When I first came to Aotearoa, I didn’t expect the culture shock to hit me as hard as it did. I came from southern India and, later, worked in Malaysia: places where buildings were made from concrete, brick and tile — solid, heavy materials. That was what I knew. Construction meant plaster, steel, cement.

But here, everything was timber — a beautiful, versatile material and one that I had never worked with. So, I had to relearn. I enrolled in night classes at Polytech. I didn’t want to be hamstrung by a lack of experience. I needed to understand the way things worked — the methods, the systems. All of it was new. Even the language — the jargon, the way people communicated — took time. But I was up for the challenge. Every single day was learning. Architects Paul Goldsmith and Terry Boon were incredibly supportive. And I didn’t want to let them down.

Before starting at Boon, I was fascinated by the firm’s offices. I was working elsewhere in 1988 and, on weekends, I would walk past and peek through the window and say to myself that this is somewhere I’d like to work. The company, to me, was looking to the future, creating quite outthere and responsive community architecture.

I first met Paul over a glass of wine at a conference. It was one of those conversations that lingered long into the night. He had presence — you noticed when he entered a room — and he had an incredible ability to connect with people around the table. That struck me immediately.

When I came for the interview, Paul and Terry were both there. The essence of the two of them together was something else. Terry had a magnanimous energy and the way they connected and included people was familiar to me, coming from a communal culture.

Terry used to talk about the three As: availability, affability and ability, in that order. That stuck with me. It’s not rocket science — it’s about being there, being open and helping others create solutions. It’s about building trust. If you don’t have trust, you don’t have a relationship. And if there’s no relationship, there’s nothing you can do.

I learned that early, not just through architecture but through my interactions in te ao Māori, the Māori world. Whakawhanaungatanga (building and maintaining relationships) has always been fundamental to Boon.

In 1994, I officially joined the practice. One of the first projects I began work on was the Polytech student lounge. Then, there was the Waitara Library and a long run of school work. We did Ford showrooms around the country. Paul and I worked on most of those.

Puke Ariki came later. That was Paul’s vision more than anything. I worked on the interiors of the museum and the library, and also designed the restaurant, which overlooks the foreshore.

The Rotorua Events Centre was another landmark. We told stories with that project and brought in a traditional carver to work with fibreglass, which wasn’t common at the time.

There has always been something in me that leans towards storytelling. Context matters and, behind context, there’s always a story. Storytelling is inherently part of the way I think. The more you use art in the context of the site and the people involved, the more it informs a specific design solution.

As I’ve been working in te ao Māori space, a huge part of our work has been following the idea of having a mana whenua-led cultural narrative specific to a project and letting that inform the design thinking.

Ngāmotu House is one example: a multi-storey structure in central New Plymouth, once known as the Atkinson Building after one of the city’s colonial families. Another project is Murihiku Marae at Waihōpai Invercargill. Someone had obviously heard, through word of mouth, about the projects we’d been doing and the ongoing relationship I now share with the Waihōpai Rūnaka is incredibly special to me.

The privilege of being able to work in these spaces extends beyond architecture. It’s about the relationships and the people and their stories. I didn’t grow up here so I had to learn about the vernacular materials and I continue to learn about the land, its history and the stories that have remained hidden.

Learning te reo Māori has been a deeply personal part of the journey. My partner Eloise and I started nearly 10 years ago. We go together each week to Te Wānanga o Aotearoa, Ngāmotu Wharekura. We try to speak te reo at home with our children as much as we can. It’s far from perfect but it’s about honouring the journey.

At Boon, our story continued to evolve, with Glenn Brebner joining us in 2000, the year after I became a partner. Glenn has great energy, and is a clear thinker and a brilliant designer — the spectacular Green School New Zealand campus is one of his projects. We’re like chalk and cheese in some ways. He’s a rational thinker and very creative, and he makes connections easily. We complement each other with our different approaches to solving design.

The school of architecture I went to in India encouraged us to think at a high level, without being hindered. Then you start layering in the risks and realities as you fine-tune the design.

Terry and Paul had quite different approaches. Terry was a deep thinker and very considered. He balanced client aspirations with the budget but never shied away from pushing boundaries. Paul could make a project come alive just sitting around the table. He’d think of issues before they became issues and stitch thoughts together from a completely different perspective. He was always looking out for the client.

One of the biggest things I learned from both of them was how to create maximum bang for the money, especially in civic and community projects where the aspirations are big but the budgets are not. So, you ask, who benefits most from this design element? Where is it best placed?

You don’t lose the design effect but you contain it within the available budget. Now I’m programmed to think like that, regardless of the project. We once had a $50-million superyacht project in Fitzroy. I told the Italian owner I was conscious of adhering to the budget and he said, “Murali, don’t worry about the budget. We want the best. We’ve got the budget.” I’ve never heard that before or since.

I work best when there are agreed parameters and, regardless of the budget level, there is always a place for good design.

Thanks to Terry and Paul, we were doing national work from New Plymouth and that continues. We still do Ford showrooms across the country for The Colonial Motor Company; Paul started that relationship. That’s part of the legacy — forging relationships and upholding them. We’ve worked with communities across Aotearoa for 50 years. Those relationships eventually provide the right connections. Terry and Paul taught us the ways in which to work nationally without a big-city attitude.

We encourage our team to think outside the box, and bring a bit of humour and a bit of joy but never at anyone else’s expense. At the heart of every project is someone else’s vision, someone else’s money. We’re there to support them, offer solutions and carry that responsibility through to the end.

Technology has changed the way we deliver those solutions. When I started, it was part drawing board, part slow CAD programme, but I’ve always loved new technology. I’ve always wanted to be at the forefront.

These days, our processes are much faster. We use virtual reality to walk clients through their spaces, giving them a real sense of the design in just 15 or 20 minutes. It helps. Clients often say, “I’m not very good at reading drawings” and that’s understandable. So, instead of handing them a plan, we give them an experience – one they can step into.

When I draw a line, I already see it in 3D. I don’t know how I learned that. It’s just the way I think. Some of our younger staff are doing exciting things with 3D printers. What excites me even more is the future with AI. I attended a webinar recently and discovered it’s already being used extensively in the United Kingdom and the United States. Architects input a brief and AI generates fully visualised designs. Eventually, it won’t need much input at all.

You give ChatGPT a brief – two-bedroom house, coastal section, garage for three classic cars – and it knows everything. It knows the GPS location, the trees on site, the district plan. It gives you three solutions, all modelled. It even suggests the art for the living room.

I don’t find that threatening — I find it exciting. The architect becomes the curator. AI won’t take your job but the architects who work with AI will replace the ones who don’t. It’s like refusing to use a calculator even though technology exists to help you find answers more quickly.

Even with all that change, relationships still matter most. Technology enhances delivery but it doesn’t replace people. Clients still want someone they can trust. They still say: “We want to work with someone from Boon.” They’re looking for empathy, passion and a human eye, and we’re still the ones holding the vision.

We have a team of people who understand that. Our most recent director, Kyle Arnold, and associates Shaun Murphy and Emily Batchelor, are central to that approach. Kyle is extremely loyal, technically sharp and a great design thinker. He manages the studio. Shaun and Emily are grounded, creative and brilliant with people. They’ve grown up with Boon. It’s part of their home-town narrative.

We are always thinking of succession because Boon is part of Taranaki’s landscape, and beyond. Succession isn’t just about skill, it’s about sharing the wins and the worries. That’s why we bring our junior staff into the full project experience. They meet clients and they sit at the table. It’s not the most efficient way to work but it’s the most meaningful. They see how a project comes alive and the way to keep it moving when challenges arise.

Even though we’re part-owners of Boon, it feels more like guardianship; we’re holding this for the next group and the one after that. Each generation has to own its space; you can’t just repeat what the previous one did. Culture shifts and values evolve but what we inherited is meaningful and we’re building on it.

Paul was the futurist, always thinking 20 years ahead. Terry was the architect and relationship builder. Together, they laid the foundation for what Boon is today.

The philosophy that continues to guide us is captured in a whakataukī that formed part of the cultural narrative for Murihiku Marae: “Titiro whakamuri kia anga whakamua — Look to the past as you move to the future.”

You can see the past but not the future. The future is the unknown, uncharted path behind you. And that’s where we are now. Eyes open. Looking back. So, we can move forward.

For 51 years, Boon has helped shape Taranaki’s built identity — blending innovative thinking with deep community roots. Embracing technology, innovation and cultural partnership, the firm delivers purposeful design, steeped in stories. Boon is also part of Team Architects, a nationwide collective of skilled, passionate professionals, collaborating on projects across Aotearoa. Looking ahead, Boon remains driven by purpose, partnership and a future-focused design ethos.