When clients stop calling—or call less—panic inevitably sets in. At least, that’s what happens in my studio. The easy route would be to slash our prices, but that’s not something we even consider, because it would mean doing things worse. And that’s not our style.
Drama’s structure is a bit chaotic. There are three partners, and the number of employees fluctuates.
Years ago, I collaborated with two friends who, when it came time to launch their own studio, left me out. They had their reasons. “It’s just business, buddy.” Still, it hurt. And of course, I wasn’t about to do the same to Pablo and Eloy. So, tired of the studio being named after me, I started shaping it into a shared project.
For tax reasons, the simplest option was to split the new company equally between the three of us. I didn’t think too much of it. I was already a bit tired of carrying the whole load, and I figured it was a good moment for new leadership to emerge.
But we all have different ways of doing things. Running a company with such a horizontal structure turned out to be way harder than I expected. And on top of that, new dramas started popping up along the way. My move to Córdoba was one of them.
I had promised my girlfriend at the time (we’re now happily married) that I would go wherever her teaching post as an art professor took her. I didn’t think she’d land a position on her first try, to be honest. We were just starting to see the light at the end of the pandemic, and I had to sit down with my partners and tell them I was leaving.
If running a company is hard, doing it remotely is simply impossible. Or at least it is with the kind of lead-by-example leadership I try to embody (it’s the only kind I know how to do). So I went from being the conductor of the orchestra to the guy playing the triangle.
It took me a long time to understand my new role. It hurt to see how the personality of my “child” (the studio) was changing. Pablo and Eloy are amazing partners. Two of my best friends. But we’re very different. I think it’s because of our backgrounds. My training turned me into something like the main character of The Walking Dead—I take everything personally, I go to the edge in any direction. Even when it means hurting myself.
In September, I moved back to Madrid because Mariu was assigned to the Ministry of Education. I more or less returned to my old position. It felt strange for all of us. For Pablo and Eloy too. Those three years in Córdoba made me less temperate. I’ve lost the fear of losing everything. Friends, clients, everything.
Yesterday, I saw that Nieto Sobejano (historically our biggest client) was looking to hire another architect specialized in 3D (which is what we do) for their in-house team. It’s not the first time something like this has happened. Luckily, our survival no longer depends on just one or two clients. But still, it stings. I imagined Sandra Barneda saying: “Fran, there are images for you.” Everyone’s entitled to do what they have to do to get by. We’ve done the same.
It’s taken me years to emotionally detach from some of the architects I started out working with. I’ve come to understand the business, but I’m still working hard to make sure drama doesn’t lose that extreme empathy that makes us different.
Now we’re an expensive restaurant for a lot of studios. The party you splurge on when you can. And far from hurting me, that actually makes me really happy. Here I am, with linen tablecloths perfectly starched, Bohemian crystal glasses, ambitious starters, and the lighting just right. If this is a party, let’s enjoy it.
