Studio Rick Joy: Crafting Architecture that Respects Place

A sea of color flows through Princeton, New Jersey, a living time-lapse of students, academics, and locals rushing to their next destination. Winter teases the town, draping the crowd in navy and forest wool coats punctuated by splashes of scarlet parkas, a visual rhythm perfectly suited to the Ivy League streets. Amid the motion, Princeton Transit Hall stands as a quiet anchor, a modern structure whose presence feels both striking and inevitable within this historic community.

The station’s angled steel roof gently slopes toward the train tracks, concrete pillars rise like sentinels, and sunlight pours in through broad glass panes onto walnut benches, illuminating every corner with a soft, inviting glow. This project reflects the evolution of Studio Rick Joy, a Tucson-based architecture firm that has grown from its desert roots to become a global presence over 25 years.

“We are part of an evolution, and we need to live with that in mind,” says Rick Joy, who founded the eponymous studio in 1993. Princeton Transit Hall, he explains, is more than a building; it is a milestone marking the firm’s shift from designing intimate desert residences to tackling large-scale collaborations with universities and public institutions.

Joy’s early projects, like the Catalina House and Palmer Rose House, were built with rammed earth, drawing material straight from the ground. Today, his studio tailors every project to its location, from cedar shingles in Vermont to white concrete in Turks and Caicos and copper belvederes on Long Island. “I don’t have a signature style,” Joy says. “My style is derived from the location I’m building in.”

The desert, however, remains in his DNA. His 2002 monograph, Desert Works, captured these early homes, which still define American residential architecture. Projects like Utah’s Amangiri resort, crafted alongside Marwan Al-Sayed and Wendell Burnette, continue this philosophy. Surrounded by 600 acres of untouched canyon wilderness, Amangiri is less a resort than functional art, a place to disappear into silence and contemplate the landscape.

That same respect for place permeates the studio itself. Joy emphasizes equity, diversity, and mental well-being in his Tucson offices, with courtyards, weekly massages, and a culture of ownership for every team member. “It’s a real equality-driven practice,” he says. “Two people with the same experience, a man and a woman, get exactly the same thing.”

Senior designer Matt Luck, drawn from the East Coast after discovering Desert Works, leads projects like Princeton Transit Hall. “Rick doesn’t just sketch buildings for us to execute,” Luck says. “Every employee has a big piece of ownership, and Rick fosters that.”

Peers and colleagues echo the sentiment. “His dedication to material practice and finishes is unlike many American practices,” says Mark Lee, chair of Harvard’s architecture department. “He’s quietly subversive, producing work on his own terms, serious, tenacious, confident.”

From slabs of desert earth to global landmarks, Studio Rick Joy charts its own deliberate path. After 25 years, the firm continues to balance material honesty, cultural nuance, and environmental sensitivity. For Rick Joy, the ultimate measure of success is quiet. “You do the best you can at what you do, and you make sure nobody recognizes you at the beach,” a borrowed insight from Pritzker laureate Glenn Murcutt.

For Joy, the buildings speak loudly enough.

Words by Daniel Lebaron.