reveal what their builders considered. Looking carefully at ordinary buildings is among the most-rewarding urban practices, and one of the least-practiced.
The closing observation
Ordinary buildings constitute the actual physical environment of daily urban life. Their quality matters disproportionately because they're what we actually encounter, daily, throughout our lives. The architectural discourse that ignores them in favor of exceptional buildings is, in important ways, missing the point.
What would architecture look like if it took ordinary buildings seriously? It would look different from what we have. It would probably look better, for almost everyone, in ways that compound across generations. Worth working toward.
The buildings around us reward looking. Worth looking.
