Architecture students are generally given theoretical projects

Host: The room is dimly lit, soft shadows stretching across the walls, cast by the flickering light of a single desk lamp. The sound of pages turning is the only interruption to the otherwise still atmosphere. Jack and Jeeny sit across from each other at a small table, a stack of books and sketches between them. Their conversation has been slow, deliberate, as though they’re both wading through ideas, trying to find meaning beneath the surface of the words they’re exchanging.

Jack: “I was reading something by Alan Huffman, and he talked about architecture students being given theoretical projects. He said they’re often asked to come up with a design for places that don’t even exist, places far off, distant. It sounds kind of… abstract, don’t you think?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly unsure about the point of such assignments. “I mean, if you’re trying to design something, doesn’t it make sense to work with something tangible, something real?”

Jeeny: “It does sound a little strange, right? But I think that’s exactly the point of it. Theoretical projects push students to think beyond the practical and into the imaginative. They’re not bound by the limitations of a real site or specific constraints. Instead, they’re encouraged to dream, to stretch the boundaries of what architecture can be.” Her voice is calm, but there’s a quiet enthusiasm in the way she speaks, her eyes lighting up with the possibilities. “By removing those constraints, students are given the freedom to explore design at its most abstract, most theoretical level. It’s a space where ideas can flourish without being immediately stifled by reality.”

Jack: “But what about reality, Jeeny? He shakes his head, hands gesturing in the air, trying to make sense of it all. “Architecture isn’t just about ideas. It’s about real spaces, real people, and real needs. How can you design something meaningful if it’s not grounded in the real world?” He leans forward, clearly invested in the conversation now. “Isn’t that the point? To create spaces that work in the world we live in, not in some abstract, theoretical space?”

Jeeny: She sits back, considering his words. “I see what you mean. Design has to be rooted in the real world, but sometimes, that’s exactly why the abstract is important. By challenging yourself with a theoretical project, you’re forced to think beyond what already exists. You get to explore what could be — and maybe that’s how we find solutions for things we haven’t even thought of yet.” She pauses, her gaze searching, as if trying to express the full weight of her point. “Architecture is about vision, Jack. It’s about seeing potential in what isn’t there yet, and figuring out how to make it real. Theoretical projects are training wheels for the imagination, but they still teach you how to approach design in a more meaningful, expansive way.”

Jack: He sits back, the skepticism still lingering in his posture, but the doubt in his expression has softened. “I get that in theory, but isn’t it a bit like designing a dream? What happens when it has to be translated into something that can actually be built? What’s the point of dreaming if you can’t make it real?” His voice is quieter now, more reflective. “What happens when the dream gets crushed by practicalities?”

Jeeny: “That’s the challenge, isn’t it? To make the dream real.” Her voice is steady, conviction laced through every word. “The goal is to bridge that gap between imagination and reality. Sure, dreams get grounded by practical considerations — materials, budgets, space — but the essence of good design comes from being able to take something that started as an idea and transform it into a place people can live, work, and experience.” She smiles gently, the weight of her words settling between them. “Theoretical projects give you the tools to dream, but real-world designs give you the tools to build those dreams.”

Jack: “So it’s about merging the dream with the real, then? Finding the balance between what’s possible and what’s just an idea?” His voice has softened, the doubt still there but now tempered with a spark of understanding. “Maybe I get it now. It’s not about ignoring reality, it’s about pushing the limits of it.”

Jeeny: “Exactly.” She smiles, clearly pleased with his shift in perspective. “Theoretical projects challenge you to think big, to stretch the boundaries. But when it comes time to build, you take that vision and adapt it, shape it into something that works in the real world. That’s where the true art of architecture lies — in the balance between imagination and practicality.”

Host: The room feels a little lighter now, as if the conversation has unlocked something between them. Jack leans back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful, but there’s a new understanding settling in. Theories and practicalities don’t have to be opposites; they can coexist, each strengthening the other. The world outside continues its usual rhythm, but here, in this quiet space, they’ve found a common ground between the abstract and the real, between dreams and the grounded work of making them come to life.