By Dr Farah Al Hashimi
This is a reflection on my personal connection to Frank Gehry and his influence on my life and work.
December 5th, for me, is a day that captures life’s inherent duality – the weaving together of joy and sorrow. I fondly remember receiving my PhD certificate in Nottingham, and it’s the birthdays of my dear ones. Yet, it’s also the day we lost Frank Gehry, one of my architectural heroes. A true visionary, Gehry’s innovative designs forever transformed skylines and our understanding of architecture.
Why Frank Gehry?
My connection to this legend is deeply personal. During my architectural studies in Baghdad, especially when exploring deconstruction, I discovered Gehry alongside luminaries like Peter Eisenman and Zaha Hadid. Often considered a deconstructivist architect, Gehry challenged traditional norms with his fragmented, non-linear designs. I was particularly fascinated by his use of fish motifs, inspired by their forms, movement, and adaptability – a symbol of freedom and fluidity he translated into dynamic, organic structures.
It was his Guggenheim project in Bilbao, Spain, that truly ignited my imagination. It fuelled my MSc dissertation and taught me the importance of innovation, challenging architectural conventions, and how a new addition can transform a place and breathe life into it. Gehry’s work instilled in me the belief that architecture can be a catalyst for profound change. The Guggenheim Museum not only exemplifies his groundbreaking approach but also inspired me to embrace creativity and push the boundaries of my own work.
In my own design approach, I explore concepts through sketch models, preferring to start with a sketch and then work directly with the model, rather than relying solely on digital representations. I later discovered that Gehry shared this preference, using physical models to investigate architectural shapes – a method that became a signature part of his design process!
Another connection came from advice I heard in one of his interviews. It’s amazing how someone you’ve never met can change your life. That’s what happened to me; those words arrived from an unexpected source and pushed me to start my own practice in my twenties.
I was born and raised in Baghdad, but after the 2003 war, I moved to Bahrain. Then, in 2008 I spent three enriching years working in Iraqi Kurdistan, in a picturesque city called Duhok. I was teaching at the university and engaging in freelance work in the evening with a colleague and his partners in his office.
Fuelled by an unwavering passion for architecture, coupled with some financial considerations, I decided to establish my own practice. A civil engineer colleague, with whom I had collaborated on several projects, not only encouraged me but also became my business partner. Despite my sister’s worries—her concerns about my prospects as a female architect in a male-dominated field and the financial challenges of securing projects and paying office rent—my determination to pursue my aspirations only intensified.
While I was considering this decision, I stumbled upon valuable advice by chance.
I listened to an interview with Frank Gehry.
Was this a coincidence?
I know Gehry has given many interviews, but why did this one cross my path? It felt like the universe was pointing me in a certain direction.
In this interview, he said: “I always tell my students to be themselves and find their own way, as you cannot be what the next person is. Be yourself and carve your own path, and slowly you will become an expert in your work. Over time, if there is any good, it will reveal itself in the bigger picture.”
That advice resonated deeply, giving me the courage to launch my own architecture practice in 2009 with a business partner. I believe I was the first female architect to establish an independent practice in a city where the profession is largely led by men, with women often in supporting roles.
Gehry’s words empowered me to embrace that opportunity, even though I had only been living in the city for more than a year.
Because Gehry’s words deeply resonated with me, I shared the interview with my students at Duhok university, emphasising the importance of forging their own paths and encouraging thoughtful reflection.
In Iraq, an architecture degree is a five-year program that results in a degree in Architectural Engineering. The Engineers Union regulates architectural practices. Unlike the UK, Iraq does not have a dedicated institution like the Architects Registration Board (ARB) or RIBA specifically for architects.
The term ‘architect’ became common in Iraq in the early 20th century, during the British administration and the establishment of the Iraqi kingdom (1921), followed by full independence in 1932, marking the rise of modern Iraq. Before 1920, British architects collaborated with skilled local master builders (Ustas) under the British mandate. They designed important structures like train stations, colleges, palaces, and hospitals, many still in use. These master builders, who could be considered the architects of their time, created intricate brick decorations and impressive designs with bricks, a material first developed by the Sumerians in Mesopotamia (modern-day Iraq) over 6000 years ago.
In 1918, James Mollison Wilson, a Scottish architect, became Deputy Director of Civil Works in Baghdad, later becoming Director of Public Works in Iraq in 1920. His office was located in the former Turkish government building. Previously, he assisted Sir Edwin Lutyens in New Delhi. In Baghdad, Wilson focused on designing and constructing essential facilities such as the Basra hospital in 1921, a palace for King Faisal I in 1926, as well as post offices and roads. Wilson aimed to create culturally sensitive architecture, drawing inspiration from historic Islamic buildings he saw through archaeological trips with Gertrude Bell, who founded the Baghdad Archaeological Museum. Much of Iraq’s architecture at the time was done by Ustas, one of them collaborated with Wilson.
During this period, young Iraqi architects and artists were sent abroad to study, returning in the early 1940s. In 1950, the Iraqi Reconstruction Council was established. In the 1950s, king Faisal II invited renowned Modernist architects like Frank Lloyd Wright, Le Corbusier, Walter Gropius, and Constantinos Doxiadis to shape Baghdad’s modern image, designing buildings like the Planning Ministry, the University of Baghdad, sport complex, the Baghdad Opera House and other buildings. This allowed young Iraqi architects to work with them. After the coup that established Iraq as a republic, the system changed, leading to the creation of the Iraqi Engineers Union in 1959.
My business was founded on a partnership based on shared responsibility, mutual trust, and ethical practices. I focused on the design aspects, while my business partner handled the mechanical, electrical, and structural engineering services. We employed freelance engineers on a per-project basis. Site visits were often conducted by us to oversee the implementation of my designs and ensure the quality of work. Upon launching our business, we already had a house design prepared. Our client base was primarily residential, followed by commercial clients, investors, and those in the healthcare sector. Unlike in the UK, there was no readily available directory of registered architects at the time. Duhok was a relatively small city, and our network grew organically through word-of-mouth, visibility of our projects, and personal connections. Our marketing relied on business cards, email, and personal interactions. We established our office in a commercial building on a main thoroughfare in central Duhok. It consisted of two main rooms, a large reception area, a kitchen, and toilet facilities. We fully furnished the space and equipped it with printers. I proactively networked with suppliers, gathering samples of various construction materials. I also searched the city for quality workmanship, often visiting construction sites while driving around to connect with builders and contractors whose work impressed me. Gradually, I built a strong and reliable team.
Eventually, I started to feel that I could design anything and felt confident in tackling any project after conducting the necessary research. My work in Iraqi Kurdistan led to me receiving the 2015 Rising Star award for Tamayouz Women in Architecture and Construction, an announcement made by Angela Brady OBE, former president of RIBA.
Moving to the UK in 2011 was not an easy decision, as it required me to start a new chapter and leave behind the work I had been doing for the previous two years. Although I tried to keep my previous work going while studying, I reached a point where I realised that without being physically present, I couldn’t control the quality of the work. So, I returned and made the difficult decision to close my office, “Horizon Bureau,” to pursue my PhD, which was a different experience for me, adding a new perspective.
Having a director of studies like Professor Soumyen Bandyopadhyay showed me a different way to see and appreciate architecture and history, and it reignited my childhood interest in archaeology that was implanted by my father, Dr. Wissam Al-Hashimi, a well-known geologist with an interest in different areas of Iraq, including ancient cities. He used to take us to archaeological sites during school holidays, at a time when the Iraqi government built facilities to make them tourist attractions. I remember collecting broken pieces of ancient colourful glass and ceramic that I found amongst the sand while climbing to get to the ziggurats or visiting sites like Babylon
My enriching journey in Iraqi Kurdistan was inspired by advice from Frank Gehry. His advice to young architects, like his designs, has had a lasting impact, encouraging and empowering others. Gehry’s legacy of beautiful designs will undoubtedly endure.
Interestingly, Frank Gehry was a Canadian-American architect, and I happened to be visiting my family in Canada when I learned of his passing. It felt like a strange coincidence.
I’ve always wished for a mentor with whom I could collaborate, learn from, admire, and who could directly guide my professional development. However, life had other plans, leading me to learn from figures in books and online. Frank Gehry was one of these influential figures, along with Peter Eisenman, whom I hope to meet next year.
These individuals have shaped my architectural perspective, along with my PhD supervisor (director of studies) Professor Soumyen Bandyopadhyay and their inspiration continues to drive my work.
I’m thankful for all the lessons I’ve learned on this journey.
