Bother Bob
03/01/26
I dreamt about Bob last night. Although he always preferred “Robert.”
I had been chucked out of college for hitting the bottle more than hitting the books. After a few months of wandering aimlessly and spending money I shouldn’t have, I loaded up my little 280z and drove through a snowstorm to Portland, Oregon. My thought was that I would try again at a small private school called The Oregon School of Design. Sidenote: Brad Cloepfield taught there, but other than Brad, and possibly David R -the school head, a lot of the teachers were swept up in the fashion of Post Modernism that was raging at the time. After all, Graves’ Portlandia Building was still the talk of the town and beyond, even though the locals had a confusing time finding the entrance and/or looking out the windows. I actually liked the building -but more from a unique approach to color and massing, and would walk by it often -back when one could walk downtown mostly unencumbered.
The school mentioned the opportunity to work with local architects. I thought about it, but wasn’t too sure. Then one day I saw a publication with the Stevens Residence by local Lake Oswego architect Robert Harvey Oschatz. I asked the school to make an introduction.
“Are you sure, Dan?” asked my studio teacher. “His stuff is out there.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” My thought was that if I could learn to build like this guy, I could build anything.
Robert was cool. His house on Elk Rock Road was cool. His studio was cool. I had left my organic-Frank-Lloyd-Wright worship stage back in the small town I grew up in. And Robert was a guy who had worked for FLLW Junior as a wet-behind-the-ears college kid. Robert was definitely “organic.” He joined the pantheon of architects like Wright, E. Faye Jones (Thorn Crown Chapel -which I revisited on my motorcycle trip to first Portland, then North Dakota, then Montana, and then up to Alaska last year), Bart Prince, and others. I was not organic. But I loved some of the formal approaches he took to his work.
Forms like inverted cones, and spherical tubes which would come to mind years later when walking through Portman’s catch-and-release sky tubes at the Atlanta Marriott Marquis before being deposited in the large rib-cage-like atrium space. (Worth seeing).
Robert tolerated the brash and wild-donkey-of-a-man guy that I was back then. I was braggadocious and impetuous. For those of you who know me, this is a shocker, right? I was rude and uncouth. A couple of decades of essentially raising myself and I “thought” I had life by the private parts.
He had me redraw one of his projects to gain an appreciation of scale and module.
“It’s important, but you cannot be a slave to it.”
He allowed me to listen as he phoned the symphony to cancel his season tickets. A slow year in the studio. I appreciated the humility and the discipline.
He found out I was a SeaBee with the reserves and asked me to rebuild his studio deck. Then he asked me to work as a carpenter’s apprentice on the William’s Residence where I could see how he was framing those tube-like forms out of wood. The house was interesting and honest in the sense that it was complete and told the same story -even though it had been a remodel and addition. The second owner of the home destroyed that honest voice by “improving it.” I visited it back in the VM Zinc days and couldn’t believe what I was looking at… something wrong, but it took me a minute to figure out what it was.
Last night we were walking through his home, but it had a secret bunker that did not exist before. My guess is that it does not exist now. A few years ago when I stopped my wandering and then eventually started this one man band of a small studio I call “Dakota,” I wanted to call him and ask, “Bob, would you be willing to mentor an old man?” It had been over a decade since I had been in an architectural office other than to sell zinc or offer company sanctioned design-assist with detailing of roofs and walls.
I mentioned this in the dream. That I had been wanting to call him. To say, on occasion, “What do you think of this detail?” or to ask if I was okay departing from the standard regurgitated stuff I see around me in a true flash of insecurity. Or even the more pedestrian, “How do you get these budgets, Bob?” Passive-house design standards come in at a pretty penny, but smoke the standard code-minimum crap that seems to populate like uncontrolled rabbits. Bob answered the first question in the dream by referencing a popular text book in almost every college in America. I didn’t hear him at first and then it seeped in slowly, carefully, and I realized that he was right. Bob answered the second and third with his almost-iconic smile and shrug. I still see him in his studio -high above the Willamette river with a soft spring breeze coming through an open window. A huge smile and a shrug.
He was walking me down stairs. First one series of stairs. Then another. He opened a wide and heavy door that was perfectly balanced and therefore light. He opened a cabinet and was reaching in to show me something. And then I woke up.
“NO!” I thought. “What was it? What were you going to show me, Bob?” It was two-something in the A of the frickin’ M. My wife stirred beside me. I laid there and thought about Bob. The memories rushing back. I wondered, and still wonder, if he is okay. It’s now four-something in the same A of the M. The “frickin’” part is gone. After all, my math puts Robert somewhere around 80+ years old now.
A few weeks ago I saw a listing on a real estate site for a spec home by none other than Robert Harvey Oschatz. It was big and wonderfully under construction. Some of Robert’s knowledge on full display for anyone with a large screen monitor. Occasionally I will see one of his projects on HGTV, or even a Prime special revolving around “Amazing Homes” or something like that.
Our time together was brief. We don’t hang out and play Canasta the way I do with some of my friends now. We’ve stayed in loose and distant contact, though. He once sent me a set of plans when I was working for another good “R” guy, Rich Burns. I couldn’t download them and didn’t have the heart to tell him that I couldn’t. Man, what I wouldn’t give for a thick roll of RHO plans. I visited him once in the VM days. The kid that worked with me at VM visited him, too. Other than that, just the brief encounters of seeing him on TV or coming across old photos from the Portland days.
But nonetheless, he forever holds a place of fondness and respect in my heart. He was patient and kind to a kid from North Dakota who didn’t have the good sense to act like an adult in his presence. I still have trouble with the adult-part of life, by the way.
So here is to the mentors, the influencers, the ones that give us a glimpse of the “possible” in the face of so much “probable.” Between him, Rik Ekstrom -the deceased former chair of NDSU Architecture, Rich Burns, and of course, my super hero -my dad, I have more than once been able to cast off the bowlines of expectation and forge new directions. All of these guys -three “R”s and one “D,” instilled and reinforced this sense of integral striving over settling. And in this not-so-private display of my heart on my sleeve, I would be remiss not to say that this resonates deeply with my mostly nomadic soul. All of these guys have been blessings and examples of NOT following the herd. Unless, of course, it is the NDSU Bison. (GO HERD!) Some dreams leave you wanting more.
I am indebted.
How Long Does It Really Take to Build an ADU in Raleigh?
Or: Why "It Depends" Is the Most Honest Answer You'll Get
03/09/26
This article represents one architect's observations about ADU timelines in Raleigh based on professional experience. It is not a guarantee, warranty, or promise about your specific project timeline. Individual circumstances vary dramatically, and you should not rely on these estimates for financial, contractual, or planning decisions without consulting directly with professionals specific to your project. We are architects, not attorneys, accountants, or financial advisors.
Dakota’s professional experience has been largely centered around commercial, hospitality, and retail architecture. With new legislation in North Carolina, we are seeing more and more residential work opportunities at the door. A lot of those inquiries are concerning ADUs -Accessory Dwelling Units.
If you've landed here, you're probably wondering how long it takes to go from "I want an ADU" to "I have keys to my ADU." The short answer is anywhere from roughly six months to well over a year—sometimes considerably more. The long answer, which you're about to get, involves surveying, design decisions, municipal review processes, and the reality that construction schedules are more suggestion than science.
Let's break down what actually happens, phase by phase, with real numbers instead of marketing optimism.
Phase One: Topographical Survey (2–4 Weeks)
Before anyone draws a line or pours a footer, you need to know what you're working with. That means a topographical survey—an as-built record of your property's existing conditions, including elevations, trees, utility locations, easements, and any other features that will inform (or constrain) your design. What we call a One Foot Topo (1’-0” Topographical Survey) is the easiest to use.
Once you order the survey, expect around 2–4 weeks for completion, depending on the surveyor's schedule and workload. This timeline assumes normal conditions. If your property has complications—dense vegetation, difficult access, unclear property lines, or disputes requiring additional research—add time accordingly.
This phase is not optional. Skipping it or relying on outdated information is a shortcut to expensive mistakes later. The survey is the foundation (literally and figuratively) for everything that follows.
Realistic Expectation: 2–4 weeks
Phase Two: Design (A Few Weeks to 6+ Months)
This is where timelines diverge dramatically, and where your choices have the most impact on the schedule.
The Fast Track Option: Pre-Approved Plans with Minimal Modifications
The City of Raleigh offers a Fast Track ADU program featuring pre-approved plans. We have an elevated version of an ADU on a permanent foundation that is suitable for mobility-challenged individuals. (Elevated to ensure that the design will work on a variety of sloping lots.) These plans have already been reviewed and vetted by the city, which means they sail through permitting much faster than custom designs. If you select one of these plans and make minimal or no modifications, the design phase can be as short as a few days to a few weeks—primarily coordination work, minor tweaks for site-specific conditions, and ensuring ADA compliance if applicable.
This is the express lane. It's efficient. It works. And for many people, it's exactly the right choice.
But it's also a menu, not a blank canvas. You're selecting from existing designs, which means accepting someone else's spatial logic, aesthetic decisions, and material palette. If that's fine with you—and it often is—this route saves considerable time and money.
Fast Track Timeline: A few days to a few weeks depending upon Permitting Portal, changes, etc.
The Custom Design Option: 3–6 Months (Or More) Estimated
If you want something tailored specifically to your site, your needs, your budget, and your vision, you're entering the realm of custom design. This is iterative work. It involves schematic design, design development, revisions based on your feedback, coordination with engineers and consultants, code compliance reviews, and refinement of details that may not matter to anyone but you—until they do.
Custom design takes time because it should take time. Good architecture doesn't emerge fully formed. It's shaped through conversation, iteration, testing ideas against constraints (zoning, budget, site conditions, physics), and occasionally starting over when the first direction proves unworkable or undesirable.
Client feedback loops are part of this. So are revisions. If you're the kind of client who knows exactly what they want and communicates it clearly upfront, the process may move faster. If you're still discovering your preferences as the design evolves—which is common and part of the process—expect the longer end of the range. In our experience, the best clients engage the architect on myriad details and systems throughout the process. This conversation is invaluable for both clients.
This process continues into permitting and construction. Missed conversations, intentions, and design or detail changes can take place as situations -both in the field and in the office -take place.
For a custom ADU, plan on 3–6 months for design, depending on project complexity, your decision-making pace, availability for conversations on your end and on the architect’s end, and the number of revisions required. If the project involves unusual site challenges, significant zoning considerations, or ambitious performance goals, add more time.
Custom Design Timeline: 3–6 months, sometimes longer
Phase Three: Permitting (4–8 Weeks for Fast Track -Worst Case, 2–4+ Months for Custom)
Once design is complete, the plans go to the City of Raleigh for review. This is where the Fast Track program shows its value.
Fast Track ADUs
Pre-approved plans are streamlined through the city's review process. Because the design has already been vetted, the review focuses primarily on site-specific issues and ensuring your particular application meets all requirements. The City’s goal with Fast Track is aFew Days and is a good expectation, but be safe and estimate 4–8 weeks for permitting, assuming your submittal is complete and accurate. Having the surveyor place the architect’s design on a sealed survey goes a long way. The architect can add this to his drawing set.
Custom ADUs
Custom designs go through standard review, which means more scrutiny, more potential comments, and more opportunities for revisions. Standard review typically takes 2–4 months, though this can stretch longer if the city requests significant revisions, if there are zoning complications, or if your submittal is incomplete.
A few realities about permitting timelines:
First, the city is reviewing dozens (sometimes hundreds) of projects simultaneously. Your ADU is one of many. Patience is mandatory.
Second, incomplete submittals slow everything down. If your plans are missing information, the city will issue comments requesting it. You respond. They review again. This back-and-forth adds weeks or months. If the permit application is incomplete, they will kick it back. Expect this. Perfection exists only on paper and in heaven.
Third, permitting timelines are subject to municipal workload, staffing levels, and policy changes. During periods of high construction activity, reviews take longer. When the city updates codes or processes, there's often a learning curve. Plan accordingly.
Fast Track Permitting: 4–8 weeks Worst Case
Custom Permitting: 2–4+ months
Phase Four: Construction (4–8 Months)
Once permits are in hand, construction begins. For an ADU in the 500–800 square foot range, expect 4–8 months of construction time, depending on several variables:
Builder Schedule and Workload
Good builders are busy -especially in Raleigh. If your builder is already managing multiple projects, your ADU may not start immediately after permitting. Even once construction begins, builders often juggle multiple jobs, rain delays, adverse site conditions, etc. -which means your project may not have crews on site every single day.
Site Conditions
Is your site easily accessible? Flat? Free of complications like poor soils, high water tables, or mature trees requiring careful navigation? Or is it sloped, tight, difficult to access with equipment, and requiring additional foundation work or retaining walls?
How about your land? If not on City water and sewer, does it Perc if you need a septic system?
Easy sites move faster. Complicated sites add to the story.
Weather
North Carolina weather is generally construction-friendly, but extended rain delays are real. Our two to four weeks of real winter -think snow and cold temps, seems to be happening every year. Foundation work, framing, and roofing all depend on dry conditions. Expect occasional weather-related delays. If you order concrete on Tuesday, expect rain on Tuesday. Same with the doors on Thursday.
Material Availability
Post-pandemic supply chain issues have improved, but certain materials still experience delays—windows, specialty products, custom items, and sometimes even basic lumber or hardware. Your builder has some control over this (ordering early, selecting readily available products), but not total control.
Builder Experience and Competence
This is the variable you actually control. A competent, organized builder with ADU experience will manage the schedule effectively. Ask for references. Ask about their typical ADU timelines. Ask how they handle delays and surprises (because there will be surprises). Your architect, depending upon your initial contract, can supply you with an Owner-Contractor agreement.
Construction Timeline: 4–8 months
Total Project Timeline: The Big Picture
Adding it all up, here's what you're realistically looking at from initial survey to occupancy:
Fast Track ADU (Minimal Custom Design)
Survey: 2–4 weeks
Design: A few weeks
Permitting: 4–8 weeks Worst Case
Construction: 4–8 months
Total: Approximately 6–10 months
Custom ADU
Survey: 2–4 weeks
Design: 3–6 months
Permitting: 2–4 months
Construction: 4–8 months
Total: Approximately 11–18+ months
These are overlapping phases in some cases (survey happens during early design conversations, for example), but the sequential dependencies mean you can't compress the timeline arbitrarily. Permitting doesn't start until design is done. Construction doesn't start until permits are issued.
Variables, Realities, and Honest Expectations
A few additional points worth considering:
Decision-Making Affects Timelines
The faster you make decisions, the faster the project moves. If you need weeks to choose between two finishes, or if you routinely revisit settled decisions, the timeline extends. This isn't a criticism—some people need more time to feel confident in their choices. Just recognize that it affects the schedule.
Changes During Construction Cost Time (and Money)
Changing your mind during construction is expensive and slow. Every change requires coordination, possibly new permits, reordering materials, and rescheduling work. Some changes are unavoidable (discovering unforeseen conditions, for example). Others are elective. The latter should be minimized if schedule matters to you. Smaller changes like sizes of materials, may move faster, but will impact costs. Know this, change is inevitable. Even in construction. Even in to the permitted plans of projects of any size.
"As Soon As Possible" Often Isn't
If your goal is the fastest possible ADU, the Fast Track program exists specifically for this. But even Fast Track projects take months, not weeks. Anyone promising dramatically faster timelines is either looking at a pre-built option, or they may be cutting corners, or describing a project that doesn't include permitting and proper construction methods.
Quality Takes Time
You can build fast, cheap, or well. Pick two. This maxim is annoyingly persistent because it's true. The fastest ADU won't be the best ADU unless you're exceptionally lucky. If quality matters—and it should, given that this is a permanent structure on your property—accept that good work takes time.
In the motorcycling world of long distance travel, we once heard an acquaintance opine on equipment, “Buy Nice, or Pay Twice.” This is sage life advice and another maxim that should be remembered. Residential construction is not as robust as industrial or even small commercial, per se, but the material choices and detailing will affect how well your project performs and lasts. A forgiving design is usually better than a “perfect” one.
Accept that the conversation with both architect, consultants, and contractor is ongoing. A healthy respect for one another is critical to the success of your project. The architect and contractor should come together as soon as possible. In residential, unlike public commercial projects, this is often possible.
Consultants often Make or Break a Project
Speaking of consultants, this is not the area to skimp. Either hire them yourself, or approve the ones the architect is suggesting and bringing to the table. Structural consultant is one we see often in Raleigh -even for small projects. The consultant is there to consult. He or she will bring a host of best practices, professionalism and authority, as well as ideas to the table. While architects benefit from consultant involvement, this recommendation is based on risk management and project quality, not financial interest.
Depending upon what you would like, other consultants can be brought in for landscaping (Landscape Architects who belong to ASLA), soil tests, HVAC (heating-ventilation-air conditioning), electrical, audio, ad nauseam.
A note on hiring your own consultants: plug your architect in early and often. The clearer the communication, the less “misses” later on. Again, expect change -the right change for the best project. Ongoing conversations often equate into ongoing change and detail changes.
Final Thoughts: Why This Matters
Understanding realistic timelines helps you plan properly. If you need the ADU operational by a specific date—say, for a family member's arrival or to generate rental income by a certain month—work backward from that deadline and add buffer time for delays. (There will be delays. There are always delays.)
If you're considering an ADU as an investment, factor the timeline into your financial projections. A year without rental income is a year without return. This doesn't mean ADUs aren't worthwhile—they often are—but honest timelines produce honest financial models.
And if you're doing this primarily to add living space or accommodate aging parents or returning adult children, the timeline affects when that solution actually becomes available. Plan accordingly.
The City of Raleigh's Fast Track program is a genuine effort to streamline ADU development and make these projects more feasible. It's worth considering, especially if your priority is speed and efficiency over total customization. The City should be applauded for creating a venue for a quicker response and one of many solutions towards the missing middle issue -that shortage of housing options between single-family homes and large apartment buildings.
But whether you go Fast Track or custom, understand that building well takes time. Surveying takes time. Design takes time. Permitting takes time. Construction takes time. Anyone telling you otherwise is selling something that won't hold up to scrutiny—or weather, or inspections, or the passage of time itself.
Build it right. Budget appropriately. Expect delays. And recognize that the timeline for a good ADU is measured in months and seasons, not weeks.
Stay tuned.
-D
Are You Sure It’s An Architect You Want?
1/18/26This may be surprising, especially if you’ve never built a project before. Don’t be shocked that an architect would ask it. In my experience, many people don’t actually want an architect. They want a draftsperson. And occasionally—whether they realize it or not—they want to be the architect themselves, with a professional quietly standing by to make it “official.”
“If what you want is drafting, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just not architecture.”
These are often the clients who arrive with comments like, “I just need you to draw this up,” or the classic, “It won’t take much time—I already have everything laid out.” When I hear this, it’s usually a signal—not a deal breaker, but a signal—that expectations may need some gentle recalibration before anyone wastes time, money, or patience.
Neither of those requests is inherently wrong. They’re just not architectural services.
Architects are not drafting technicians. Yes, architects with inflated egos could learn a great deal from good drafting techs. Absolutely. (Some of us have. Some of us are still working on it.) But the two professions are fundamentally different in scope, education, responsibility, and—this part matters—in liability.
If what you truly need is drafting, you may be better served elsewhere. If you want an architect, then it’s important to understand what that relationship actually entails.
Another common scenario is the residential client who wants a spec-home price for a custom design—and sometimes, a spec-home design as well. This is where expectations often begin to drift… quietly at first, then all at once, usually during the budget conversation.
It costs money to build beyond code. Code, quite frankly, is the crappiest building you can legally build. Put another way: Code is the minimum standard for legality, not the benchmark for quality. Period. (That’s not an insult—it’s a definition.)
It costs money to have rain-screen cladding.
It costs money to build with 2×6 (or better) exterior walls.
It costs money to have a green roof—or even a properly detailed cold roof that breathes correctly and doesn’t grow its own ecosystem.
“Code is the minimum standard for legality, not the benchmark for quality.”
And yet, many clients will point to a new home community and say, “But I can get this house for X dollars per square foot.” This is usually said in response to an estimate for a one-off, custom-designed home—often on a better site, with fewer compromises, and almost no economies of scale.
Here’s the reality: production builders operate at an entirely different scale. A custom home doesn’t buy fifty toilets in a single order—unless it’s a very big custom home, and even then, probably not.
Years ago, I worked on a project on Lake Washington. At the time, it was a $50 million home. It had a car rotisserie in the garage, a trailer on site to act as "job shack," zinc cladding in select areas, and enough concrete to justify a small batch plant. Even that house didn’t order fifty toilets. The toilet, of course, is just shorthand for bulk purchasing power—something production builders rely on heavily, and custom homes usually don’t have.
Most custom homes already have the materials, systems, and detailing the client wants designed in from the beginning. There isn’t always a showroom moment where someone says, “For just $100 more, you can upgrade to this faucet.” Some architects and designers work that way. Many do not. (If you’ve ever followed the upgrade path long enough, you know it rarely stops at faucets. It stops where your wallet or financing abilities stop.)
Production builders typically make X on the base house and X+++ on upgrades. Architects, by contrast, are usually trying to work within your stated budget and avoid upselling through markups. The fee is not typically tied to how expensive your fixtures are.
That being said, if you ask for the heated toilet seat from Japan, it will cost more than the standard great white china (sea) fixture most homes use. Physics, shipping, electricity, and common sense all insist on this.
So the question remains: are you sure it’s an architect you want?
For many people, a production home or an existing commercial building is the most cost-effective path—and there’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, it’s often the smartest choice. The answer depends on your goals, your budget, your tolerance for customization, and what your city or county requires in terms of stamped or sealed drawings. It also depends on the particular architect and consultants involved. You can always hire architects and consultants to improve your purchase. I've seen this in retail architecture work. Existing building. Transform it into the story or experience of our brand. Make it "us!"
A related question—and an important one—is: what kind of architect do you want to hire?
At a high level, the profession divides quickly into residential and commercial architects. Many architects do both, but not all. Residential architects focus on homes. Commercial architects focus on commercial projects. From there, specialization continues—sometimes down to the equivalent of a surgeon who only operates on hands, or even thumbs. (If it’s your thumb, you want the thumb specialist.)
I once worked on a prison project where the “expert” consultant arrived from over 100 miles away, carrying a briefcase—the two classic hallmarks of an expert. He had worked on multiple prison projects. The point is that experts usually cost more up front. The good ones often save you money in the long run, even if it doesn’t feel that way when the invoice arrives.
Understanding this segmentation matters. A former classmate of mine—the son of a very successful commercial architect—returned from Christmas break one year and casually mentioned that his father had hired an architect to design their new home in Minneapolis.
Yes. An architect hired an architect.
Why? Because he understood that the profession is segmented. He knew commercial architecture deeply. Residential architecture—with its different assemblies, detailing, and conventions, right down to door thickness—was not his specialty. Knowing what you don’t do is an underrated professional skill. I would argue that it is vital for your architect without regard to the project typology.
Beyond category and specialization, there’s another layer: how much art do you want?
"Art" is a euphemism for the uniqueness of your project. Some architects are highly competent but don’t speak with a distinct voice. Their work reflects prevailing trends, current technology, or the imagery and the budget the client brings to the table. This approach is common—and often economically necessary. Architects need to eat, and most landlords remain unimpressed by "vision."
Others bring a more singular voice. Sometimes that shows up in novel uses of materials (early Frank Gehry is a good example). Sometimes it’s in performance-driven design, sustainability, or construction methodology. These buildings often perform exceptionally well—but performance, too, costs money. There are no known loopholes.
Then there are architects whose uniqueness lies in pushing the profession forward. They elevate the practice for everyone. There are not many of them. When you do encounter one, they are usually in high demand—and their calendars tend to look a bit like airline boarding groups.
So it’s worth asking yourself:
Do you want a quiet professional?
A strong but unsung designer?
A recognized voice?
Or someone actively furthering the discipline and therefore the project itself?
None of these answers are wrong—but they are not interchangeable.
Which brings us back to the revised question:
Do you really want an architect—and if so, what kind of architect do you want?
Answering that honestly will save you time, money, and frustration on both sides of the table.
Stay tuned.
-D