At Blanchard Group, we favor models over computer-generated renderings for a simple yet profound reason: they connect people to possibilities in a way that feels real and deeply personal. These models—often small, 3D-printed, and thoughtfully designed to distinguish between old and new—aren’t just tools; they’re conversation starters.
In one instance, we had to make a case for removing a campus’ original building—a seminal place steeped in memory, where alumni formed their most enduring connections to the institution. Understandably, this was a deeply emotional decision for donors and stakeholders. Using a model, we were able to show not only how the building would be replaced but also where its replacement would go, creating a new campus centerpiece at the end of a long green that symbolized the student experience unfolding along its length. Donors could weigh the changes in their hands as much as in their minds, imagining how the campus would evolve while still honoring its roots. This tactile experience turned a daunting decision into a meaningful conversation about the future.
Models remind us that timeless ideas continue to engage communities, inspire action, and shape visions of the future. For over a thousand years, physical models have been used to guide and involve communities to create lasting change. Today, they continue to play a pivotal role, especially in independent education, where growth and change are fueled by community generosity. Remarkably, 98% of funding for major projects comes from just 2% of a school’s community. Fundraising is about more than broad campaigns; it’s an intimate, one-on-one conversation about legacy—one that often involves the very hearts of those who have deep ties to the institution.
A physical model offers something a computer rendering cannot: texture, weight, and moreover, an invitation to explore. Models can be held, turned, and viewed from multiple angles, allowing observers to see the part and the whole in harmony. Unlike a static rendering, which shows a single, polished perspective, models spark imagination. They encourage broader thinking about change and impact, eliciting conversations—aha moments, not ta-da moments.
Models don’t just visualize change—they invite conversations and spark imagination.
For donors, this tactile experience is critical. Their investment isn’t just financial; it’s about legacy. They’re thinking deeply about how their generosity fits into the campus’s broader form and organization, how it aligns with the patterns of student use, and how it supports the school’s strategic vision for the future. Models help them see where they belong in that story—not as a line item in a campaign, but as an integral part of the institution’s enduring identity. Each turn of the model helps donors see beyond plans and proposals—they see their part in shaping the campus’s future, a future that will bear their mark for generations to come.
For donors, a model isn’t just a tool—it’s a way to see their legacy take shape.
In a world increasingly dominated by the virtual, we believe in the enduring power of the tangible. Models do more than visualize a project—they foster connections, spark important conversations, and bring donors closer to the legacy they’re helping to build.