In our previous feature, we explored the "Practice Before Practice" model—a collaboration between Toronto Metropolitan University (TMU), Mason Studio, and developer HOEM—that is redefining design education in Toronto. By placing students directly into the high-stakes environment of live development, the project aims to replace academic isolation with real-world execution.
But how does this transition feel from the inside? To dig deeper, we sat down with Esther Bailey, a fourth-year Interior Design student at TMU. In the following interview, Esther shares her journey from the conceptual freedom of the classroom to the rigid, yet rewarding, constraints of professional development.
The Professional Pivot: Transitioning from Studio to Site
How did it feel stepping out of the classroom and into a professional developer's environment? Was it intimidating, or more exciting than you expected?
At first, it was more exciting than intimidating, as it was introduced to our class in a studio context. But as the work progressed and the scope of the project really sank in, I started to notice the gap between what I could imagine on paper and what could actually be built. Very early on, there is definitely a dissonance between what is drawn on paper and what can actually be realized, which I do appreciate because of the conceptual push that this type of training provides.
What I’ve learned is that with design, and especially design-builds, there comes a point where you have to stop being purely creative and instead channel that creativity into being a problem-solving machine to tackle all the technical challenges that emerge from the initial ideation phase. Experiencing this in a professional environment really highlighted the balance between vision and practicality and made me appreciate how much professional design is about navigating that tension successfully.
What was the biggest difference between designing for a school project and presenting your ideas to an actual developer?
I want to say authorship is the keyword here. Technically, there is no validation stronger than the authorship you have over a school studio project done entirely on your own and in your own taste. Yet, in terms of the weight that such a hypothetical project carries in legitimizing your place as a designer, it’s actually quite light. Our professor, Jonathon Anderson, emphasized the importance of authorship for designers at the beginning of the semester. He also emphasized letting go of your personal vision for the client’s vision.
The interesting thing about authorship in design is that your value as a working designer often increases the more you are involved in realizing someone else’s vision. At first, this might seem counterintuitive, but I see it as a metaphor for how collaboration should work: each of us contributing our expertise toward a common goal. As designers, we provide a valuable skill, and it’s often the constraints of a real project—what pushes our skills into action—that make our value most apparent.
Did you receive any feedback from the developer that completely shifted how you approach interior design? What was that piece of feedback, and how did it make you feel at the time?
As I mentioned during the panel discussion, we had a mid-term review with HOEM, Superkül, and Mason Studio, where we presented our design for a manual-turning light object. The feedback was enthusiastic and offered suggestions that could have completely shifted the direction of our project. At that point, about 95% of the design needed to be finalized to begin prototyping, but the feedback we received was still at the ideation stage.
After the review, our team met and decided to set aside the suggestions involving motor mechanisms and more complex technological interventions. I felt this adjustment was necessary to realistically achieve our goals. There was a brief moment of reflection on the proposed edits, but we collectively agreed that, given our timeline, it wasn’t the best move. We were confident that our original concept could fulfill HOEM’s vision for the space. By the time of the final presentation, there was no mention of the midterm suggestions, which to me affirmed that our project was strong from the start.
The Reality Check: Navigating Constraints
Did working with a developer change how you look at constraints like budgets, building codes, or client demands? How did that affect your creative process?
Working with a developer cleared up questions I had about budgets and client demands. I found that constraints actually make things easier for me—I think many creatives can agree that nothing is more intimidating than a blank sheet of paper when you’re first brainstorming. Too much freedom can feel like none at all.
Constraints aren’t restrictions on creativity, but rather a shift in design thinking. For example, when we were designing a piece that had to be both durable and functional, we had to figure out how to support the weight of heavy materials while still allowing parts of it to move. Each requirement pushed us to new avenues of problem-solving, which led us to learn new fabrication techniques, such as working with steel rods and bearings or learning CNC milling. This experience made my creative process more strategic and resourceful, without limiting imagination.
In your opinion, how important is it for design and architecture students to understand the developer’s mindset before they graduate?
I have a feeling it is very important, and I say that because I don’t think I have fully grasped the entire picture yet. There is a kind of gap between education and practice, which this project helped reveal. In school, students often work with ideal precepts in mind and have the freedom to explore personal taste. In reality, there are many more constraints and far less room to apply a personal style, especially at the beginning of a career. While it is important to develop your own design values, it is equally, if not more, important to understand how to apply them to real problems, which requires careful optimization.
Building Bridges: Education vs. Industry
Do you feel universities and colleges do enough to create these kinds of industry bridges, or is your experience a rare exception?
I can only speak from my experience, and I haven’t attended any other post-secondary programs, but from what I’ve seen, these kinds of industry connections are quite rare. Opportunities to work directly with professionals in ways that meaningfully shape your projects don’t happen often, and when they do, they’re incredibly valuable for understanding real-world constraints, expectations, and problem-solving strategies. I hope to see this model become more common in the future.
How do you think these collaborations could be improved to better benefit both students and developers?
I think these collaborations could be strengthened by giving students a clearer understanding of the industry earlier in their education. This includes learning how projects are actually developed and the systems behind design, built from developers themselves as guest speakers, not just focusing on conceptual design within the studio. An interior design degree is less applicable if it remains purely theoretical, so students would benefit from more practical exposure that can get us thinking about how to materialize theory in real projects, especially toward the end of the program before entering practice.
I cannot fully speak from a developer’s perspective, but simply recognizing students as potential contributors could open up new ideas and opportunities. Inviting emerging designers into professional conversations brings a fresh point of view.
Having the HOEM team present at the start of the semester was especially valuable because it gave us a clear understanding of how they operate, what the project involved, and how they approach their work. Unlike typical critiques from guests in the design field—that still stay in a hypothetical space and can be very subjective and unnecessarily intimidating at times—this felt grounded in real constraints and expectations. It felt like both sides were working toward a shared outcome, and that dynamic could become even stronger as this type of collaboration becomes more common.
The Long Game: Networking and Career Edge
How has this experience shaped your professional network? Did it open doors or lead to connections you wouldn't have made otherwise?
I became more comfortable speaking with people in the industry as I grew more familiar with real-world projects. Instead of feeling pressure to impress professionals, I realized the best way to connect with people as a student is to embrace my lack of knowledge in their area of expertise. This allowed me to engage on a more genuine, human level, which I believe led me to opportunities like being a part of the panel discussion for the opening night of Practice Before Practice at Mason Studio!
Do you feel this collaboration gave you a competitive edge as you prepare to enter the job market?
Yes, I definitely benefited from this project in terms of network expansion and portfolio, as it was design practice, not design theory. The soft skills I gained from this experience are what I want to emphasize; a huge portion of the work is how you engage with people across the numerous decisions you have to make throughout the design process. Proactively communicating with my team, professor, developers, and designers trained me to be able to ask better questions, present clearly, and respond to feedback
If you could give just one piece of advice to a first-year interior design or architecture student about networking, what would it be?
The term “networking” is pushed so often that it can feel like talking to the right person will set you up for life. In reality, it is not that useful unless you know what you want from the people you are speaking to. If you are anything like I was in my first year and felt completely lost and unsure (I still am, just not as badly as three years ago), take time to understand your interests and explore the different paths your degree can lead to. That process naturally leads to questions like, “How do I get there?” Then, when you attend events, you have questions to ask people who are in overlapping fields with your interests. People enjoy talking about their work, and those conversations are often more valuable than research. You may even realize that something you thought you liked is not actually for you.
Ultimately, focus on understanding what interests you, or at least what does not. Take your time with that. Do not try to impress people. Be curious, be genuine, and aim to learn something from every interaction!
Why This Partnership Matters
This publication aims to highlight the tangible benefits of bridging the gap between academia and industry. By integrating student talent into real estate development, we aren't just teaching design—we are accelerating the growth of the next generation of architects and developers. This model provides firms with a fresh, creative engine while giving students a high-stakes environment where their ideas can actually take shape.
But the conversation doesn’t stop with the student experience. To understand the broader impact on the industry and the professional mechanics of this model, continue to our next feature. We sit down with Stanley Sun, Co-Founder and Creative Director at Mason Studio, to explore the strategic benefits and the challenges of mentoring the next generation. Discover how this collaboration is redefining the standard for professional practice and what happens when established firms open their doors to the "theory" of the classroom.
Currently completing her Bachelor of Interior Design at Toronto Metropolitan University (Class of 2026), Esther possesses an academic foundation defined by a strong work ethic rooted in her Korean upbringing. This disciplined approach informs her current professional development as an intern at Mason Studio, where she is refining a design philosophy centred on functional cohesion and narrative consistency. Rather than adhering to a fixed signature style, Esther focuses on executing projects that respond thoughtfully to their exterior context and existing interior conditions, using colour, geometry, and layout to heighten the occupant’s experience—ranging from moments of profound stillness to vibrant engagement.
Esther’s professional ambition is to create spaces that leave a lasting impression on those who inhabit them, moving beyond the industry trend of designing primarily for the camera. She is particularly drawn to the power of transient moments—such as runways, events, and spatial interventions—where atmosphere, emotion, and memory are the primary design outcomes. Ultimately, she aims to contribute to the field by shifting the focus toward a truly human-centred, experiential design language, where the success of a space is measured not by how it is seen, but by how it is felt and remembered.
