Issue 1 was about choosing an architect as choosing a mind under pressure. But pressure is not one thing. It changes shape depending on what you’re building. This is why I’ve written this note: before you decide who should lead your project, be clear about what kind of responsibility the project carries.
People speak about “residential” and “commercial” architecture as if they are two boxes
on a form. In practice, the difference is not category. It is consequence.

A home is built around a person. A commercial building is built around a system.
Both must handle light, heat, water, structure, and time. But they fail differently—and because they fail differently, they must be designed differently.

Who are you building for—really?

In a residence, the client is usually a family, a couple, a small circle. The brief is
intimate, even when it pretends to be technical. “We want openness.” “We want privacy.” Under those sentences are routines, ageing, children, habits, and the desire for calm.
In commercial work, the “client” is layered. There is the owner, the operator, the facility team, the brand team, sometimes the landlord, sometimes the investor. The building must serve people who will never meet the person funding it—employees, customers, tenants, visitors. It must function without being explained.
A home is designed for recognition: this feels like us. A commercial building is designed for reliability: this works every day.

What is the real design difference—if not “function vs feeling”?

The real difference is intimacy versus intensity.
Residential design is intimate. It is made of small decisions that become big over time: thresholds, privacy gradients, storage that prevents chaos, light that becomes a daily ritual.

Commercial design is intense. It is choreography under rules. Arrival, security, circulation, back-of-house, services, exits. HVAC zones and shafts aren’t “technical.” They are spatial commitments. Fire stairs aren’t “requirements.” They are architecture.

Why do regulations feel like a different universe?

Because they are.
Commercial work carries heavier scrutiny: fire safety, accessibility, occupancy loads, egress distances, parking logic, service access, documentation discipline. In commercial projects, you design as if the regulator is standing beside you—because eventually, they are.
A commercial drawing set is not only communication. It is accountability.

Why do timelines behave so differently?

Residential projects stretch for emotional reasons. Families pause because they’re
deciding how they want to live. That pause is part of the work.
Commercial projects stretch for procedural reasons: approvals, procurement, coordination, vendor lead times. But the pressure is toward speed because delays cost.
So the temperament required changes: residential needs patience without drift; commercial needs momentum without sloppiness.

How does budget thinking change?

Residential budgets are selective and personal. People spend where they touch, save
where they don’t care.
Commercial budgets are systematic. Cost is distributed across systems and operations. Maintenance and lifecycle matter because the building has to run—every day—without complaint.

How do you read a site in each case?

A residential site is read at human speed: neighbours, privacy lines, trees, noise, afternoon glare.
A commercial site is read at multiple speeds: pedestrian, car, service vehicle, emergency route. Deliveries, garbage, staff movement, customer arrival—if these aren’t designed early, they punish the project later.

Issue 3 stays in the commercial world and looks at the office—because few building types are changing faster right now, globally and in India, than the corporate workspace.