Architecture Studio Culture: A Second Home

This semester, I’ve been missing the traditional process of architecture—the sketching, the site visits, the small-scale models. I miss those quiet moments with tracing paper and pencils, figuring out details or layouts, just sitting there with a friend. There’s a certain joy in sitting at your table, earphones in, pencil in hand, surrounded by tracing sheets. That feeling is something special. Can anyone else relate? It got me thinking about how much the studio has become a second home, and I’m just so grateful for this campus and the community I’ve found here.

 

At CEPT, we have a different studio system from the usual classroom. Each studio, with its own brief and objectives, has around 10 to 16 students who share a small space. Over the next 16 weeks, this space becomes our personal nook. With the campus staying open until midnight, it gives us the freedom to work late, surrounded by people in the same boat. A lot of what we do is collaborative, leading to a constant exchange of ideas. One of the best things is that all the studios are open and accessible for us to walk into, see what others are working on, or even ask for feedback.

 

The vertical studio setup means we’re often working with people from different studios and with different experiences. We’re not always with our friends, which forces us to get out of our comfort zone, make new connections, and learn to navigate different working styles. It’s a fresh environment every semester, with new faculty, new people and new challenges. Beyond design, I have grown as person so much. 

 

Similarly, our history and technology courses are usually done in groups, which can be either a blessing or a challenge, depending on your groupmates. But I’ve been incredibly lucky—I’ve worked with two friends for four semesters now, and honestly, I don’t think I could have survived without them. Having that support system makes all the difference.

 

Twice a week, we have studio discussions with faculty. These are nerve-wracking because you never know how it’s going to go. Sometimes, they don’t say anything at all, and you’re left wondering how to interpret that. Other times, you get harsh feedback that leaves you questioning everything. There have been days when I’ve cried in a corner after a tough review. And if I don’t have enough work to show, I just want to disappear. But in the end, the discussions are valuable, especially the group critiques. They’re where I have learnt the most.

 

When jury time rolls around, the whole campus is abuzz with activity, and that’s when the all-nighters come into play. We often pull these night shifts together, and the best part is, you’re never alone. There’s something oddly comforting about everyone being sleep-deprived and laughing at silly things. Some of my best memories come from those nights—the midnight walks around campus when you just can’t stare at your sheet anymore, or the frantic back-and-forth of asking for opinions. But it’s not all fun and games. There are stressful moments, emotional breakdowns, and the occasional existential crisis too.

 

But I’m not much of a night owl—my brain just stops functioning if I push too hard. I remember my first all-nighter vividly, during my third semester. We had to cut around 500 contours, and we took turns working in shifts. Our fingers were numb from cutting hard jute boards, and we were so sleep-deprived that we couldn’t stop laughing at the stupidest things. 

Other nights, though, have been stressful, with that constant mental debate of whether I should just give up and sleep or push through. One night, I had to finish a six-floor model the night before my jury. I kept telling myself, “Just one more floor,” and somehow, I got through it. That night proved to me that I truly wanted to do architecture because I had the option to quit, but I didn’t. Why is it always a model? (ifukuk)

 

Sixteen weeks together creates a bond—sometimes it feels like trauma bonding. The site visits, group work, and inside jokes make each semester memorable, no matter how challenging it gets. Studio dinners and cheesecake do wonders for bringing us all together, no matter what chaos we’ve been through.

 

As this is probably my last studio, I find myself reflecting more on these experiences. I’ll miss the camaraderie, the late-night laughs, and even the stressful critiques. These moments have shaped not just my journey in architecture but also who I am. It’s bittersweet to know that this chapter is coming to an end, but I’ll always carry these memories with me. Studio really does become a second home, and I’m grateful for every bit of it.

 

Thanks for reading! I’d love to hear about your own studio experiences. Feel free to share your thoughts, questions, or stories in the comments below—I’m always excited to connect with others on this journey!