LEGALIZING EMPOWERMENT: ONE TOOL FOR INCLUSION NOBODY’S TALKING ABOUT


November 30, 2020

Like every other industry today, architecture & design are having serious, soul-searching conversations around diversity, equity, and inclusion. But we may be missing a straightforward legal adjustment that could change the inner workings of the industry in profound and positive ways. 

Our industry has focused for a long time on the overwhelming whiteness of the designer/architect pipeline. We have centered our diversity and inclusivity action plans on outreach to incoming generations of BIPOC (Black, Indigiouness, and people of color) college, high school, even elementary students who’ve historically not been exposed to or recruited by our industry. Programs like Architects in the Schools, Hip Hop Architecture, and Citizen Schools, among others, have all made great strides in beginning to close that talent gap. And for those who love our craft, sharing it with BIPOC students may naturally be the most attractive and sustainable form of activism.

But the emphasis on industry pipeline ignores the barriers to professional advancement young BIPOC designers face once they’ve joined the profession. In spite of decades of efforts public and private, in our industry, female designers, queer designers, black and brown designers are often still working for straight, white, male architects.

The current demographic makeup of the industry—and the undeniably different makeup of its leadership—is not just due to the discriminatory practices of individuals or companies. It is the inescapable result of regulatory laws that have failed to evolve with the industry and have resultantly granted disproportionate power to one class and professional category over all others. Despite years of diversification of design specialties, architects—who are overwhelmingly white and male—remain the legally designated authorities over our entire industry.

The history of commercial interior design explains this. Our discipline emerged from the practice of architecture in the last half of the 20th century due to the increased complexity of interior spaces and a new demand for thoughtfully designed interiors. Whereas interiors used to be just the accidental result of external architecture, in the 1960s and 70s both clients and designers began to see the potential for interiors to function as spaces that would help employees work more efficiently, students learn more effectively, patients heal more quickly. Interiors could, more generally, improve the quality of life for everyone who moved through and occupied them. This awareness created a new focus and need for a professional perspective independent from that of traditional architecture. Thus the commercial interior designer was born. 

In addition to those personal and workplace challenges, the state has erected a legal barrier to professional advancement for non-architects. Commercial interior designers are not included in the California State Civil Code’s definition of Design Professionals, and they typically cannot submit drawings for permit without the stamp and signature of an architect. An ambitious commercial interior designer thus faces a professional impasse, and can find they have no pathway to ownership at all, since achieving this legal authority is often a requirement. 

Is it ethical to encourage young students to get a degree in a field which doesn’t allow them access to the hallmarks of power in the industry? Do students know their choice of interior design over architecture may mean they never get the opportunity to submit drawings for acceptance at a building department all on their own, and may prevent them from ever achieving a position of ownership?

The practice of the law, itself, proves its antiquity. Architects aren’t generating all these drawings themselves; they are often stamping the work of commercial interior designers which includes details and specifications unfamiliar to them. These specifications, of course, represent the daily work and core competency of commercial interior design. It’s clear that the state needs to establish a new tier of recognition for qualified commercial interior designers that acknowledges and respects the specialized training and knowledge of commercial interior designers, who ensure that all citizens have safe, accessible, useful spaces to move through. 

The idea of creating a new and particularly rigorous requirement for full participation in the industry might seem wrong-headed in terms of increasing diversity and equity. But as sociologist Beth Redbird’s research has found, “licensure… creates a set of institutional mechanisms that enhance entry into the occupation, particularly for historically disadvantaged groups…” In other words, providing a clear path to advancement allows people to pursue and achieve it equally, without such exclusionary considerations as personal connections and subjective assessments of style that in the past have served to suppress greater diversity among practitioners. In Redbird’s sample of 300 occupations over 30 years, the creation of occupational licensure increased the proportion of Black workers by more than 3%. Given the current demographics of our industry, 3% would be a significant improvement. 

Importantly, associating real professional benefits like the ability to stamp and sign drawings with occupational licensure would not just increase the proportion of historically marginalized populations in the profession. Bestowing legal authority on interior designers through certification would qualify them for entry into partnerships and other senior leadership positions, from which they are now often technically excluded. In the short-to-mid-term, this would inevitably elevate a more diverse population into positions of ownership within the architecture and design world overall. 

If we want BIPOC individuals to join, enrich, and diversify our profession—and we do, far beyond simply responding to the social pressure of this moment—we owe them a future that presents unfettered potential for leadership, ownership, influence, respect, and impact. Licensure of commercial interior designers is a critical change we can make right now to help level the playing field and open up those opportunities.

Laura Taylor is a designer at ASD|SKY and the IIDA Northern California Chapter VP of Advocacy


We Keep the Public Safe

We Keep the Public Safe

On Friday, November 21, 1980, the MGM Grand Hotel, one of the centerpieces of the Las Vegas Strip, had a fire that started small but quickly spread through the property, with devastating effects. The fire killed 85 people, and in the weeks that followed, it would force a wholesale re-evaluation in high-rise building code. Its greatest legacy, however, may be the way it forever changed our understanding of Commercial Interior Design.

The MGM Grand fire remains the deadliest disaster in Nevada history and the third-deadliest hotel fire in modern U.S. history. The fire, itself, however, wasn’t what killed the victims. The burning decorative materials, instead, created toxic fumes and smoke which ascended throughout the hotel tower. Those interior materials also contributed to the speed with which the fire overtook the building. Combustible furnishing and interior finishes, foam padding, and moldings allowed for an extremely rapid fire spread and heavy smoke production.

The end result was that dozens of people were trapped or overcome before they had any chance to escape.

This tragedy has led to many changes in building codes, material uses, and studies on the toxicity of building materials and their impact on the environment and the health and safety of occupants. The MGM fire, as much as any modern incident, reminds us of the importance of designing buildings that keep people safe.


In short, the MGM fire defined the need for skilled, expert Commercial Interior Designers—a professional designation that had never existed before, but which, in the 40 years since, has only grown in importance. Today, commercial interior designers play a large role in the health and safety of the occupants of every public and commercial building. 

Designing for commercial spaces means designing for the public at large. We are not just designing for ourselves (our aesthetic, our preferences). The health and safety of all those who enter and use these spaces has always been paramount, even prior to the COVID-19 pandemic.

Today architects design much safer buildings than in the days of the MGM fire, but interior designers have not historically been required to meet similar standards of education, experience and oversight. In fact, even 40 years later, Commercial Interior Designers are still struggling to be recognized legally as “design professionals.” Following the MGM fire, Nevada and Florida began to regulate Commercial Interior Designers, registering them as “Licensed Design Professionals”. Here in California, interior designers are not legally recognized as “design professionals.”

So how do we elevate our profession to illustrate the value of our extensive knowledge of health and safety standards in design? We start with a good foundation of education and relevant experience. Our profession also seeks to establish legal recognition through testing, certification or registration, and continuing education to maintain certification throughout one’s career. Currently across the country, the requirements for legal recognition and oversight vary greatly from state to state.

The most common testing for the profession is the NCIDQ (National Council of Interior Design Qualifications) exam administered by the Council of Interior Design Qualifications, which is recognized among professionals as by far the most authoritative, rigorous, and reliable. Here in California, the state instead relies on the IDEX (Interior Design Exam) created and administered by the California Council for Interior Design Certification.

The IDEX does include topics which are specific to California code, which the standard NCIDQ does not. However, many of California’s Commercial Interior Designers elect to take the NCIDQ, anyway, in order to establish their credentials within the industry and to demonstrate their adherence to this higher standard of understanding of commercial interior design principles, expertise, and best practices.

One of the biggest differences between the exam systems is in their approaches to updates — an important consideration in an industry that is constantly changing due to new technologies, new products on the market, and new trends that could easily run afoul of safety standards if followed blindly. To ensure the NCIDQ maintains its rigor, CIDQ regularly gathers a small group of professional interior designers from around the country to discuss the profession in detail and focus on the real world practice of interior design. This practice analysis, unlike anything in the IDEX system, examines how the profession has evolved and what new elements or significant trends need more focus in upcoming exams. As a previous participant in these sessions, I’m inspired by how this process ensures the NCIDQ exam provides up-to-date value to the profession — and therefore the public.

Commercial Interior Designers seek to learn from the past and prepare better for the future. We focus on design and the health and safety of those we are designing for. Our profession was born from disaster, and we look to protect against future incidents by arming ourselves with the best education, deepest expertise, and most up-to-date and consistent standards we can establish.

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Bill Weeman, IIDA, NCIDQ, CID

Associate Principal at AECOM in San Francisco