A Bush Fellowship Fuels Nathan Johnson’s Vision for a People-Focused Movement in How We Build
Interview by Mary-Margaret Zindren | May 13, 2021
Bush Foundation
FEATURE
ENTER publisher Mary-Margaret Zindren sat down with Nathan Johnson, AIA, NOMA—co-recipient of the 2020 AIA Minnesota Gold Medal and the first Black president of AIA Minnesota, in 2018—to learn more about the 4RM+ULA architect’s plans for the prestigious grant.
Mary-Margaret Zindren: Congratulations on receiving a Bush Fellowship! I know it’s a rigorous process. To be chosen is such an honor. How does it feel?
Nathan Johnson: Feels great. I was ecstatic. Your anxiety is high as you’re going through the process because it’s kind of a pressure cooker. You write your first essay, you respond to some additional questions, and then there’s a series of interviews—I want to say it was four or five interviews in a single day with people from Minnesota and the Dakotas.
I got to have real conversations with them. What I found is that it was a process of self-discovery, which is really . . . I mean, leadership is about self-discovery. It’s not as simple as me just saying, “I’m here. I’m a leader.” It’s more about, “How do I want to lead in a way that’s more intentional?” To think differently. To dream big. Throughout the process, you’re framing your ambitions and bouncing ideas off of brilliant minds. They’re thinking about a lot of things that we architects are thinking about, even if they’re looking [at them] through a different lens.
MMZ: I don’t know if you’re like this, but I tend to hone my ideas through conversation. So, the more I talk with other people, the greater clarity I have about what I’m aiming for, and why it matters.
NJ: And you know what’s kind of interesting, one of the biggest things I learned through this process is that, while I do bounce ideas off people a lot, it’s often more about ideas and less about feeling, right? That’s what was different about this [Bush Fellowship] process; as you open yourself up to people and let them in, it shapes you—it changes your way of thinking. I had to be a little bit vulnerable in telling my story. And that was probably the most powerful experience I had, beginning to open myself up to people.
It’s the amount of . . . I don’t even know what to call it. Compassion? Empathy? The willingness of people to open up to you, too. That’s pretty powerful. Because we all have stories. I mean, that’s the reality of it. We all have deep stories, and we all have our idiosyncrasies. We all live life.
“Those of us in the design and construction industry need to start a movement that puts people back at the center of what we do and why we do it. The voice of the community needs to be at the forefront of the projects we create.”
MMZ: So, to that point, I’ve gotten to know you pretty well over our past six years of working together. But when you shared your application with me, I learned for the first time about your personal story and your path to becoming an architect. Are you comfortable with us sharing that story?
NJ: Yeah, definitely. I’m not trying to hide my story, so yes.
From Johnson’s Bush Fellowship application:
In the spring of 1985, I was a nine-year-old boy who watched his father burn down our home. I stood there in utter disbelief and confusion; the man I loved the most in this world was destroying ours.
Over the next nine months, I watched the rebuilding of our home. I was able to observe the creative process of taking something that had been destroyed and then transforming it into a place I would call home once again.
The whole process was healing for me, and I was utterly fascinated. I asked my mom to take me to the house weekly, so I could see the house reconstructed. When the house was complete, I celebrated. I felt as if I had created this new place; the pain of the fire seemed to fade.
However, six months after the house was complete, my father stuffed his pants with coins and rocks and walked into Powderhorn Lake.
A week later, I walked into our recently built house with glee in my heart. I would touch the walls as I came in, and a tingle would run up my arm, enjoying my home. My mom, along with my dad’s best friend, sat me on the couch and told me my dad had died. I was 10. My whole body collapsed in heartache as I cried, and I remember saying no, no, no, for more than an hour.
After I finished saying no, I went numb, and I stopped talking.
My mom bought me a drawing table, my dad’s best friend brought me pens and pencils, and it seemed like everyone I knew in the community got me drawing paper. That drawing table became my place of solace. I spent hours drawing new ideas for our home. I drew pictures of the city. I created our neighborhood from memory. I am an introvert, and drawing became my primary outlet to help me heal.
Slowly but surely, my voice came back. I became happy again, and I started making friends. The drawing table expanded its role to be more than just a surface [on which] to draw; I built models on it. I studied at the drawing table. In high school, I focused my studies on a desire to become an architect. I did an externship at the largest architecture firm in town, and I applied to the top architecture schools in the country for college. As a young African American boy, I knew that out of pain, I had found my purpose. A beautiful community had wrapped itself around me, and in turn, I determined I would use my talent to help re-create that very same community.
MMZ: Your path was really shaped by the community that surrounded you with love and support following the loss of your home and the loss of your father. And also after architecture school, when you returned to Minneapolis after your grandfather had a massive stroke. Both loss and love seemed to have shaped your career trajectory. How do you think those experiences have shaped your architecture?
NJ: Most of us have been shaped by some tragedy in our lives—sometimes multiple tragedies. I think I’ve been learning how to process this over time. What I think it has done for me in terms of my architecture . . . it’s my willingness to listen.
And it’s not just in my architecture—it’s in my teaching [Johnson has taught at Minneapolis College for 17 years]. I was meeting with a student just this morning, and he was telling me his story and his challenges.
And it relates to equity [in the profession and in the built environment]. A lot of times we want to think from a very prescriptive lens. Like, this is the way things are done, and this is the way things should happen. But the reality is that we’re all human. We come at things from different angles and perspectives. And brilliance doesn’t have a single size or form. So, what I think my experience has taught me is kind of that willingness to listen and just be patient.
MMZ: Let’s talk a bit about how you’re going to fulfill your Bush Fellowship. I understand that, in addition to engaging in multiple educational opportunities, you’ll be traveling to Fès, Morocco, and Santiago, Cuba, historically significant cities that represent the African diaspora.
And you’re hoping to spend time with some world-renowned leaders and innovators—that you’ll reach out to Bryan Stevenson [the social justice activist, lawyer, and founder of the National Memorial for Peace and Justice] and Edward Mazria, FAIA [2021 AIA Gold Medal winner and founder of the think tank Architecture 2030, a leader in collective action to achieve a carbon-neutral built environment by 2040], to talk about how to change systems within an industry.
NJ: I have this idea that those of us in the design and construction industry need to start a movement that puts people back at the center of what we do and why we do it. The voice of the community needs to be at the forefront of the projects we create. The underrepresented need a seat at the table to be part of the conversation that informs how we design the places and spaces where they live and work.
I want to change the existing structures within the design and construction industry to include the ideas and values of communities of color. I firmly believe that by infusing racial equity into design and construction, we will make the cities we live in more impactful for all residents’ health, safety, and economic benefit.
I can’t say definitively that I’m going to get the opportunity to meet with Bryan Stevenson and Edward Mazria, but I’m going to try very hard to connect with them.
I also want to talk to people when I travel [as part of this fellowship]. At the first stage of the application process, I was thinking mostly about wanting to see buildings and meet with architects. But now I want to go engage the people in each place—to fully immerse myself in their culture and community. I’ve seen interesting buildings all over the world, and I’ll continue to do so. But culture is something different. I want to visit cities unlike any I have experienced or that I learned about in architecture school, and to connect with the community and culture in these places.
MMZ: So, you’ve already established yourself as a community leader and a leader in the profession of architecture. At the end of your Bush Fellowship, I expect that your voice will be even stronger. Looking ahead a few years, what do you hope will be different in the world because of this fellowship and your advocacy?
NJ: The biggest thing I want to happen in 10 years is that I’m not the only Black voice in the room when a significant project is being planned—that multiple voices of color are present and in decision-making roles. I want BIPOC people to have access to opportunity and leadership. We have just witnessed and experienced a seismic disruption to outdated social, economic, and political constructs right here in Minneapolis. This disruption has forced all of us to reexamine how we are champions for the cause of racial equity. I hope that, through this fellowship and my contributions to design and construction through advocacy and leadership, real change will happen.
Congratulations also to Patricia Acevedo Fuentes, AIA, NOMA, an architect based in South Dakota who has also been selected as a 2021 recipient of the Bush Fellowship. Previous Bush Fellows who are members of the Minnesota architecture community include Michael Fischer, AIA (1997), Raymond Dehn (2012), and Malini Srivastava, AIA (2014).