Meeting new people all the time because you know that networking is important for finding new people whom you might click with is this activity I used to be into, but, since the time of the pandemic days, I have neatly cast to the side. Largely. One day, however, I did gather myself to inquire if an architect in Phnom Penh would like to meet and talk with me about the changing nature of the business, here. I thought I might interview him for S P A C E, my weekly e-mag. This didn’t happen as what I actually found out is that the people who work in architecture here in Phnom Penh, and I met about six or seven over the years who run their own businesses or are high up in the management hierarchy, are mostly focused on the value engineering aspect. As in, let’s get as many units made, and as cheaply, and sell, and move on. The art of architecture, the green design techniques, the philosophy of it—those were the things I was lucky enough to be part of conversations around when I was working for architects in Raleigh, in Tokyo, and then writing for a construction trade journal in Seattle. We talked about ideas more. Not getting to was hugely disappointing, here in Phnom Penh and once in Bangkok, that was a mistake, walking into a door unsolicited to ‘discuss art and architecture’ based solely on the name of their company and their tagline. People don’t mean their tag line, sometimes, I found out the hard way. Besides the raw shock of finding myself alone in appreciating the vernacular architectural styles and the slowness of thoughtful design, I guess I was quitting on networking altogether, too.
But one day, I met someone who was quite solidly unaware of the giant space between me and them. And them and their employees, too, I think.
Realizing this, and not being afraid to ask questions, because, that’s what we do here, I sort of off the cuff asked it.
‘Do you know why your people work for you?’