Cross-cultural connections

NZ: For the last 15 years or so, Switzerland has felt like a safe haven for architects. Architects and practitioners applying to join our organisation (which I intentionally don’t call an office) are drawn to this place. Interestingly, though, what we also observed from within Switzerland is that over the past 15–20 years, there has been an incredible shift in culture. Many young architects started going abroad—whether for education or simply out of curiosity—and returning with a different mindset. Instead of just attracting foreign talent, the local community is also becoming more demanding, evolving from this exchange.

Before, there was a culture of interning locally, staying in place, and eventually starting a practice under your own name. We know how that tradition played out. But this broader exploration, engaging with other geographies and cultures, has created relationships beyond borders. We saw it while teaching, we see it with young architects, and we see it now with our colleagues. It feels irreversible—even crises haven’t disrupted the sense that we’re all practising in a broader context.

For us, it was also about opportunity. In 2014–2015, we saw a chance to work elsewhere, and that brought us together. Being ‘elsewhere’ became one of our interests and a stable factor in our practice. 

LB: Speaking about going abroad, I think it also made it easier for us to test ideas. Changing the environment you work in teaches you a lot—things operate differently, and you adjust. The mechanisms, the challenges, and even the objects you interact with are different. And, of course, we brought those lessons back home.

JZ: When we do projects abroad, it’s often a new experience. The Swiss approach might be to thoroughly analyse conditions first—building laws, regulations, and so on. Elsewhere, however, we’ve found those factors are sometimes less rigid. That shift in approach, even at the starting point of a project, is something we’ve brought back with us. It influences how we think about the future of projects here, too.

An ever-evolving structure

NJ: We’re TEN—but not just 10 people. The number doesn’t really correspond in that sense, it represents other values. What’s significant is the idea of coming together, something we crafted nearly a decade ago and keep evolving. Those ten years have been critical. Back then, we noticed that many people seemed to struggle with connection, with forming meaningful collaborations. So, we began coming together around shared knowledge, interests, and diverse backgrounds, including both our origins and education.

Eventually, we established two physical spaces: one in Belgrade and one in Zurich. These spaces allowed us to build a collaborative practice that spans design, research, execution, and inquiry. To this day, every new project feels like a fresh start. The group dedicated to each project often comes together for the first time. For me personally, that’s one of the most exciting aspects. When a new project begins, it’s like meeting your collaborators for the first time, learning about each other, and starting from scratch. There is a feeling of excitement. While there’s a history of team constellations, it feels like we are constantly re-forming. Each project brings a new dynamic—a fresh formation—and that’s something I deeply value. 

LB: It all started with our first conversation in 2014, and we officially founded the practice in 2015. The legal structure was that of an association—verein in German—which comes with certain statutes and operates as a non-profit. This structure reflected who we were at the time: a group focused on academic pursuits—writing, drawing, teaching, and making smaller interventions in public space. Back then, it was more of a part-time endeavour; everyone involved had another, or perhaps primary, source of income. Yet it was dynamic, evolving through a wide variety of projects and gradually shifting toward more complex work.

In 2019, we had a pivotal meeting—a retreat—where we established a second entity. This new entity was envisioned as a smaller, agile ‘studio’ with a narrower focus, designed to handle more immediate architectural projects and competitions. We saw it as complementing the association, which continues to operate at a broader scale and different speed. This dual structure allowed us to clarify our direction and purpose. In 2023, we formed a third entity—a shareholder company. This was established to tackle larger, more complex projects, particularly those requiring a long timeline.

Currently, we have these three entities, each with distinct rights and responsibilities for our members. Over time, we’ve developed a framework to better define their roles, sharpen their focus, and allow for evolution as we move into this latest chapter.

JZ: We’ve come to realise that these entities don’t function as isolated units. Their boundaries are fluid, which is something we find quite interesting. It allows certain projects to begin in one area—perhaps as research within the association—and eventually grow into something more tangible, handled by the studio or the shareholder company. This fluidity also lets people work across different entities, adapting to the needs of specific projects.

LB: The largest entity is still the association, which we’ve recently rebranded as the ‘institute’. It focuses on research and operates with the fewest constraints, making it the most open and exploratory of the three. The studio, by contrast, is project-driven and time-limited. It handles competitions, small building projects, or other focused tasks requiring an intense, shorter-term commitment. The shareholder company, on the other hand, takes on the greatest risks. It’s designed for long-term, large-scale projects—ones with timelines of several years. Legally, it’s structured to support these kinds of endeavours.

NZ: These structures allow for different dynamics depending on levels of involvement—be it employment, interest, or presence. You don’t have to work within all the entities or constantly engage with them.

Constitutive values

LB: In the initial phase, we worked on a series of shared values—almost like a constitution for us. Many of these values are deeply ingrained in our subconscious and have since become integral to our working culture. An occasion like today, where we bring them into focus, helps us see which ones have emerged recently in our discussions. I still believe all of them are relevant, but this process also highlights where we may have missed something—like designing through drawings, for example.

One value that stands out is reuse—even if we don’t explicitly call it that. This ties into the idea of temporality or working with temporalities and has been a significant focus in our recent projects—both competitions and built work—explored from various angles. On the one hand, it’s about material use and durability—creating structures that endure over time while remaining flexible in their use. On the other hand, it’s about the material itself: its origin, lifecycle, and environmental impact. 

JZ: I think a related value we’ve touched on before is the idea of constructing with simple means. This originated when TEN was building things with basic tools—welding sub-cabinets, assembling stages, and so on. Now, even as we tackle larger, more complex projects involving many experts, it’s a value that remains important. In a way, simplicity becomes a litmus test for a project’s direction. It’s not just about efficiency or ease; simplicity often aligns with sustainability. Asking, ‘How can we do this in the simplest way possible?’ is a helpful question that applies across all scales, from design to organisational structure. In the face of complexity, this approach helps refocus our efforts and reminds us of the core intent.

NZ: And it’s almost the only way we can work, right? Otherwise, with so many people involved and such diversity in our group, we’d risk losing coherence. Simplicity—making things constructible, readable, and usable for anyone—is critical. For me, designing something simple means it should communicate clearly, almost like a universal language. Anyone should be able to pick it up and understand it. This ties back to temporality, too. Some of our projects are inherently temporary. We start them knowing they won’t last long, but that doesn’t diminish their value. Even in discussions about buildings meant to last for centuries, there’s a recognition that some elements are temporary and must be constructed simply. That’s where we focus our energies: making things adaptable, clear, and meaningful in their temporality.

TEN: A project in and of itself

NZ: We talk about flat structures and shared roles, but we’ve realised that the moment you start labelling these concepts, you risk losing their essence. Instead, our focus is on finding ways to work together organically, shaping the path along the way rather than defining it in advance. Ultimately, that’s what we engage with daily: projects. Everything else—our structure, our culture—is a project in itself.

LB: I think it’s an iterative process—something that recurs regularly. These moments of reflection and redefinition happen every few years. And we allow ourselves to fail. That’s essential for evolution, not just for us but any office or structure. You must see what happens, where you’re going, and adapt accordingly. For us, this process feels even more significant. I wouldn’t say we’re at a critical breaking point, but ideally, we don’t wait for a crisis to react. Instead, we try to evaluate constantly—what’s happened, what we need, and what needs figuring out. Personally, one of my biggest motivations is that this is an experiment with an unknown outcome. That uncertainty is what makes it worth investing in.

CW: There’s no textbook for this. The constant involvement in evolving the structure happens through conversations—daily projects, larger projects, the entire spectrum. There’s no roadmap where you plan for change in two years or set specific milestones. Sometimes it happens spontaneously. Someone might have an idea over dinner, share it the next day, and spark a discussion. It’s not about marking anniversaries—like ten years since we started or one year since we established the shareholder company—but about recognising moments when we collectively decide to reflect and share on a broader level.

NZ: That’s exactly right—it happens every day. Challenges aren’t planned; they come up when someone in the group brings a problem, fear, or dilemma. These moments of engagement aren’t strategically scheduled—they happen spontaneously. And because we’re committed to transparency, we confront these challenges openly.

It’s not about hiding issues but continuously pushing toward openness and engaging dynamically with the problems we face. That’s why we don’t have a manual. We’ve thought about creating one, but maybe there’s a reason we haven’t—it’s because we’re constantly finding ways to discuss and address what’s ahead. What’s fascinating is that the smallest or biggest dilemmas aren’t ignored; they’re addressed directly. This isn’t about succeeding or failing—it’s about discovery. Through this process, we find meaning, both in what works and what doesn’t.

We don’t operate with fixed agendas—no five-year or ten-year personal plans. This flexibility allows people to step back when needed or re-engage when ready. Some members may drift in and out, occasionally contributing to designs or ideas while pursuing entirely different paths. That’s the real value: allowing different dynamics to coexist. As things become more complex, those dynamics often work better because expectations shift and adapt. 

LB: In our understanding, TEN is a project in itself. We don’t differentiate much between our structure and the building—it’s all given the same space, importance, and experimental approach. This perspective shapes how we place and relate to these elements. As Nemanja mentioned, we are open to where it can go, but we constantly fight to ensure it has enough space to grow.

Cultivating a collective vision

NZ: To design a structure, we currently use a system called ‘initiatives’. Any member of TEN can propose an initiative, which must be formulated simply. We organise initiatives under four pillars: care, govern, evolve, and finance. If no one strongly objects to a proposal, it moves forwards—it doesn’t require unanimous agreement. This applies to design decisions as well. For example, if we receive a project invitation, even from a state or public institution, and something feels off, we discuss it. It’s not about a 51% majority vote but about a group alignment or a shared direction. 

We also take on self-initiated projects, creating something from nothing purely out of interest. These projects define us as much as the commissioned ones. Decision-making remains organic and grounded in structure, values, and individual interests. It allows members to develop their own content and projects while engaging with the group dynamically.  

JZ: This collaborative approach is like curating. You gauge a project’s potential and involve the right experts to elevate it. Often, this means letting others take the lead, trusting their expertise, and allowing fresh input to shape the outcome. The result isn’t about style or a common language—it’s about pushing the project further with diverse contributions. That’s what unites TEN’s projects: a shared openness and collaborative spirit that allows for individuality while fostering collective growth and design outcomes.