My latest book came about after sitting through one too many conference presentations earlier in my career in which every smart building project appeared to have gone perfectly. The technology worked, the users embraced it and the client was delighted. Any difficulties had apparently been resolved in time for the end of project photographer.
My experience, at the time, had been somewhat different. Projects were difficult, technology failed and people behaved in ways that the team and I had not anticipated. Ideas that seemed entirely reasonable around a meeting table became less convincing when introduced into a building with actual occupants, existing systems and an operations team with other things to do.
For a while, I wondered whether I was simply worse at this than everyone else. More candid conversations with other practitioners eventually reassured me. They had their own stories of misjudgment, frustration and expensive lessons. Those stories just rarely made it onto the stage.
That gap really mattered to me. The version of practice we share influences the decisions other people make. When we present an outcome without explaining the revisions, compromises and unsuccessful attempts behind it, we give others an incomplete account of what delivery requires. A prospective client may underestimate the organisational effort involved. A practitioner may repeat an avoidable mistake. A leadership team may approve a programme with expectations that nobody can reasonably meet.
There are understandable reasons for this. Clients deserve discretion, commercial relationships need protecting and few people volunteer to attach their name to something that went wrong. Yet we ought to be able to examine a poor decision without identifying every organisation involved. Otherwise, much of the knowledge acquired through delivery stays with the people who happened to be in the room.
Some of the most useful questions concern what we assumed before work began. Did we establish that people wanted the proposed service? Had we understood how the building was operated? Was somebody responsible for acting on the information the technology would produce? What evidence justified extending an initial deployment across a portfolio? These questions deserve space alongside the architecture diagrams and photographs.
They also make failure a more demanding subject than the familiar encouragement to “fail fast” suggests. Buildings involve substantial capital, long operating lives and people who must live with the consequences of our decisions. An unsuccessful experiment still consumes somebody’s budget and time. Learning requires us to explain what happened, examine our own contribution and change the next decision. Simply relabelling disappointment as innovation achieves very little.
My new book, 10 Times I Failed at Smart Buildings, grew out of that concern. I wanted to write the account of my first projects, that I would have found useful during that phase of my career: an honest examination of experiences that became messy, uncomfortable or occasionally absurd, and what they taught me about technology, buildings and people. Some of those lessons were embarrassing to acquire. They are also difficult to forget.
Writing about them meant revisiting my own judgement. It is easier to describe an uncooperative system or an unexpected response than to ask why I was so confident in the first place.
I remain ambitious about what technology can achieve in the built environment. That ambition needs a professional culture in which people can discuss the work as it happened, including the assumptions they abandoned and the decisions they would now make differently. The next time we present a successful project, we should explain what we got wrong along the way and how we corrected it. That would give the audience something they could use when they returned to their own buildings.
In Dr Marson’s monthly column, he’ll be chronicling his thoughts and opinions on the latest developments, trends, and challenges in the Smart Buildings industry and the wider world of construction. Whether you’re a seasoned pro or just starting out, you’re sure to find something of interest here.
Something to share? Contact the author: column@matthewmarson.com
About the author:
Matthew Marson is an experienced leader, working at the intersection of technology, sustainability, and the built environment. He was recognised by the Royal Academy of Engineering as Young Engineer of the Year for his contributions to the global Smart Buildings industry. Having worked on some of the world’s leading smart buildings and cities projects, Matthew is a keynote speaker at international industry events related to emerging technology, net zero design and lessons from projects. He is author of The Smart Building Advantage and is published in a variety of journals, earning a doctorate in Smart Buildings.