There’s a quiet tension in making something slowly, then asking people to wait for it. In an age of next-day delivery and instant gratification, patience has become both a risk and a strategy. But maybe there’s still a space for things made by hand, with care, and for reasons that go beyond scale. Maybe the value isn’t only in speed—but in memory, recognition, or affection for a place. Right now, Adam is thinking about this every day as he runs a small but focused studio from Birmingham. After nearly a decade of trial, freelance work, and experimentation, Spaceplay—his concrete model business—is becoming something more defined. His models of brutalist buildings, once just creative artifacts, are now products sold online to a growing global customer base. With a focus on urban heritage, sentimental gifting, and e-commerce infrastructure, Adam is building not just objects, but a business that reflects his own shift from disillusioned architect to full-time creative founder.

An e-commerce business born from artistic instinct and built through persistence

From the start, Spaceplay wasn’t formed around a market—it was built around a feeling. After being made redundant from an architecture job, Adam wanted to create something hands-on again. “Studying architecture was really exciting,” he said. “But in practice, it was dry. Very repetitive. It kind of crushed the creativity.” He started a small studio, using model-making and 3D printing tools, with no clear idea of what the business would be. As he experimented, a public debate over brutalist buildings in the UK gave the project context. “There were questions about whether these buildings should be demolished or preserved,” he said. “So I started responding to that with small models—something between art and design.”

He sold his first products directly to customers. “One thing led to another,” he said. “A commission came, then another. I was working part-time at first, just to keep going. But gradually, it became a full-time thing.” Today, the business sells concrete miniatures of buildings—primarily brutalist ones—through a direct-to-consumer e-commerce site. There are about 60 models available, with more being added every month. Most products sell for around €50. “People buy them because they’re connected to a place,” he said. “University buildings, cities they grew up in, places they care about.”

Adam has intentionally resisted scaling too fast. “I’ve never taken external capital,” he said. “I’ve tried to build slowly, learning as I go.” That approach shows up in his operations, too. Products are handmade, often to order, with a lead time of several weeks. “It’s part of the value proposition. It’s not a supermarket product—it’s a crafted thing. People are usually happy to wait for something meaningful.”

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“It was never designed as a gift product—but that’s what it’s become.”

While the business started from Adam’s personal connection to architecture, the market revealed itself later. “It’s become a great gift,” he said. “People will buy one for a friend who’s into architecture, or someone who studied at a certain university. That wasn’t the original plan, but it works.” He’s now selling globally, with early traction in Spain, France, and the US. “In the UK, brutalism is still misunderstood. But internationally, there’s more appreciation. I think the American market could be huge.”

For now, the primary channel remains direct-to-consumer e-commerce, supported by Instagram and a growing email list. “There’s this idea that you want to own your audience,” he said. “So I built a weekly newsletter—three and a half thousand subscribers now—and I use it to tell stories, share new models, and layer in launches. It’s not pushy. It just fits.”

His marketing strategy is grounded in his own interests. “I’m not a marketer,” he said. “But I’m passionate about what I do. That makes it easier to share. You just try to balance reach with fulfillment.” Paid ads started small and have grown cautiously. He outsources where needed, working with contractors via platforms like Fiverr and Upwork to manage Facebook advertising.

“It still feels personal. But now I’m not alone in the room.”

Scaling production has been the biggest challenge. Adam still designs and oversees every model, but now works with a small team. “There are three of us regularly, plus a few others part-time,” he said. “It’s important to keep the identity, but I can’t do everything anymore.” He’s been careful not to overpromise—lead times are part of the model, and expectations are managed upfront. “You have to avoid the race to the bottom,” he said. “Cheaper and faster isn’t the goal. Delivering something well, with meaning, is.”

Margins are strong for direct-to-customer sales, though less so for wholesale. “People tell me I could charge double,” he said. “But affordability is part of the ethos. When people receive the model, I want them to feel like they got great value.” Wholesale and corporate gifting are areas of interest, but require new infrastructure. “I’ve had museums and hotels reach out. There’s interest. But you have to be ready to deliver.”

Adam doesn’t have a set growth target—but he does have a direction. He wants the business to function without him, at least partially. “It would be a success if it ran for two months without me having to touch it,” he said. “That would mean the systems work. That it’s not just about me.” For now, he’s building toward that—one model, one market, and one carefully paced system at a time.

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