It’s easy to misunderstand what ‘built environment communications’ means. For most people it means two things: press and social media. But for an industry that is in permanent dialogue with government, communities, clients and collaborators, and the myriad stakeholders whose statutory opinions are sought during planning, this seems like a desperately narrow definition. 

It’s one of the reasons why, when analysing organisations’ written, spoken and visual output, I see distinct issues underpinned by the same structural problem. In short, organisations rarely see communications systematically, holistically, or in any fashion that suggests that dots should be connected across brand, branding, marketing, business development and engagement.

Communications are treated as an afterthought: press coverage at the end of a long project, social media channels that read like notice boards, once-in-a-blue-moon newsletters that aren’t worth signing up for. The influence of communications as a discipline is often entirely absent where it matters most: in planning documents, public exhibitions, investor decks, tenders and pitches.

The consequences

It’s no exaggeration to say that projects suffer when communications fail. Planning applications falter because communities weren’t properly engaged, regeneration schemes stall because stakeholders don’t understand the vision, commercial opportunities are missed because the story wasn’t compelling enough. Fine design work and good intentions are undermined: strong branding means nothing if your website doesn’t function properly; well-researched reports can’t influence policy if no one ever sees them.

At the Phoenix in Lewes, communications were central to operations. A regular newsletter opened up dialogue with the local community, and led to clarity of thought internally. A philosophy was established through iteration, and influenced campaigns, press, video and documents such as the Design & Access Statement. Local support, national coverage and multiple awards followed because people understood what we were trying to achieve and why it mattered.

Where it breaks down

Most organisations don’t have dedicated communications teams or big budgets. I come across studios where one person manages all outreach in the snatches of time between their main work. Somewhat strangely, this is often one of two people: the most junior person in the office – who’s unable to influence a wider culture shift – or the most senior – whose instincts are right, but execution suffers from a persistent lack of time. 

I also see vast swathes of the budget spent on PR. On the surface, this makes sense: putting projects and people in front of interested audiences, raising profiles, driving clicks and, no doubt, driving invitations and enabling collaborations. But often this work is undertaken in complete isolation to everything else, unloaded onto an agency without any thought of internal capacity building. 

The answer to the question ‘where is the strategy that underpins this work?’ is invariably ‘there isn’t one’. I’ve seen companies with seemingly strong positioning, sparkling branding and decent press unable to properly define themselves in front of potential clients and collaborators – or directors reworking decks at the 11th hour – because no one’s established best practice.

Joined-up thinking

Creating better built environment communications is never about the relentless pursuit of more content or the grim dance to the ever-shifting algorithm, but simple, joined-up thinking: establishing clear frameworks, templates and strategies to communicate confidently across channels, media and audiences. 

I’ve seen this have a profound effect: a Design & Access Statement that’s actually readable; social media that reinforces planning narratives; public exhibitions that actually engage communities, through explaining ambitions, constraints and objectives in succinct and inclusive language. 

This comes through understanding two fundamentals: why you’re communicating (not just what), and who you’re speaking to. Good communicators remember they’re addressing people, not planners or investors in the abstract. They bring stories to life by attending to the details – the small interventions and street-level features that make a place feel real, not just technically sound or planning compliant. 

Communicating through complexity

Built environment projects are often complex, but complexity isn’t an excuse for obscurity – something I see in project descriptions and planning documents, day in, day out. Good communications isn’t about dumbing things down, but structuring information clearly, using everyday language while respecting the audience’s intelligence. 

This is where editorial discipline matters. A background in journalism and publishing teaches you to cut to the essentials, organise information logically, and write for people who don’t have specialist knowledge, but are willing to learn more. A good communicator will place trust in themself to share big ideas, and in their audience to understand them. 

Visual thinking matters too: people make judgements based on layout, hierarchy and imagery, not just words – in the same way good urban design is informed by structure, legibility and wayfinding, not just aesthetics. Too often this concern for visual coherence goes missing when communicating information. 

How it works

Embedding communications doesn’t require huge budgets, but it does require time and strategic thinking about who you’re trying to reach, what they need to understand, and how to tell a coherent story across everything you produce.

The work begins with analysis – a look at what exists now, and how it’s functioning, both technically and conceptually – before moving on to frameworks, plans and workable examples. But the first step is understanding the power, importance and scope of communications – and why it matters. 

Built environment communications

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