Learning Isn’t Measured in Time. How a Single Question Transformed My Perspective on Design, Responsibility, and the Will to Care

by Isabella Souleimanov

“How much can you learn in two months?” 

This very question was posed directly to us, the students of the Architecture for Common Spaces course, by none other than Sir David Chipperfield. 

That day, we had the honor to attend the presentation of his project “Giardini francescani”. The lecture was inspiring, and the choice to represent the project through watercolor drawings made me reflect on the depth required for such detail. 

We had a small chat with him at the end of his presentation, and when he understood the format of the academy, he then posed that question. The use of hand-drawn techniques, rather than quick renderings, suggested an inherent commitment to slowness and precision, making his challenge – how much can you learn in two months? – even more potent. None of us could answer properly – and, in all fairness, we still don’t know the answer. 

Now, having had time to process what I’ve been learning over the past two months, I want to answer that question differently. A great deal can happen in just two months. I believe the biggest changes in life rarely occur over a long period of time. More often, it’s the sudden shifts that make us question our reality, our convictions, and our approach. Yacademy’s program is an intense journey, lasting approximately 10 weeks. Yet, I believe one can learn profoundly during that timeframe. My realization was that this learning wasn’t about accumulating technical knowledge; it was about the fundamental transformation of my architectural perspective. For me, it was something else entirely. 

I had the privilege of being in the same room with two Pritzker laureates. I traveled to three distinct places, and each one brought new insights. Ortigia instilled in me the importance of the human scale in public space. Perugia – where I met Chipperfield – was where I realized that in this digital era, my most important asset is my hand, the way I articulate ideas through my own way of drawing them. It showed me that rendering is not always the best path, and that different representations convey different messages. 

Porto, however, was in a category of its own. The city itself speaks volumes to people in our field, with the way it unfolds over the hills toward the river, in a succession of varying styles and scales. Few people can say they met their favorite architect, but there I had this profound opportunity. We met Álvaro Siza in his studio and attended a small lecture focusing on one of his key works. The care he pours into his projects was palpable in his studio, and that experience forced me to reflect on my own priorities in design. I understood there how, for me, design is an act of will and responsibility.  

Last but not least, the people you’ll learn most from are often not the lecturers, but your colleagues: the ones taking the journey with you. They came from vastly different parts of the world, and each offered a unique approach to conceiving and shaping space. These connections shaped my experience, making me realize how limited one’s perspective is without the courage to look deeper and step outside their comfort zone. 

I believe you can learn far more than expected in two months, provided you give yourself the chance. Two months is not a measure of knowledge, but a measure of transformation. I may not have found the exact answer to that initial question, but I found something more essential: the realization that design is, at its core, an ethical commitment. It’s the dedication I try to embody every day. This intensive journey has proven that the lasting value of my profession lies not in the blueprints or the speed of the output, but in the will to care. That, I now know, is the only answer that truly matters.