In the summer of 2000 I became a registered architect. At the time I had only used half of my scholarship from the Research Council of Norway and keen to study further I enrolled in an architectural course hosted by the Xi’an University of Architecture and Technology, in Xi’an, China (via my Norwegian University). Little did I know the course would yield one of the most important lessons of my life.

The course assignment was to design an extension to the Bei Lin Museum in Xi’an. The existing building is a typical example of Chinese vernacular architecture. My approach was simple. I would not speak about the poetics of architecture, but rather design a practical building, as beautiful as I could, that would speak for itself.

As the course I was enrolling would make no contribution to my architectural degree, I decided to design the building in my own style, instead of trying to please my lecturers as I had done throughout my entire life at University.

For the first time in my life I worked passionately on my project.

When the presentation day arrived I was asked to do a brief introduction of my project to my colleagues and five lecturers, which I did it with great enthusiasm. ‘Thanks for listening, any questions?’ I said upon reaching the end. My lecturers questions were forthcoming.

‘Where is the main entrance?’ was their first question. I may have shown disdain when I answered as I thought it was quite obvious. However their following comment was something to worry about, ‘I don’t like it,’ and from that moment on, regardless of my arguments, my project was simply destroyed.

When the hammering was finished I left the room in shame.

During the night I avoided meeting my colleagues and went out with Norwegian friends instead. My colleagues in a sign of support found my whereabouts and joined the same venue. I was truly disturbed and not in a mood for talking and their presence didn’t really help to heal my discontentment.

For my colleagues my project was faulty since the lecturers knew better. Unfortunately I don’t have the means to prove them wrong. Surprisingly, the lecturers didn’t fail me. They were clearly just upset with something. It wasn’t lack of work as I had never worked so hard. Even today when I revisit my project I often think I did a good job trying to emulate professional architecture when I had no tacit experience as a student.

I think the real question here is if I did the right thing “sticking to my guns” considering the outcome. It was a bitter experience to work like a perfectionist and be awarded with a “just about” mark. By working passionately I came to understand that passion makes even the most mundane task seem interesting, but it doesn’t mean the feeling is contagious and your peers will share the enthusiasm.

But one thing is clear to me, if I had approached the course like so many times before I would just do well and forget about it later on; and when I think about all the buildings I have designed at the University, the Bei Lin Museum is the only one that I would be able to redraw, almost every single line, without seeing an original drawing. I can only assume that it was my passionate working attitude that glued my ideas, even the concept, to my mind.

Working passionately does pay dividends regardless of the outcome.