by Nick Phillips | CEO of The Almshouse Association
On my way to a meeting last week, I found myself drawn to look through the windows of a building I was passing. Inside was an amazing, light-filled model world that immediately caught my attention. I stopped for a moment to take it all in, only to realise that this was, in fact, the very place where my meeting with Thomas Heatherwick and Abigail Scott Paul of Humanise, was taking place.
In their own words, Humanise are “small team with a global mission to fight for the buildings and cities we need: ones which are radically more interesting, joyful and human”.
I was expecting the usual office setting: a reception desk, a few chairs, perhaps a magazine rack. If you’re lucky, there might even be a water cooler or coffee machine. What I encountered was a jolt to the system – and a very welcome one, and what followed was an energising exchange of ideas that sparked something, challenged my thinking and left me seeing things from a different perspective.
I am lucky enough to have a very interesting and enjoyable job and in my job to meet some genuinely interesting people. And occasionally, I leave a meeting feeling truly inspired – an overused word I know, but one that feels entirely appropriate today. For me, inspiration is when someone lands a message or an idea that makes me pause and rethink, reconsider or even reimagine something I thought I already understood. It’s that rare moment when a conversation shifts your perspective and makes you see something familiar in a completely different light.
It was, therefore, an absolute delight to meet Thomas Heatherwick and Abigail Scott Paul at their office in London. Did I say office? I mean workshop, exhibition space, concept coffee house, creative workspace – all rolled into one. In short, an extraordinary factory of ideas and wonderful models of ground breaking projects.
The space was bright, active, innovative and buzzing with energy. Models of buildings, photographs of street scapes, parks, hospitals, offices. People were working on drawings and prototypes, and displays showcased projects at every stage of development , including, rather wonderfully, the business end of a London bus.
But what struck me just as much as the space was the people. Everyone I met seemed genuinely curious and keen to talk. They were open, engaging and welcoming. It was one of the friendliest workplaces I’ve ever visited.
I chatted with the curator as she carefully positioned a model of the building, a breathtaking, layered model of a living, growing, building in Japan. She showed me other projects underway too, from a restful and tranquil hospital cancer unit in Leeds to extraordinary community buildings and parks around the world.
Then I met Thomas and Abigail.
Our conversation ranged widely: buildings, community, people, loneliness, joy and obligation. We talked about projects from around the world, but, more importantly, about the problems they were trying to solve and how good design could not only address those problems, but bring joy to the people and communities around them.
Then we started talking about almshouses.
We talked about how they can reduce loneliness and give residents a sense of place, belonging and community. Thomas then asked a deceptively simple question about fulfilling a purpose: Is the purpose of the building just for those inside? How could that sense of place be shared with the people outside the almshouse community?
And that really set some hares running.
For much of my work and interest, I have focused on the function and impact of almshouses for the people who live within them. We know that almshouses are a good thing for residents and I am more convinced than ever that they are increasingly relevant to the world we live in today.
But I realised that I hadn’t given much thought to how the architecture of almshouses might create joy beyond the courtyard as well as within it.We began exploring the idea of a new approach to almshouse design; one that creates a sense of place, security and belonging not only for those who live there, but for the wider community around them.
And then another discussion emerged: could the longevity and impact of an almshouse be multiplied by the value it brings to the wider community? Could the long term value of a building be increased by its external beauty and functionality?
Almshouses have been creating spaces where people can find companionship, security and community for more than a thousand years. So, is there an opportunity to extend that sense of connection and joy beyond the community itself through thoughtful, ambitious design?
This is only the beginning of the conversation. But what an exciting conversation to be having. For the almshouse movement, there is a remarkable opportunity to engage with a true adventurer in design – someone willing to challenge convention, ask different questions and imagine what might be possible.
It’s very much a work in progress. And, for me, that’s what makes it so exciting.
posted 30 September 2026