I’m Doing Something Slightly Different. Dogs.
A Look Behind the Scenes of ECE’s Barkitecture Build
Intro
When Stuart, the managing director of ECE Architecture, paused mid-sentence and said, “I’m doing something slightly different, away from the world of architecture… dogs” I couldn't help but chuckle. Somehow, in the midst of his busy schedule, he'd found the time to come and discuss this interesting new venture for the established but modern architectural company, a journey set for creativity, fun, intrigue, and man’s best friend. But he'd managed to sum it up in a four-letters, dogs... a blunt loss of words that of recognised this is a new world. A sidestep from human dwellings and sculptural, vastly more scaled up buildings.
Now, Stuart is a busy guy, and while gathering his thoughts against an ever-pressing schedule, he found himself momentarily without the perfect answer. I'm sure we can sympathise. But strange though it was, it became the perfect answer, full of raw honesty and unexpected charm. Dogs struck a chord that kick-started a viewer’s interest and gathered a potential audience’s attention. A stripped-back linguistic understanding that showed us this was a new venture for them too. Building a kennel hadn’t previously been a direction for ECE.
The proposed kennel build was by invitation of Barkitecture, hosted at Goodwoof, home to the elite dog lovers. A creative crossover between companies, designers, celebrities, enthusiasts, and their four-legged love. It’s a privilege to be invited to take part for my client, ECE. And my job was to showcase the journey alongside the finished article (not attending Goodwoof itself).
Day One: Arriving at Millimetre
Having joined the process halfway through, I was playing catch-up. Capturing the story up to this point meant interviewing the creatives and discussing inspiration and strategy.
The journey started with day one at Millimetre, the collaborators and fabricators behind the build, partners in the creative process. Walking into their large creation space was like stepping into a backstage scene dock in a busy theatre: noisy, kinetic, purposeful. A soundscape mixture of welding, hammering, cutting, and drilling. But as I approached our project, which was well underway, it wasn’t just the sound, it was the precision. The 7-axis machine, in its own private booth, had a large drill bit with a contact area literally a millimetre wide. It struck me how long this process would take, even with all the tech. This wasn’t a slap-it-together-and-hope job. It was art with a machine.
Having met the team and understood the process that was about to unfold, I prepped my camera and started filming.
Filming through the glass
Capturing that art came with challenges. Most of the external interactions were fairly standard, finding moments of intrigue or appreciation. But I wasn’t allowed in the room with the machine while it was running, and capturing that was critical. So I filmed through the glass using a rubber lens hood to minimise reflections. That also gave me a bonus: stepping back, I could capture people watching from outside. You’d see the reaction and the thing they were reacting to. Win.
Still, I wanted more. I risked placing a second camera in the room, stripped bare of anything fan-heavy or too valuable, just a static wide shot. I had one chance to get something clean before the fine sawdust could overwhelm the gear (The last thing I want it to fill up a zoom lens with sawdust). Due to its fairly abstract shape and unique process, the shell became the perfect hook to draw an audience into another 3–5 seconds of attention. It became the opening shot of the film.
As the day progressed, we moved into interviews in the meeting room. Lighting was controlled, sound was clean, and it gave us a quiet moment of reflection after the drama of the workshop floor. Surrounded by tools of their craft and past projects, rich in wooden texture, the meeting room reminded me of my granddad’s carpentry workshop. Models of presumably much larger builds scattered the shelves, littered with odd shapes. In the centre was a large round table that didn't leave much room for the chairs to surround it before abutting the wall. Joining as part of the table’s imagined ensemble, camera A became part of the conversation, allowing camera B to capture those all-important natural patterns of body language during conversation. We conducted two interviews, Stuart and then John, who both discussed the creative process with a revised depth of that previously mentioned.
Day Two: ECE and Sandy
The second shoot day took place at ECE’s offices, where the finished kennel and its would-be occupant came together for the final scene. Deciding the company’s large boardroom would be a suitable space, we removed the long table and began dressing the space.
This was to be a very different shoot to Day #1. For me, this was creating a pop-up photo studio featuring an infinity wall, lights, and some well-placed stylish plants for those behind-the-scenes “we're in a modern studio” ambience. The studio we created was perfect, and the team seemed very happy with the results we were getting. With a dual purpose, I set about capturing photos alongside impromptu moments of video for the journey documentation.
By the time Matt (Director of Millimetre) arrived with Sandy, the shoot was well underway, but pausing to capture the welcoming buzz and introductions was a worthwhile decision. Now, about Sandy. I'd only heard stories up to this point. Growing up at Millimetre in and around the woodwork and engineering, he was Matt’s dog and was obviously loved. The team had told me that Sandy, being a medium-sized dog, had been measured and used as a reference/guide for the project. The irony being that Sandy didn't like tape measures... an adorable meander in the story that reminded me this was a journey, and moments like this are points to be treasured and enjoyed in retrospect. Although this element didn't make the final cut, it highlighted a spark of warmth and love that guided the mood of the video.
Now, it's worth remembering that Sandy was also not a trained actor. However, coming back to the shoot, in my mind, Sandy held the power to make this whole narrative work, or not. His seal of approval was vital. Think of an Andrex puppy with a phobia of toilet roll!!? What a disaster that would be.
Panic over, he was everything I hoped for: sweet, wary, and the perfect amount of disinterest in my camera. Bringing him into the space allowed for a pause for coffee as Sandy got used to everything. The kennel, a sculpted cedar shell with a dark, cave-like entrance, understandably spooked him.
We tried coaxing him with treats (thank you, Matt) and encouragement, but I was essentially the guy with no-squeaky-rubber-duck who nobody had told the dog to listen to. The moment that made it all worth it? When Sandy finally decided to step inside, settle down, and rest his chin just outside the shell. It was the shot. It just… happened.
Planned, but not entirely orchestrated, it reminded me of the importance of never putting the camera down during a shoot, even in down times. Jumping to action at the drop of a hat, trying not to ruin the moment while also trying not to miss the moment. I think we managed to get some lovely shots in both video and photo formats that showcased varying energies and uses for the kennel. The edit proved to be great fun and the team were thrilled with the results, a benefit of consistency from capturing both video and photos in the same sitting.
Wrap-up
So yes, I have been doing something a bit different too. Dogs!
The result? A video I’m genuinely proud of. Not because it was flawless, but because it wasn’t. It was real. And I reckon Sandy approved in the end.
Mike
With thanks:
Special thanks to the team at ECE: Stuart, John and in particular to Veronika for paving the way and making it all run smoothly.
