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Offices say a lot about personality

Some professionals use offices to make a personal statement

By Timothy DeFeo, Globe Correspondent, 12/29/02

Globe Staff Photo/ Sarah Brezinsky FAMILIAR TOUCH -- Philip Nardone Jr., president of PAN Communications in Andover, likes clean, simple lines. Glass witching balls were gifts from his parents. Globe Staff Photo/Wendy Maeda SAY IT LOUD -- Attorney Douglas Perlo enlisted his family to reproduce a Miro painting on his office wall. His wife, an artist, did the serious brushwork. Globe Staff Photo/Wendy Maeda INFORMATION FACTORY -- Consultant Robert Gahtan says he can find anything in his office in less than 37 seconds. It "supports me," he says.

Why do workers line their cubicle walls and offices with plastic knick-knacks, a treasured Dilbert coffee mug, photos of the smiling family dog?

Creating a sense of home is surely one reason. A recent study by the Radcliffe Public Policy Center found that one in five employees put in more than 50 hours per week at work, the equivalent of more than six work days a week. The office worker is now living in the office.

Of course, projecting a corporate image cannot be far down the list of reasons for putting a little spin on the workspace. But there are also those spaces that are just pure expressions of self. People want ''to send a message about their personality or who they are'' in their offices, according to Steven Basque, a principal and interior designer at ADD Inc., an architecture firm in Cambridge.

''It is a way of communicating what they're about, and what the firm is doing,'' said Basque.

Eighty-five percent of office workers customize their workspace, according to a survey by Steelcase Inc., a designer of office furniture and environments. And nearly 40 percent say they do so to give people a peek at their personality. However, 42 percent say their company does not encourage this behavior.

Whether to intimidate or entice clients, or to display authority or friendliness to co-workers, the work space can evoke many postures.

Hidden behind the image of Boston's staid corporate culture are some unusual personal offices filled with eclectic collections, flamboyant artistic expressions, and intriguing reflections of their unique occupants.

A glimpse into the offices of three area workers - an attorney, a consultant, and a public relations executive - reveals how each has shaped his workspace in his own unique fashion.

All in the details

Two years ago, PAN Communications president Philip Nardone Jr. was staring at 20,000 square feet of gutted, former industrial floor space at 300 Brickstone Square in Andover. His own office would occupy a 17-by-20-foot space, plus a small bathroom, in the reclaimed manufacturing complex, built in 1922.

The public relations veteran has no formal design background. But with guidance from architect Dewey A. Nichols, he set out to be involved in every color, material, and construction decision involving his office.

Nardone, who describes himself as a ''detail-oriented guy,'' wanted the new workspace to transmit PAN's image as a creative shop to clients. ''When someone walks into PAN, I want the office environment to immediately capture the unique culture of the firm - edgy, creative, high energy,'' he said.

Nardone's own open-door style of management brings his clients and young staff into his office all day. His office is accessible from opposing ends via two maple wood doors, each inlaid with 2-by-5-foot handmade, opaque glass panels. The custom-made inserts were formed by pouring molten glass onto patterned sand; the result is a bark-like textured, relief surface.

The room conveys a warm ambience through its use of maple for the furniture and wall moldings. Nardone prefers ''the clean look, with simple lines'' of a desk without draws. Storage is accommodated in large cabinetry lining the wall behind his desk chair.

To foster a calming, reflective influence at meetings, Nardone placed a convex 75-gallon saltwater fish tank alongside the conference table. He said he wanted to encourage clients and employees ''to take a moment on important decisions.''

There are elements in the office that retain the industrial heritage of the building. The 14-foot ceilings are disrupted by exposed air ducts, which have been painted a shade of black that suggests a deep purple. Imperfections remain in the pock-marked cement floor, which has been stained a sandy hue.

A single piece of artwork hangs on the wall opposite his desk: a painting of a violinist by Nardone's uncle, meant to symbolize his characterization of his nephew as a ''maestro'' at his work. Suspended in front of a window is an assortment of glass witching balls. Nardone's parents have given him one each year on the anniversary of the start of his company.

Thinking outside the white box

At his law firm on North Washington Street, three blocks from the FleetCenter, medical malpractice attorney Douglas Perlo faced a stark, white office, made worse by the glare of harsh, fluorescent lighting - and he couldn't stomach it any longer.

A sterile environment may suit his physician clients at Ficksman & Conley, but Perlo said he had to express something of himself in his office for his own sanity. ''Would you want to spend the majority of your life inside a white box?'' he said. ''I'm at work almost 12 hours each day, and hanging dusty prints on the wall just doesn't cut it.''

So Perlo and his wife, Rebecca, an amateur artist, settled on reproducing a painting on an office wall.

After considering the size of the 10-by-7-foot surface and Perlo's willingness to try something daring in decorating, they began rummaging through modern and surrealist art books. What met their criteria was Joan Miro's ''Red Sun,'' painted in 1948 - a work with large, amorphous forms of striking blue and dominated by a brilliant-red sun.

Last year, Perlo, his wife, and their two young children gathered at his office after work hours. By 10 p.m., they had applied two coats of matte, black paint as a base, covering the whole wall behind his desk. He and the kids headed home, leaving the serious brushwork to his wife.

She returned home the next morning at 8 a.m., leaving behind a finished work and her blue hand-print in the lower-left corner as a signature. The painting in this 12-by-20-foot office serves as the backdrop for Perlo's inward facing desk.

The dark, bold work commands immediate attention, although very few people outside the firm ever see it. The extravagant wall treatment is unintentionally hidden from passersby and the public. A lack of free space prevents Perlo from meeting with clients in his personal office: columns of case files rise up from most available horizontal surfaces.

Perlo said many people failed to notice the change or asked weeks after it was finished, ''Was that always there?'' The closest he has gotten to a negative reaction was a partner in the firm remarking, ''Did you get permission to do that?''

While a few pieces of his children's artwork adorn an adjacent wall, his bold personal expression begins and ends with the Miro.

Lots of stuff, little confusion

The second-story office overlooking Arlington Center is meticulously crammed with stuff.

Every wall of this 8-by-18-foot space is lined with floor-to-ceiling bookcases packed with binders, notebooks, manuals, office supplies, and decades worth of magazine articles and research work. On the longest wall is a row of five workstations with PCs, one from the mid-1980s still humming along.

But this is not the office of the ultimate packrat. In fact, consultant Robert Gahtan brags he can find anything in his office in less than 37 seconds. Doubters are invited to test him with a stopwatch.

The office is a reflection of his work as president of the Center for Executive Effectiveness. A test lab for how an office should function, it includes every efficiency-enhancing technique Gahtan has developed.

What is compelling about this office, beyond the sheer volume of material, is its Cartesian grid infrastructure, with letters blanketing every wall and desk. It is the key to quickly retrieving whatever Gahtan wants in this office.

''The office supports me, whatever direction I take,'' said Gahtan as he showed how his office works by quickly finding a 15-year-old magazine article.

Gahtan began developing his approach to organizing in 1983 after continuous overseas business trips forced him to carry his ''office'' in a suitcase. He first became interested in access speed, but realized the root inefficiency in the modern office was a lack of procedures.

The typical response he hears from people shown how his office functions is: ''How come they're not doing it this way in my office?''

''An office is an information factory, that's all it is,'' said Gahtan. ''We bring confusion to a minimum.'' And he has a refined procedure for doing and finding everything.

Tim DeFeo is a freelance writer. Reach him at timdefeo@yahoo.com.

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