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.
