Interview with Scott Specht of Specht Novak

Scott Specht is the founder and principal architect of Specht Novak, an architecture firm with offices in Austin, Texas, and New York City. He holds a Master of Architecture from Yale University and has extensive experience in international architectural practice. Specht Novak is recognized for its innovative and sustainable designs across residential, commercial, and educational projects.

Key projects led by Specht Novak include the Carpenter, an adaptive reuse of a former union hall with a focus on environmental sustainability, and the Preston Hollow Residence in Dallas, a recipient of the 2020 Record Houses award. The Sangre de Cristo House also stands out, having won the Harnar Award for Contemporary Architecture.

The firm’s work has earned multiple awards from organizations such as the American Institute of Architects and the Texas Society of Architects. Their projects have been featured in over 250 publications globally, including the Wall Street Journal, New York Times, and Architectural Digest. Scott Specht actively contributes to architectural discourse through conferences and media appearances, including TEDx Talks, where he shares insights on the future of architecture.

What inspires you?

Looking back, my sources of inspiration have really shifted over time. When I first started out, I was all about creating a unique visual style—drawing ideas from oddball, Wright-inspired architects like Bruce Goff and regional specialists like Carlo Scarpa—and I loved experimenting with everyday materials. I’d design office spaces with interiors made from things like Rubbermaid ice cube trays, Coke crates, and truck air filters—you name it. I even ended up co-authoring a book on the quirky evolution of coffee lids (still available on Amazon, by the way).
Today, though, I’m less focused on establishing a brand-new aesthetic and more interested in rethinking how architecture can better serve our rapidly changing social and cultural needs. Many common typologies, especially in the residential realm, still reflect outdated programmatic ideas, so I find it exciting to explore alternatives—eliminating or combining standard room types and even revisiting ancient concepts like the urban courtyard house (which, in my view, works far better than the typical farmhouse or ranch models). The possibilities feel endless.

What inspired you to become an architect?

Funny enough, I never really dreamed of being an architect as a kid—I actually wanted to be a filmmaker. In high school, I even ran a little business called Spectrum Films, making promotional videos for local businesses and creating some sci-fi shorts on 16mm film. I once seriously considered going to USC film school, but I soon discovered that what really excited me about film was creating elaborate sets and special effects. Architecture seemed like a way to channel that creative energy into a field where you can actually build something people can experience. Even now, I sometimes work on projects for theme park developers, which lets me stay connected to that early love of immersive environments.

How would you describe your design philosophy?

Our design philosophy really boils down to what I like to call ultra contextualism. For our firm, it’s about more than just making a building fit into its surroundings—it’s about engaging deeply with every aspect of a site and with the people who will eventually use the space.
We begin by studying the immediate physical context—not to replicate the details of nearby buildings or natural features, but to understand the unique qualities of the surroundings and how they might interact with something new. This careful analysis can sometimes lead to designs that stand out dramatically from what already exists, while still enhancing the overall experience of the place.

But the physical aspect is only part of the story. We also consider the social context—capturing the spirit, history, and character of the neighborhood or region. Whether it’s a project in a former industrial district or one that nods to local traditions, we strive to create architecture that tells a story about its location. Our Carpenter’s Hall is a great example. That project, situated in an unusual, formerly industrial pocket near downtown Austin, draws on common industrial building techniques—like a concrete frame with clay tile infill—yet reconfigures them in a modern way that suits its role as a hotel. It nods to the past while adapting to present-day needs.

Perhaps most important is the personal context. We believe every project should speak to the people who use it. That means really getting into the psychological side of what a client is seeking—whether it’s a connection to their family heritage or a way of presenting themselves to visitors. There are many aspects of a client’s life that can be interpreted architecturally—from the way light filters through a room, to the natural flow of spaces in a home, even down to choosing the exact shade of glass that sets the right mood. It’s all about understanding the needs, desires, and even the habits of the occupants.

All these layers are balanced with practical principles like low maintenance, careful budgeting, comfort, timelessness, and high-quality craft. The result is that each project becomes a unique response to its context and its people, rather than a one-style-fits-all “signature” design.

What is your favorite project?

I’d have to say my own house is my favorite. Designing a space for myself gave me the freedom to try things that wouldn’t necessarily work in a typical residential commission. Since my house is on a tiny urban “alley flat” lot, I skipped the usual exterior windows and instead created a series of internal courtyards that fill the home with light while keeping it private. I even threw in a built-in aviary and decided not to include a dining room. It might not be what everyone would choose—and it certainly limits resale potential—but for me, it perfectly captures the joy of creative freedom.

What is your favorite architectural detail?

My top detail has to be a cast concrete system we developed for our Preston Hollow Residence in Dallas. The house is a mix of a solid, brutalist-inspired base and a light, floating pavilion roof that hovers above it. We wanted to capture the bold spirit of 1960s and ’70s modernism while adding a refined level of detail and shadow interplay that scales down the intensity for a home setting. The solution was to create custom-milled modular concrete forms that give the walls a subtle, almost randomized corrugation. We used four form patterns in different combinations to avoid any monotonous repetition. A great example of this is at the main fireplace, where the texture ends just right to form a custom concrete hearth. I’ve included one of our technical drawings here along with some project photos that show how this detail ties together the overall design.

The attached drawings and photos show the modular concrete form system, highlighting how the patterned corrugation adds both texture and light modulation to the design.

Do you have a favorite material?

I don’t really have a go-to material. I believe in choosing whatever works best for each project, and I’m careful not to rely too heavily on one signature palette. That said, there are certain materials I tend to avoid. For example, natural wood like cedar can age beautifully in a beachfront or coastal setting with salt air, but in many other environments it’s prone to mildew and weathering—which means a lot more upkeep. I prefer materials that not only look great but also offer durability and low maintenance.

What is your process for starting a new project?

Once I’ve gathered all the program details and parameters, I like to begin the design process the old-fashioned way—with pen and paper, or sometimes a stylus on a tablet. There’s something about that tactile act of sketching that really helps shape my ideas, even if the early drawings are just rough scribbles. The muscle-memory seems to be part of the thinking process itself. When I feel like I’ve got a workable concept, I move on to digital modeling and rendering. Often, that process gives me fresh insights that send me back to the drawing board, creating a natural back-and-forth between hand drawing and digital precision.

How do you balance function and creativity in your designs?

I see function and creativity as two parts of the same whole. You can be just as creative designing a building that functions well as you can with one that doesn’t. It helps to keep a set of broad parameters in mind right from the start so that the two don’t conflict. One of the major ones is water management. When starting any new design, we try to keep the roof planes as simple as possible and carefully consider drainage—even during the earliest conceptual sketches. In my experience, working within these constraints almost always leads to a more creative and ultimately more fulfilling design.

How does the environment influence your work?

As I mentioned earlier, responding to context is a major guiding force in our office. When it comes to the natural environment, we make a point of preserving as much as possible and intervening only where necessary. This shows up early in the site planning phase, where the position and massing of a building can be significantly affected by the need to protect trees or other important landscape features.
Climate and solar orientation are also major drivers in our projects. Take our Preston Hollow residence, for example—it features massive, cantilevered roof forms. The length of those cantilevers wasn’t an arbitrary decision; it was driven by careful modeling of the solar path throughout the year. The overhangs are precisely sized to keep the harsh Texas sun out during the summer months.

While many architects consider these factors, our office also pushes environmental considerations to the extreme with experimental projects. Our zeroHouse, for instance, is designed to operate fully off-grid and features a unique foundation that touches the ground at only four small anchor points—tying together all our environmental touchpoints into one distinctive design.

How do you collaborate with clients to achieve their vision?

Every client is different. Some are very hands-on and want to be involved in every little detail, while others prefer to trust us to take the lead. I’m flexible in my approach and try to meet clients where they are. Whether a client comes in with a detailed vision or is looking for guidance, the key is to listen carefully and adjust the process to fit their comfort level. At the end of the day, it’s all about building trust and working together to create something amazing.

What inspired Weston Residence?

Weston Residence really grew out of the unique challenges and opportunities of its site. The property is a narrow strip of land wedged between the Saugatuck River and a busy road which sits on a cliff high above the buildable area. Since the house is mostly seen from above when you enter the property, we had to make the roof—the fourth façade—the main focal point. Strict zoning rules also meant we had to design within a very compact footprint. The result is a multi-level home with green roofs that cascade like natural terraces toward the water. From the street entry, the house and landscape merge seamlessly.

How did materiality shape the design and sustainability of Weston Residence?

The material palette was intentionally simple and designed for minimal maintenance. The exterior features cast-in-place concrete walls at the first level, raw cementitious board cladding on the upper level, and is finished with either glazing or a green roof. The design is largely a composition of blocks and planes that both complement the unique site and meet the clients’ programmatic needs.

The green roof naturally moderates the house’s internal temperature, and the interior finishes—mostly bamboo paneling—are sustainably grown and harvested. However, the biggest impacts on energy usage and sustainability come from two factors that often go overlooked. First, we convinced the client to build a smaller house than they originally envisioned by combining programmatic spaces; simply reducing the size of a project is one of the most effective ways to cut energy consumption and material usage. Second, we chose materials with an extremely long lifespan. The cast concrete and cementitious cladding, supported by a steel framework, have an indefinite lifespan and allow the structure to be used for generations without the constant labor and waste associated with renovation and repair.

What advice would you give to young architects?

It’s the same advice I’d give to anyone studying any field—a lesson I wish I’d learned sooner. Use your educational and early career years to meet as many people as possible and develop strong social skills—build connections with individuals in entirely different arenas. I was the type of student who spent most of my time in the studio, neglecting the value of networking. Later, I realized how many talented and ambitious designers there are (many of whom I went to school with) who simply didn’t have the network or social skills to attract clients and communicate their vision. I’ve been in this business for 30 years, and the toughest part isn’t design or detailing—it’s keeping a steady stream of work coming your way. Unfortunately, architecture is expensive, and it takes clients who believe in your vision to get anything built. If you’re passionate about creating the actual built environment rather than just presenting ideas in images, you have to master the art of convincing people to trust you with their resources in a smart and effective way.