Journal
25.08.2025
From Designer to User: A Different View of The Round
‘Walking into that full foyer on opening night, seeing 800 people filling the space exactly as we’d envisioned, that’s when you know the design worked. But experiencing it without our hard hats and clipboards? That revealed something completely different.’ – Jen Salter, Project Architect
As architects and interior designers, we don’t often get to experience our completed projects as everyday users. Recently, Jen and Liz attended “Fountain Lakes in Lockdown” at The Round, not as the design team, but as regular patrons with tickets in hand.
The show’s theme felt particularly resonant, as our BKK + KTA team had designed the building during Melbourne’s lockdowns, navigating client meetings in local parks and reviewing material samples from our kitchen tables while kids and pets made guest appearances on Zoom calls. The story line set in the midst of Covid lockdowns felt especially close to home.
Walking into the full foyer on a night when both theatres were sold out, we were immediately struck by the energy. Eight hundred people filled the space exactly as we’d envisioned. But experiencing it as users rather than designers revealed layers we are not always able to anticipate.
We found ourselves quietly observing the careful choreography of movement—people naturally gravitating toward intimate seating clusters or choosing to stand and mingle near the bar. This validated design decisions rooted in behavioural research that we hadn’t yet witnessed in action.
The excitement was palpable, with patrons preparing for the shows and every seating area and table in use. People seemed genuinely delighted to be there, and it was wonderful to see all the different zones we’d designed being utilized exactly as intended. The variety of seating options allowed everyone to find their perfect spot, creating the vibrant, social atmosphere we’d hoped for—exactly the kind of environment that supports the venue’s community-building mission.
The visit to the amenities, now famously “selfie-central”, offered a different perspective entirely. Despite the foyer’s capacity, the facilities were surprisingly empty, allowing us to appreciate design details that had been months in the making. We couldn’t resist joining the mirror selfie trend ourselves (yes it has become a thing), momentarily forgetting our professional connection to the space.
Experiencing the building as regular patrons—no hard hats, no back-of-house access, offered a totally different perspective. Joining the queue for refreshments and navigating the space without our usual project team access reminded us what it feels like to be a patron. Simple interactions, ordering a drink, finding our seats, settling in, revealed the difference between designing for flow and experiencing it firsthand.
Inside the theatre, familiar materials and finishes transformed from specification items into lived experience. Finding our seats and sitting on the very fabric we’d chosen for fire safety, acoustic performance, and durability, not just aesthetics, became simply comfortable seating. Acoustic treatments and wall linings that had dominated design workshops now functioned invisibly in the background. Liz, our interiors designer, couldn’t help herself; she had to touch all the upholstery and wall linings (some habits die hard).
When the lights dimmed and the performance began, we experienced something drawings and renders can never capture, the moment when architecture recedes and becomes pure atmosphere. Surrounded by an engaged audience, we watched our design fulfill its ultimate purpose: creating space for human connection and shared experience.
This experience reinforced something we know intellectually but don’t always feel viscerally, that successful public architecture isn’t just about technical execution or aesthetic achievement. It’s about creating spaces that people can inhabit naturally, where the design enhances rather than competes with the human activities it supports. It’s easy to get caught up in the technical side of design, but moments like these, sitting in the dark, surrounded by the audience and losing yourself in a show, remind us what it’s really all about.
Projects are not complete when construction ends. They’re complete once they’re lived in. And now this project feels complete to us.