I am an architect at heart. I designed every home I've ever had

In the words of Tyler Perry, a man who built not only stories but entire worlds, there is a declaration that reaches beyond craft and into destiny: “I am an architect at heart. I designed every home I’ve ever had, plus my studio.” At first, these words may seem literal—a man speaking of his love for design, for the structure of walls and windows. But beneath their surface lies something far more profound. Perry is not merely speaking of buildings—he is speaking of creation itself, of shaping one’s life from the ground up, of laying the foundation of one’s dreams when the world has offered only rubble.

To call oneself an architect is to claim both mastery and vision. The architect is a dreamer of precision—a soul who gazes at empty land and sees form, order, and beauty where others see only dust. In saying he is “an architect at heart,” Tyler Perry speaks to this eternal calling: the human drive to build, to bring forth from imagination what did not exist before. For Perry, whose journey began in hardship and obscurity, every home, every studio, every creation is not just a place—it is a testimony. It is the proof that the human spirit, when guided by faith and perseverance, can design its own destiny even against the odds.

Consider his path: born into poverty, scarred by struggle, and yet unwilling to yield to despair. When the doors of success were closed to him, he built his own. When no stage was offered, he wrote his plays and performed them for those who would listen. And when the world doubted him, he laid the first stones of Tyler Perry Studios, a citadel of art and possibility standing upon land once used to train enslaved men to fight for their masters. Thus, his “studio” is not merely a workplace—it is a monument to transformation, proof that one who dares to dream can redeem even the soil itself.

In ancient times, the builders of great civilizations understood this truth well. The Egyptian Imhotep, architect of the first pyramid, was not simply a craftsman but a philosopher—a man who knew that architecture was the art of shaping eternity. So too does Perry’s work rise from that same tradition. His homes, his studio, his films—each is a temple of purpose, constructed not only of wood and stone but of persistence and divine inspiration. Where others build to be admired, he builds to endure, to create spaces where stories of struggle and redemption can be born.

Yet his words also reveal something deeply human. To “design every home” is not just to shape physical spaces, but to take ownership of one’s life. In every wall he sketches and every frame he envisions, Perry asserts the ancient truth that life itself is an act of design. We are all architects of the worlds we inhabit—each decision, each act of faith, each moment of resilience becomes a beam, a cornerstone, a foundation. The wise do not wait for others to build for them—they take up the tools themselves, imperfect but determined, and raise what they dream into being.

So many drift through life as tenants of circumstance, dwelling in houses built by others’ expectations. But the architect, like Perry, dares to build deliberately, to ask: What do I wish to stand upon when the storms come? For the architect’s art is not merely to create comfort, but to create meaning. His homes are sanctuaries for his spirit; his studio, a fortress for his purpose. He shows us that the measure of a life is not in what we inherit, but in what we construct with our own two hands.

The lesson in these words is both simple and sacred: Do not wait for your life to be built—design it. Do not lament what you were given—shape what you will become. Whether you are an artist, a craftsman, or a dreamer, learn to see yourself as an architect of your fate. Build your own home of peace, your own studio of creation, your own temple of truth. Let every act of persistence be a brick, every vision a blueprint, every moment of faith a foundation.

And so, as Tyler Perry reminds us, to live well is to build well. Stand before the empty field of your life and imagine what could be. Draw its outlines, raise its walls, fill it with light and purpose. For you, too, are an architect at heart—capable not only of creating houses and halls, but of constructing a life worthy of remembrance. The tools are already in your hands. The blueprint lies within your soul. Build.