Why We Still Sketch By Hand

There’s something irreplaceable about sketching by hand. Recently, I shared a small hand-drawn “book” of sketches with a client, rough ideas that evolved with the project. Their response reminded me of a quote from Juhani Pallasmaa in The Thinking Hand: “The pencil in the architect’s hand is a bridge between the imagining mind and the image that appears on the sheet of paper."

Those early moments, when ideas are loose, imperfect, and full of possibility, belong to the hand. A pencil sketch allows thought to move at the same pace as intuition. It invites exploration rather than certainty. Of course, digital tools have transformed our practice. We can model light, test performance, and visualise a building long before it exists. But I’ve come to see that these tools don’t replace the hand; they expand its reach. The real challenge isn’t choosing between the analog and the digital, but giving space for both, the thinking hand and the thinking machine.

The Seduction Of Complexity

We’ve entered an era where software can generate forms that once seemed impossible. Dramatic curves, parametric façades, and entire buildings shaped by algorithms. Yet I often wonder: does complexity make it better?

In The Antibox, Dutch architect Reinier de Graaf writes, “An architecture of novelty often forgets the quiet dignity of clarity.” It’s a line that rings true. As technology accelerates, so does the temptation to design for spectacle rather than substance, to stand out rather than belong.

What We Hold Onto

At HB, we try to hold onto a quieter kind of intention. Simple geometries that allow flexibility and purpose. Contextual forms that respond to place, not shout over it. Architecture that prioritises longevity over novelty. Spaces that endure and serve their purpose well.

The future of architecture doesn’t have to mean abandoning the past. It can mean carrying forward the craft, empathy, and curiosity that the hand has always embodied, while embracing the precision and potential of the digital.

Because in a world chasing icons, restraint can be radical.