There are some buildings that do far more than stand on a piece of land. They speak. Quietly. Powerfully. Permanently. And every time I visit the United States Capitol, I am reminded that great architecture is never simply about walls, domes, columns, or materials. It is about people. It is about belief. It is about a vision bold enough to outlive the designer who first placed pencil to paper.
As we celebrate the birth of William Thornton on May 20, 1759, I find myself thinking less about the size of his masterpiece and more about the courage behind it.
Thornton was not just an architect. He was a physician, inventor, painter, and thinker. Born in Tortola in the British Virgin Islands, he eventually made his way to America and entered a design competition that would forever shape the nation’s identity. His vision for the Capitol was selected by President George Washington himself, and what followed was the creation of one of the most recognized buildings in the world.
That alone is remarkable.
But what truly fascinates me is this: William Thornton was designing more than a government building. He was designing a symbol before the nation fully understood what it would become.
Think about that for a moment.
He was asked to create a structure that represented democracy, ambition, permanence, and unity in a country that was still young, still fragile, and still finding itself. Yet somehow, Thornton imagined soaring spaces, grand staircases, commanding facades, and a dome that would eventually become synonymous with the American spirit itself.
That takes more than talent. That takes boldness.
As many of you know, I am a history and political geek (yes, I proudly admit both). So because of that, I have had the privilege of visiting the Capitol many times throughout my life, and every visit affects me differently. Sometimes I stand outside and simply admire the scale of it all. The symmetry. The proportions. The undeniable authority the building carries as it rises above Washington, D.C. Other times, I focus on the quieter moments—the light crossing the stone, the worn surfaces touched by generations, the whispers of history that seem to linger in every corridor.
And what I have realized over the years is that the Capitol makes two statements at the same time.
First, it makes a bold public statement.
It announces strength. Stability. National identity. It tells the world that ideas matter and that democracy deserves a structure worthy of its aspirations. Thornton’s design was unapologetically grand because the ideals behind it were grand.
But the Capitol also makes a deeply personal statement.
Every person who enters that building brings a different story. Different struggles. Different victories. Different backgrounds. Different dreams. A veteran may walk those halls and reflect on sacrifice. A child on a school trip may suddenly believe their future has no limits. A designer like me may stand there marveling at the courage it took to imagine such a structure before modern tools, technology, and conveniences ever existed.
The same building speaks differently to each person.
And honestly, I believe that may be the highest achievement great design can reach.
As we approach the end of our 2026 American Residential Design Awards (ARDA) registration window, I cannot help but see the same spirit of William Thornton reflected in so many of the entries that are submitted each year.
Not because every project is monumental in size. Not because every design contains marble columns or dramatic rotundas. But because every great residential design makes a statement.
Sometimes that statement is bold and immediate.
Sometimes it is deeply personal and quietly transformative.
A large custom home overlooking the ocean may stop you in your tracks with sweeping rooflines and walls of glass. But an ADU thoughtfully designed for aging parents may carry just as much emotional impact. One project may celebrate luxury. Another may celebrate dignity, accessibility, family legacy, or sustainability.
And all of them matter. That is what makes residential design so incredibly powerful.
The homes we design become the backdrop for human life itself.
Birthdays.
Holiday mornings.
Funeral gatherings.
First steps.
Late-night conversations.
Homework at the kitchen table.
Quiet cups of coffee before sunrise.
We are not simply designing structures. We are designing environments where life unfolds.
Thornton understood this idea even on the scale of a nation. His Capitol was meant to house government, yes—but it was also meant to inspire emotion, reflection, and belief. It was intended to make citizens feel connected to something larger than themselves.
Residential designers do that every single day.
It may not be the marble and granite we associate with Washington, D.C. Instead, it may be reclaimed wood salvaged from a family barn that has stood for generations. It may not be a stately staircase rising beneath a painted dome. Instead, it may be a carefully crafted zero-step entry that allows someone to remain in their home safely and independently for decades to come.
And there is incredible beauty in that evolution.
The grand steps surrounding Thornton’s masterpiece represented dignity and arrival in his era. Today, many of our most meaningful designs remove barriers entirely. The definition of great architecture continues to grow because society itself continues to grow.
That is exciting to me.
Because true design excellence has never been about copying the past. It has always been about understanding people.
Some of the most memorable homes I have ever seen were not the largest or the most expensive. They were the homes where every decision clearly reflected the people who lived there. A perfectly framed mountain view that captured a homeowner’s love of nature. A reading nook designed for a child who struggled in school but found peace in books. A multi-generational layout that quietly honored cultural traditions and family closeness.
Those are bold statements, too.
Not loud statements.
Meaningful statements.
And perhaps that is why I remain so passionate about residential design after all these years.
Many years ago, I entered this profession because I believed I had been given the ability to design safe, practical, and functional homes that people could appreciate for years to come. At the time, I simply wanted to create spaces that worked well and served families honestly.
Fast forward nearly forty years, and I now have the privilege of standing on a stage each year celebrating the realized visions of designers from across the country who share that same mindset. Designers who understand that originality is not about ego. It is about purpose. Designers who recognize that homes can be beautiful without losing functionality. Designers who know that thoughtful design can profoundly change how people live.
In many ways, the American Residential Design Awards celebrate the same spirit that drove William Thornton centuries ago.
The courage to imagine.
The willingness to create something original.
The belief that architecture can shape emotion and experience.
The understanding that buildings speak.
Because they do.
Some whisper comfort.
Some announce innovation.
Some preserve heritage.
Some embrace the future.
And some, like Thornton’s Capitol, somehow manage to do all of it at once.
As designers, we often spend countless hours refining plans, adjusting elevations, balancing materials, solving code challenges, and coordinating details that few people will ever fully notice. But what our clients remember is how a space made them feel. Long after construction ends, that emotional connection remains.
That is the true power of design.
And perhaps that is why William Thornton’s work still resonates today. Not simply because the Capitol is iconic, but because it continues to evoke emotion in millions of people from vastly different walks of life.
That is not accidental, rather it is design at its highest level.
I believe every designer should pause for a moment and ask themselves a question inspired by Thornton’s extraordinary legacy:
Am I designing to merely fill space—or am I bold enough to create homes that make a lasting statement to every person who experiences them?
Don't just fill space. Let your best work be celebrated among the nation's finest. The entry window for the 2026 American Residential Design Awards is closing fast.
Register your projects for ARDA 2026 today.