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Mastering the Design Process: Strategies for Studio Success

Henry Kofi Danso

Introduction to Design Process

The design process is a multifaceted journey that blends creativity with structured methodologies, crucial for aspiring designers to navigate. Within a design studio environment, key pedagogical elements shape this journey, combining formal instruction, peer interactions, and reflective critique. The environment encourages a culture of open critique, where students can engage in discussions regarding their designs with their peers and instructors. This ongoing dialogue not only enhances their learning experience but also cultivates their ability to articulate justifications for their design choices. Students learn to internalize design frameworks and mental constructs that guide their process over time, ultimately aiming to think like professionals in the field (M. Gray, 2013).

In addition to fostering critique, the role of documentation is vital in the educational landscape. A process book serves as a tangible artifact that chronicles a student's design journey, encompassing annotations alongside graphics to deepen understanding. When educators structure these artifacts with designated spaces for critical insight, students are better positioned to connect various components of their design alternatives. This method emphasizes the importance of reflective practice and metacognition in design education, enabling students to gain a clearer picture of their design evolution. By focusing on these tools and methods, design educators can enhance the learning experience and empower their students to navigate complex, ‘wicked’ design problems more effectively. The design studio environment not only prepares students to create but also equips them with the analytical skills necessary to thrive in a professional context. Such a holistic approach to the design process becomes essential for fostering an adaptive mindset among future designers, allowing them to continuously refine and reinvent their approaches based on the critiques and insights gathered throughout their educational

 1. Understanding the Brief: Reading Between the Lines

Understanding the brief is the cornerstone of every successful design project. It provides the architect with the client’s expectations, site conditions, constraints, and sometimes unspoken hopes. However, students often rush into sketching without thoroughly unpacking the brief. This oversight leads to designs that miss the mark. In studio culture, decoding the brief properly sets the direction for the entire semester. For instance, briefs at KNUST frequently incorporate themes like social housing, urban resilience, or community development, requiring a layered interpretation.

Reading between the lines means identifying what is not explicitly stated. A brief might state "design a market," but in the Ghanaian context, this could mean acknowledging communal patterns, open social space for vendors, and flexible weather-resilient stalls. Students must analyze how different cultural, climatic, and social dynamics influence user behavior. Historically, traditional Ghanaian architecture was born from deep understanding of such briefs—whether spoken or unwritten. Courtyard housing systems among the Ashantis, for example, inherently responded to family structures, security, and climate.

A critical success factor is asking questions. Design students must go back to their instructors, user surveys, or site visits with queries that clarify the ambiguity in the brief. Was there an age group considered? What is the time scale for implementation? Are there policy constraints in the locality? These questions help to narrow focus, encourage innovation, and prevent superficial solutions. Students must also consult planning schemes and building codes relevant to the locality to further understand regulatory overlays.

In the studio process, students who meticulously analyze and restate their understanding of the brief often gain stronger critique responses. Jurors want to see that you understand what you’re designing and why. For example, one third-year KNUST student reformulated a vague “community space” brief into a “civic dialogue pavilion,” inspired by the traditional Asafo meeting spaces of the Fantes. This turned a simple functional space into a dialogue-driven, historically resonant structure.

Mastering this first stage also builds lifelong habits for professional practice. Practicing architects routinely return to their briefs during design development, post-construction analysis, or client handovers. It is a living document. Students who begin cultivating a reflective, research-based, and iterative approach to the brief will always outperform those who treat it as a checklist. Understanding the brief is not just about knowing what to do—it is about knowing why it must be done in a certain way.

 2. Research Methods for Informed Design

Informed design emerges from solid research. In the studio, research allows students to develop context-sensitive, user-responsive, and innovative architectural proposals. In the Ghanaian context, where climatic conditions, material availability, and cultural customs shape spatial practices, research is non-negotiable. KNUST’s Department of Architecture emphasizes both empirical fieldwork and literature reviews in early studio stages, which forms the foundation for strong design ideas and justification.

Effective research blends site study, stakeholder analysis, and precedent review. For instance, a field visit to Somanya may reveal how local materials like laterite or bamboo are used informally yet effectively for shading and cooling. Interviewing market women could uncover needs not stated in the design brief—like storage for babies’ items or areas for prayers. These seemingly small discoveries can transform an ordinary project into a user-celebrated space. Many of Ghana’s informal architectural typologies today evolved through embedded understanding of user needs—gathered not from textbooks, but from the ground.

Precedent studies are another core pillar. Looking at existing architectural projects that solve similar problems—locally or internationally—helps students identify what works and what doesn’t. For example, students designing flood-resilient schools might study the Makoko Floating School in Nigeria by Kunlé Adeyemi. Such projects inspire context-specific solutions while offering insight into structural and material strategies. However, successful students always adapt—not copy—the precedents.

Students must also learn to analyze policy and planning documents. For example, understanding Ghana's National Urban Policy Framework or local Assembly planning schemes can help align studio projects with realistic developmental goals. Research also includes climate data, population densities, economic patterns, and social hierarchies—all of which influence spatial decisions. When used wisely, this data enriches the student’s understanding of not only how to design, but what impact that design might have on its environment.

Ultimately, strong research transforms the student from a speculative designer into a spatial problem-solver. At KNUST, award-winning projects often show research-based design moves—culturally appropriate, climatically sound, and spatially intuitive. The earlier students embrace research as a design partner—not a studio formality—the quicker they build confidence and mastery in their work. 

3. Concept Development: From Idea to Intent

The concept is the soul of the design. It is what gives architecture meaning beyond mere walls and roofs. In studio practice, especially within African and Ghanaian contexts, the concept is where heritage, site experience, and personal vision converge. Successful concept development requires the student to translate research findings, contextual insights, and emotional responses into spatial ideas. A strong concept guides form, materiality, and even construction sequencing.

In Ghanaian architecture, concepts often emerge from cultural idioms, symbols, and environmental metaphors. For example, a student may design a learning centre inspired by the “Baobab tree” as a symbol of communal wisdom. Others draw on Adinkra symbols like Duafe (cleanliness, love, and feminine virtue) to shape social spaces in women's cooperatives. Such locally inspired concepts demonstrate design sensitivity, cultural intelligence, and contextual fluency. They also perform well in critique sessions, as jurors recognize grounded and emotionally resonant ideas.

Developing a concept is not a one-time action but an evolving process. It begins with brainstorming, sketching, mood boards, or analogies. The designer must ask: What am I trying to say with this space? How does this form relate to the user’s journey? What metaphor expresses the essence of the brief? These questions help sharpen design thinking. At KNUST, some studios use visual narratives or film stills to communicate concepts, helping students to visualize mood, light, and spatial transitions early on.

There is also a technical aspect to concept development. A good concept must be flexible enough to adapt to constraints but strong enough to remain present throughout the scheme. It should resolve structural systems, circulation logic, environmental strategies, and material choices. For instance, a concept inspired by "woven fabric" might dictate not only façade textures but also space overlaps, light penetration, and user interactivity. That way, the idea is embodied in every design layer—not merely in words.

Historically, even monumental Ghanaian architecture like the Larabanga Mosque or traditional Nzulezu stilt houses began from conceptual principles—whether spiritual symbolism or response to flooding. Students must treat concepts as blueprints for thought. A clear, authentic concept is a compass that keeps the designer on course, even when critiques or deadlines attempt to derail the process.

 4. The Power of Sketching and Visual Thinking

Sketching is the architect’s first language. Long before CAD and BIM software entered the profession, architects relied on freehand drawing to explore and communicate design ideas. Even today, the most celebrated architects like Zaha Hadid, Tadao Ando, and Sir David Adjaye continue to emphasize the irreplaceable role of sketching. For Ghanaian architecture students, sketching is more than a drawing exercise—it’s a thinking process. It allows you to rapidly experiment with forms, spatial relationships, lighting effects, and construction details before committing to formal design.

Sketching activates both the analytical and intuitive parts of the brain. When a student begins to sketch site responses or user flow diagrams, they’re not merely drawing—they’re probing spatial problems and offering solutions. Many students at KNUST who excel in studio carry around small sketchbooks and draw constantly: on the bus, at meetings, during fieldwork. These sketches may seem insignificant at first, but they often become the seeds for compelling design decisions.

Visual thinking also strengthens your ability to communicate during critiques. A strong sketch can often express what ten sentences struggle to say. It gives reviewers a window into your design process—not just the polished outcome. During design juries, hand-drawn section sketches showing light movement or circulation patterns often impress more than perfect 3D renders. This is because they reveal understanding, not just presentation skill.

Historically, African architecture—though rarely documented with drawings—relied on an implicit culture of spatial sketching. Craftsmen built from memory, intuition, and spatial logic passed down through oral traditions. This underscores the idea that sketching is about conceptualizing, not just copying. In modern practice, this legacy is reborn when students use charcoal to shade a light study or pencil to draw a courtyard breeze simulation. It reconnects our modern training with the embodied spatial intelligence of our ancestors.

Ultimately, sketching helps you own your design. It allows you to test, fail, and reimagine quickly. As a student, don’t focus only on making ‘beautiful’ sketches. Make intentional, strategic sketches that reflect your design journey. Over time, these drawings build your design literacy and confidence, which no software tool can substitute. 

5. Model Making: Bringing Ideas to Life

Model making is a critical skill in architectural education. It is the first time a designer’s ideas become tangible—three-dimensional, touchable, and measurable. At KNUST, both concept and final models are required in most studios, and rightly so. They serve as tools for design development, spatial testing, material exploration, and presentation. Physical models help bridge the gap between two-dimensional drawings and real-life experiences, especially when digital renders may appear too abstract or distant.

Conceptual models, often made with paper, cardboard, or clay, are quick explorations of form and massing. These early models allow students to test proportions, site relationships, and environmental orientations. For example, a student designing a health post in Huhunya used paper cones to represent airflow chimneys, helping jurors grasp the project’s ventilation strategy. At the concept stage, models are not about polish—they’re about spatial reasoning and design storytelling.

As the project develops, detail models become important. They test joinery, materials, lighting, and circulation at various scales. KNUST students often build sectional models of classroom blocks or libraries to showcase interior atmosphere. Using recycled or natural materials like raffia, coconut husk, or bamboo can also reflect environmental concerns while encouraging sustainable thinking. One memorable student model was built entirely from discarded water sachet bags—highlighting both creativity and ecological commentary.

Digital modeling and 3D printing now complement physical model making. Students can use Rhino, SketchUp, or Revit to simulate complex geometries and cut laser templates. However, this should never replace hands-on modeling entirely. There’s a tactile wisdom that comes from folding, gluing, and cutting—skills that are crucial on real construction sites. In Ghana, where hands-on building is part of everyday life, physical models serve as cultural bridges between design imagination and built reality.

More importantly, models communicate intuitively. When reviewers, stakeholders, or even non-architects can touch and understand your space through a model, you’ve succeeded. In studio, your model is your strongest advocate—it speaks when your words fail. So invest time in it, revise it, and let it grow alongside your drawings.

   6. Time Management and Beating the Studio Burnout

Studio life is demanding. Assignments, critiques, models, research, and presentations can quickly consume your time and energy. Without discipline, burnout becomes inevitable. That’s why successful students are not just creative—they’re also organized. Time management is a crucial soft skill that underpins all technical abilities. It allows you to meet deadlines, stay motivated, and preserve your mental health.

The typical studio semester at KNUST follows a weekly progression—site analysis, concept, schematic drawings, technical detailing, and final jury. Each stage must be allocated time and goals. Using planners, task boards, or even sticky notes helps track progress. Time-blocking techniques like the Pomodoro Method (25 minutes of focus, 5 minutes rest) can drastically improve concentration and reduce procrastination. Students who plan their week ahead—rather than reacting to deadlines—achieve more and sleep better.

Burnout often comes from poor boundaries. Students who work late into the night, skip meals, or avoid rest days find their creativity declining. One inspiring story comes from a KNUST student who dedicated her weekends to community outreach in Ayeduase. She organized her studio work around this commitment—finishing drawings on weekdays and keeping Sundays free. This rhythm not only protected her health, but also inspired her final year project: a community mental health center.

Rest, recreation, and reflection are essential parts of the design process. Taking breaks to walk, sketch outdoors, or reflect with peers often leads to breakthrough ideas. Design requires emotional and physical stamina, not just brilliance. By pacing your work and prioritizing self-care, you’ll produce better results in studio and build lifelong professional habits.

Finally, always seek help when overwhelmed. Studio culture should be collaborative, not competitive. Work with others, ask for feedback early, and support your friends. Studio is not a solitary race—it is a shared journey.

 7. Critiques, Reviews, and Learning from Feedback

Critiques are at the heart of architectural education. They allow students to receive constructive input, question their assumptions, and improve their designs. At KNUST, critique sessions (or ‘crits’) happen throughout the semester, culminating in the final jury. These sessions can feel intimidating, but when approached with the right mindset, they become transformative experiences.

The first step is preparation. Students must organize their boards clearly: show the brief, research, concept, site plan, floor plans, sections, elevations, and models. Use visual hierarchy—bold titles, neat drawings, minimal text—to guide jurors through your work. Practice presenting your project concisely: introduce the context, explain the concept, and walk through the design logic. Clarity and confidence go a long way in making your work memorable.

Critiques are not exams. They’re conversations. Your goal is not to defend every decision but to learn. If a juror challenges your circulation strategy or shading technique, don’t panic—ask questions, acknowledge the weakness, and suggest how you plan to improve. The best students turn criticism into opportunity. A memorable example at KNUST involved a student whose housing project was critiqued for being too dense. He returned with a revised site plan using diagonal pathways and courtyard breaks—earning him distinction at the final review.

Emotional maturity is key. Critiques can feel personal, but they’re not. Jurors are challenging your work, not your worth. Students must learn to detach ego from design. Feedback, even when harsh, is a gift. Some of the most brilliant architects—from Rem Koolhaas to Francis Kéré—faced brutal critiques in school. What set them apart was their ability to listen, adapt, and persist.

In the end, growth in studio happens through critique, not in spite of it. Each session builds your confidence, sharpens your thinking, and prepares you for the real-world design presentation to clients, consultants, and communities.

 8. Collaborative Design: Working in Teams Without Losing Yourself

Teamwork is an essential part of architectural education and professional life. Many studios, especially at KNUST, incorporate group research, joint presentations, and collaborative models. Learning to work with others—despite different temperaments and strengths—is a key part of mastering the design process.

Collaboration starts with clear roles. Teams work best when responsibilities are shared fairly: one member leads research, another drawings, another model-making, and so on. Tools like Trello or shared Google Drives can help coordinate tasks. At KNUST, students involved in the peri-urban surveys in Yilo Krobo succeeded because of disciplined teamwork. They scheduled daily debriefs, shared site photos, and updated each other constantly.

Conflict is inevitable, but manageable. Disagreements on concept direction or design choices must be resolved with maturity. Use group critique sessions, voting systems, or tutor mediation to keep things on track. Avoid power struggles. Always return to the project goals and let design quality, not ego, lead decisions. One studio project in Adaklu almost collapsed due to internal arguments, but after a team reshuffle and clear delegation, it went on to win studio honours.

At the same time, don’t lose your voice. In every group, ensure your creativity and input are visible. Document your work. Speak during presentations. Leave your signature on the design. Collaborative work doesn’t mean uniform thinking—it means harmonized diversity. Students who balance teamwork with personal growth build the strongest portfolios and reputations.

The workplace is a collaborative environment. Architects work with engineers, planners, masons, and clients daily. By learning team skills now, students prepare themselves for leadership roles later. A good team player is always a future project leader.

 9. Sustainability and Cultural Relevance in Studio Projects

Ghana, like much of Africa, faces climate-related challenges—heatwaves, floods, and rapid urbanization. Architecture students must treat sustainability not as an afterthought but a design principle. Likewise, cultural relevance ensures that design respects and celebrates local identity. When both come together, architecture becomes powerful.

Sustainability starts with passive strategies. Orient buildings to catch the breeze. Use overhangs to shade windows. Select locally available, low-impact materials. At KNUST, students are encouraged to apply climatic data, sun path diagrams, and thermal mass calculations in their projects. A notable project used earthbags and rammed earth walls to design a nursery in the hot Northern Region—cutting costs and enhancing thermal comfort.

Cultural relevance means designing for people, not just for awards. Ghana’s diverse ethnic and spatial traditions—from Ga compound layouts to Akan courtyards—offer deep insight into social patterns and spatial habits. Students who study these precedents produce rooted, authentic work. For example, a KNUST student studying the Ewe spatial language designed a civic space mimicking the communal ring used in traditional storytelling—a subtle yet powerful move.

Students must also engage current global goals—like the SDGs (Sustainable Development Goals). Architecture should address SDG 11 (Sustainable Cities and Communities) and SDG 13 (Climate Action). Studio projects that align with these goals tend to be forward-looking and attract research grants or external support. One studio team aligned their design with SDG 4 (Quality Education) and eventually pitched the idea to a local NGO.

In sum, when your design is both environmentally responsible and culturally respectful, it becomes timeless. It speaks to the user, the land, and the future.

 10. Preparing for Final Jury: Communication, Confidence, and the Art of Storytelling

The final jury is the grand finale of every design semester. It’s not just a test—it’s a celebration of your journey. Students who prepare strategically, communicate effectively, and tell compelling stories often leave a lasting impression. This is not the time to show everything—it is the time to show what matters most.

Start with a structured narrative: context, problem, concept, design logic, and user experience. Use powerful opening lines. For example: “My project is a response to the forgotten stories of Klo Agogo…” This immediately invites jurors into your world. Keep your visuals clean and readable. Highlight your design moves using diagrams, axonometric views, and key sections. Jurors must see how your ideas evolved, not just the finished product.

Practice delivery. Rehearse in front of friends or even your mirror. Record yourself. Know how to pace your speech, when to pause, and how to manage questions. If English is not your strong suit, speak clearly and from the heart. Remember, passion often communicates more than grammar.

Confidence is not arrogance. Be honest about limitations and proud of your efforts. If something didn’t work, explain what you learned. One student began her jury by admitting her initial concept failed—then showed how feedback transformed her design. The jurors respected her humility and process.

Storytelling makes your work memorable. If your design is inspired by your childhood in a compound house, say so. If your sketches were drawn under moonlight in your village, share that. Architecture is about people, places, and possibilities. Let your final jury presentation reflect you—as a student, a Ghanaian, and a future architect.

Introducing Archilab

THE ARCHiNSIGH is pleased to introduce Archilab- a software training institute that started in 2022 and has served hundreds of students in utilising softwares such as Revit, Autocad and Lumion. Archilab seeks to reach out more to the student populace by aiding in computer related tasks such as drafting, modelling and rendering. As part of the institute, we provide high performance laptops for software needs. Location is currently Rehoboth Gravels Drive, Gbetsile.



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