A generational renewal

SW: It’s fascinating that while the number of architecture offices is increasing, the number of architectural workers is barely changing. I think the shift from a few large-scale offices to a growing number of small offices is significant. Given the challenges we face in the field, having a diversity of independent thinkers is essential. It brings fresh perspectives to how practices operate and approach complex issues, which I really appreciate. This trend might be connected to the relatively low barrier to becoming self-employed in Switzerland, which is great from my perspective. It’s interesting because Switzerland traditionally values job security, so seeing this rise in independent practices feels like a culture shift.

It’s also notable that many offices are being founded very early in architects’ careers. This trend moves the focus away from years of experience and toward innovative strategies for addressing current challenges. At universities, we have reached a point where a discussion, no matter where it starts, eventually circles back to big questions around sustainability and social values. This shift in focus is clear not only in the content architects engage with but also in how they question traditional office structures and working conditions.

And that happened quickly. When I graduated, the landscape was different; it was an exciting yet uncertain time, with the field still dominated by star architects. Many people pursued positions in those large firms for their CVs. I remember feeling somewhat lost, unsure if I should apply to a big name like OMA or try to carve out a path that might contribute more directly to societal issues. Back then, starting an office immediately after graduation was rare, but now many young architects jump into their own practice right out of school or after a short stint in one or two smaller offices.

Education and evolution

SW: Things are evolving. A very concrete example, which starts at the university level but directly influences our practice, is that we no longer believe in linear processes. You can’t just draw a 1:1000 design and later figure out how the building will be constructed. This goes against how we must address topics like reuse, challenging briefs, or the privatisation of space. These things can only be addressed if we work toward a more integral process where concrete topics drive the projects, rather than following a traditional step-by-step approach with concepts, then scaling down to 1:200, 1:50, and so on. Instead, we must understand building as an integral process, in which even how two pieces are screwed together is as important as the big questions.

When I studied, we were the generation where both paths were possible. After studying at HSLU Lucerne, I went to the AA School in London, and during that time, there was a moment of change. AA was still very formalist in some parts of its approach to architecture, while other parts leaned more towards the original, political tradition of the school. It was interesting to come back to Switzerland and realise that at the time both realities were valid. On one hand, you could still aim to become the next highly recognised designer. On the other hand, you don’t have to build anything but still create a professional career. I think there’s a lot of work to be done to establish a strong foundation for our profession, and for society to value a field that thinks about the value of space. Space influences society, and society shapes space—it determines the structures of our everyday lives. This no longer means building the most fancy house; it can be a more informal profession. Surely there is foundational research to be done at universities, but at the same time, I want to elaborate and establish this dual role through my office. We need to build examples, which is one of architecture’s greatest strengths—creating projects. Whether those projects are built or not is another matter, but creating examples is essential. Once something is done, it’s real, and it shows that it can be done.

We can talk endlessly about values, but if grading at architecture schools is still connected with easily digestible and nice projects, we continue affirming the idea of competition and service provision. It’s important that from the very beginning of architectural education, it becomes clear that we are not merely the experts at creating layouts or making attractive images at the end of the design process. We can be experts in understanding what kind of spaces are actually needed—by clients, by cities—and challenging briefs. Ideally, we should be writing the briefs ourselves.

This directly connects to how we work in this office, where we always start a project by challenging what people order or what clients write in their briefs. Since we don’t have a network where commissions come through family connections but instead come from people who’ve heard about our expertise, they arrive with certain expectations. After four years, the best achievement has been that we help clients figure out what they actually need. By now, they understand that this is perhaps our most valuable contribution—to help them order the right thing. In this way, architecture can imply very crucial in ongoing transformations. Through this, we become highly valued experts who navigate projects again, instead of designers acting within defined budgets.

Brave decisions 

SW: Making brave or optimistic decisions is crucial to our methodology and way of working. Today, with all the external influences and requirements for what architecture must fulfil, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to find room to manoeuvre within a project and adapt your concept in strong ways to what is requested. The idea of ‘brave’ decisions is something that helps our process, with all the rules, regulations, and obligations to save on resources, there’s a shrinking belief that architecture can be strong. The principle focus lies on rational architecture, which is good because we are in a crisis, but we believe it’s important to always practise optimistic rationalism—not use it as a shortcut to meet short-term goals that we will later regret.

What we mean by optimistic rationalism is figuring out, within very concrete restrictions, the space to manoeuvre the small irrational things that make places great. It’s about finding moments within the configuration of space, or the way people will use the space, that will create something far beyond what the client needs or expects. In this sense, ‘optimistic rationalism’ can be a method for understanding and respecting all the relevant parameters and how the project will become a reality. It’s about taking a step back and asking what we can create with the project that nobody asked for—this is where things get interesting. Architecture can be a very strong means for improvement, in times of limited resources, when hope within the architecture community and among potential clients is small, and money is tight. It’s about creating something extra, something additional, something relevant.

Without brave decisions, architecture isn’t possible. This is what we aim to highlight when we discuss overarching goals with clients or partners: we need to take the climate crisis and the transformation towards a more open and just society seriously, things that maybe some older or more conservative  practices don’t understand as influences on our profession. But in the end, they are ultimately linked to the spaces we use every day, no matter if we consider them parameters for design strategies or not. Architecture as a service is often slated to be reactive. It’s one of the core dilemmas of the profession, and we have to fight it. The value of architecture comes from bringing everything together to create the unexpected, which is much more than simply checking all the boxes on the ever-growing list of requirements.

The politics of construction

SW: From the very beginning, it seemed crucial to me to bring together two things: the big questions I have as a political human being, as part of society, and on the other hand, the very concrete question of how a house is built. These things are connected. In the beginning, the work was more experimental, but still, it led to a certain aesthetic and certain principles we continue to build upon.

What has evolved in the practice is the understanding that the process might be more important than the result. We need to work closely with the clients and craftsmen to create something where the way we build has a cultural or political dimension because that’s what I’m deeply interested in. Of course, there’s an aesthetic difference, but the bigger difference lies in whether we weld two pieces of metal or screw them together, because one is a statement of certainty in what we’re doing, while the other suggests a method of combining things to adapt or transform them later. This engineering approach to design—designing to dismantle, for example—has become a key part of our approach to architectural construction per se.

This has everything to do with the process, with what clients want today and what they might want in ten years, or with the current context and what it may become in the future. So, understanding a house not as a final state but as something that allows for adaptation, is something I wouldn't have formulated as a main goal eight years ago. While the overarching idea of connecting large questions with building houses has always been there, we’ve developed strategies to address this more directly. Now, this kind of decision carries a certain strength. I think it’s important because, otherwise, it would remain theoretical. The people who use the space understand this idea—that choosing to build something simple, like screwing two things together instead of making it complex, is not because we lack solutions, but because we choose to. And this creates a poetic, simple solution within the space. 

Reframing the brief

SW: The current discourse, with a focus on resources and adaptability, has shaped the way we approach competitions recently. xThis shift feels significant, and it’s been an investment in the near future. We’ve adapted to a process where we can offer alternatives, partly because we’re fortunate to have clients who trust us. We don’t need to win a competition right now to survive. This is a luxury we’ve achieved by doing projects that come from clients who go a different route. They may not hold open competitions but instead invite a few firms with a clear approach or profile. Often, they want to discuss strategies or hear an essay on how we’ll approach the project and I think that’s where our strength lies–in tailor-made processes–and that’s where, time and again, projects are born that are more radical and innovative than what the current competition system asks for.

This background helps us to stay brave in open competitions, offering ideas that stimulate discussion and position us well for the future, even if we have a small chance of winning. It’s like what Google calls ‘moonshots’—projects that have a very small chance of success but can be transformative. For us, it’s always been important not to limit ourselves to being service providers for something we aim to overcome. 

Unveiling the process

SW: We recently completed a transformation project in Zug, where many of these ideas came together in the design of a house. It all started with clients who bought a very old house, part of which dates back to mediaeval times—about 650 years old—and had been transformed 35 times over that period. They reached out to 20 architects to discuss how they would address the house, which shows how easy it is to make architects work, or at least think.

We had several online meetings with the clients-to-be and discussed from the very beginning that, although they had purchased a valuable old house, it is hidden behind layers of newer materials like white plaster from the 1980s. No one could see or estimate what they had actually bought. It was more of a private competition than a traditional one, without a lot of drawings but several stages of discussions. In the end, we submitted process diagrams and sketches about hypothetical construction approaches and connections—how can new precise materials interact with the old house?—while others submitted full plans and aesthetic promises. We won by explaining to the clients that no one could tell them how long the process would take or what it would cost, because they didn’t know what they had bought. But we assured them that we could design a process to dismantle the unnecessary surfaces, uncover what lay behind, and fully understand the house’s DNA. They understood that such a strategy would always lead to efficient, high-performing solutions.

The dismantling process lasted a year, during which we discovered that the house had a rich history of 35 transformations, including unique and locally specific construction techniques. We also found structural issues that could have led to catastrophes if not discovered early. Some parts of the house were basically at risk of collapse for quite a while, with its structural problems hidden behind plasterboard and carpets. Even though the project took three times longer than initially hoped, the clients felt secure because we were focused on understanding the house, not delivering early results. Other, perhaps more conservative architects, proposed interesting space ideas early on, but without understanding the house's structural issues, and these ideas would have rendered unfeasible in the middle of the realisation. The process was key in dealing with the project's unique complexities. We worked with a team of building physicists, two engineers, a timber specialist and many craftsmen, all of whom started analysing the quality of the materials early on. Together, we developed an approach where planning became a larger part of the budget, but what was actually built was simple and affordable. This also caught the attention of their banks, as one of their consultants remarked that ‘thinking is cheaper and more sustainable than building.’ This was a key insight we reached with the client and the team.

Looking to the future

SW: I think one important thing to note is the need to work towards a more ethical practice in architecture. Transparency is crucial—really discussing the economics of architectural practice, what it means to participate in a competition, and what it means to invest in the quality of the outcome. I believe the first step, without dismissing the need for further action, is establishing transparency, which was lacking when I first entered the profession about 10 years ago. This transparency is essential at all levels and phases of a project, both between the client and architect and between the architect and employees. By establishing this, we can create a foundation where responsibilities and opportunities can be shared more equitably.

One thing we’ve done, not as an individual but as a group of young architects in Zurich, is establish an open gathering, similar to the German Stammtisch. It’s called ‘Now What?/ What If?’. It is fluid and open and all spatial practitioners are invited to come together for discussions, workshops and actions. These gatherings foster transparent, fruitful conversations involving students, young professionals, and even those who already employ large teams. It’s a broad mix, with more than 50% non-Swiss architects living and working in Switzerland. We discuss what this all actually means, especially since the first step, for me, would be to reduce pressure and raise salaries for everyone—but that’s not immediately possible. It’s especially difficult if we want to continue doing what we consider ‘good architecture’. So, we first need to figure out how to get paid better in order to pay others better.

Transparency is necessary not only between clients and architects or architects and employees but also in promoting the value architecture creates for both—society, and for those who invest money in it. Architecture, or the building industry, is still one of the most secure ways to invest money, but we often fail to outline the actual value we create. This circle needs to be addressed within the industry and with all stakeholders of contemporary spatial production. It’s important to build an understanding between architects, material providers, developers, and financiers so we can better figure out how to work together. We must talk about processes, production limits, risk tolerance, and finding new models for creating strong architecture that accepts and deals with the contemporary condition—not as an act of appropriation but as an effort to design change.