Countless Chattanoogans have witnessed this. Within days of moving here, Alex Reyland discovered it himself. 

In 2015, he joined HK Architects, one of many architects working on design that would ultimately change our city’s identity. 

His first big job? Helping renovate the historic Chattanooga Bank Building. His second job? The re-imagination of Miller Park. Then, Cameron Harbor.

From this, Alex, who became partner in 2020, learned a foundational truth...

“HK is integral to our city’s fabric,” he said.

In the mid-1990s, Heidi Hefferlin and Craig Kronenberg had taken Melissa’s suggestion to heart, relocating from Los Angeles to Chattanooga, near Heidi’s childhood home. 

They began working on local residential renovations, which is how Heidi found herself inside a client’s attic one afternoon. 

At the time, her personal life was in the middle of a renovation, as well. 

Another firm was recruiting Heidi. Craig was a partner in an overseas firm. It was one of those crossroads moments where life could go in any direction. 

There in the attic, the client saw the tremendous talent and potential in Heidi, and gently made a suggestion that would shift, well, everything. 

It was 2015. At the time, Clif joked our old offices were becoming too safe. We needed to move closer to the edge. But the edge keeps moving.

The East Main building sits along a rail line, perfect for 20th-century industry, once housing a vehicle repair shop, printing shop and textile mill. For the 21st-century, an evolution was in order. 

They called it The Wheelhouse. 

With equal parts boldness and love, Heidi and Craig developed the building into a modern experiment in collaboration and style. Their plan cultivated an explosion of talent – the circus got a lot bigger – as Set in Stone, also headquartered there, became a frequent partner on projects. 

It is a gorgeous, effective space, allowing HK to do what it does best: adaptive reuse and partnership for community building and growth. Just like the Southside. 

Clif tells one small story to illustrate Heidi’s larger point. 

“Chattanooga’s had an electric shuttle running for years and it has these little shuttle stops,” he began. “ In partnership with the Chattanooga Design Studio, Craig designed the electric shuttle stops and we were to place them throughout the city.”

So, Clif’s job was to scout out potential locations. He’d pull his rusty car onto the curb, hazard lights flashing, and rush out to measure, dodging oncoming traffic, pedestrians and bicyclists. 

““I probably parked illegally 24 times in 24 locations to carefully measure how to fit the all those bus shelters into a crowded sidewalk,” he said. 

Celeste agrees. Not only has HK’s growth been steady, but its contributions have, too. Some days, she’ll casually drive out of her way, slowing down near Lay Low – the former gambling club Craig designed and Heidi renovated into a Southside bed-and-breakfast - just to gaze at what she calls “a slice of heaven.”

Behind it all? For Celeste and many others, one woman exists as the spirit and foundation of HK’s work. 

“Heidi,” she said. “Classic, timeless, comfortable. She’s so comfortable in the world and is a force and so much fun to be with. I adore her. She’s also a badass.”

As a girl, Heidi spent slow hours on her family’s Apison farm caring for rabbits, chickens, and a horse named Sweet Sue. Her first designs? Rabbit hutches. A barn for Sweet Sue. I want to work with animals, she told folks. I want to be a vet.

Her world changed at 11. On a trip to Switzerland, she visited her great aunt, and learned about her great uncle, a Zurich architect. She stayed in a house he built, ate at restaurants that he designed, and visited the architecture school where he lectured. Over slow walks through the city streets, they’d stop to marvel at buildings and spaces, all designed with care and intention. Heidi was in awe. 

Something internal shifted, caught fire, grew brighter. Heidi said,

I want to be an architect.

Craig grew up in a 1950s suburb west of Chicago. His father and grandfather were both general contractors; he knew at an early age: I want to be an architect. 

As a teenager, he would walk the neighborhood streets, searching for homes designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. 

In college, he studied in France; after graduation, he noticed a Skidmore, Owings & Merrill ad recruiting French-speaking architects. 

He applied, presenting his drawings in French. Days later, he took the job. This led to projects in Algeria, Singapore and the Philippines. “I was 23,” he said. 

Over the years, Craig’s career took him to the Philippines, where he helped transform the Manilla skylines with stunning architecture, including the Asian Development Bank, a 1.2 million-square-foot complex that cost $1 billion in 1990. 

“That building transformed the construction industry of the Philippines,” he said. “It created a whole new industry and a way of building evolved out of that and I wanted to emulate it.”

Early in his career, he settled into his signature style.

In 2014, HK welcomed Nick Messerlain to the firm. Well, sort of.

“They were not hiring,” he laughed. 

It was, in Nick’s words, a “mediocre interview.” Coming from Axis Mundi in New York, where he’d lent a hand with marketing, Nick had skills HK needed. 

“Music, rubber band guns, pranking,” he said. “I have a wide footprint. We started having fun. People noticed. I felt like a small member had a big impact on the office.”

HK needed help with interior design. They searched for someone in the firm with the right skills. Who could lead our Interior Design Studio? Turns out, it was Nick.

Recently, Alex has shifted to multifamily design, with over 1000 units – from modernizing Patten Towers to Mill Town – built in the city and nearby neighborhoods.

“Multi-family has helped me become a better architect,” he said. “I started to learn what drives my clients. When somebody brings $10 million into our community, the more you can speak their language and understand what they care about, the more design freedom you have.”