Small scale, bigger impact

CR: The question of location often reflects broader shifts in how young practices are positioning themselves today. We see a clear trend in our generation: having a base in Paris and another in a very rural area. The “in-between”—architects fully based in rural areas—is less common. Many of our friends or other firms are going back to their roots while keeping a foothold in Paris.

I think it’s partly because we are “young”. We have to follow opportunities, and Paris offers many, but these are usually better suited for bigger firms. For our generation, there’s an appetite for smaller, almost artisanal projects. Often located in rural or peripheral areas, these projects are typically initiated by public institutions—and as small practices of just one or two people, we’re well-positioned to respond to them. It’s a way to enter the public architecture scene. This shift works at the beginning of a practice, but when you grow, it becomes harder to keep responding to these small commissions because they represent a significant commitment of time and resources, for disproportionately modest fees.

Our generation—we call it the “climate generation”—we’re less keen on big projects because it feels like a shame now to build large new structures. We want to focus more on small-scale interventions, such as rehabilitations or extensions, working with what already exists and needs upgrading, rather than building large, new projects.

AC: For the best, I think it’s a real shift. In France, it’s difficult to see ourselves as big companies because that’s not the reality of architecture here. In our case, I’m not sure if we even want to become a large firm—but the reality of architecture in France points toward staying small, with growth usually rarely exceeding 15 people. Larger offices with 50 or more employees are no longer a sustainable model. Huge projects with massive footprints are kind of a thing of the past. However, transformation projects and renovations are where architects are really needed, and these require a lot of intelligence. 

Our general assumption is that to deliver precise, high-quality work, we have to choose smaller projects—simply because we don’t have the resources to achieve the same level of excellence on larger ones. Smaller agencies can truly stand out by focusing their energy and expertise where it matters most.

A decade in the making

AC: I met Claire at architecture school in Lyon during our graduation year and decided to do our final project together because we were working on similar research. We quickly realised we had a really complementary in skills and vision. 

CR: We have really different personalities and ways of viewing the world in a broad sense, and I think that’s why it works well between us: We combine our complementary expertise to deliver a strong project. We also knew we could work efficiently together. Then we moved to Paris. After the diploma, I worked in Lyon for a big firm on the transformation of a large heritage project. 

AC: As for me, before moving to Paris, I completed a double degree—as I'm also trained as an engineer—and worked for a timber engineering company. I then moved to Paris for my first job as an architect. One or two years later, Claire joined me. We had already talked about having our own office one day, but we thought we weren’t ready. We wanted experience, to understand the profession, and how to develop projects.

CR: We worked for about ten years before deciding to take the leap. That was in 2019, but then COVID hit, so we chose to postpone everything for a year and used that time for research, writing articles, and reflection. We had already decided to start the practice—it was just a matter of timing. We contributed to journals and took the opportunity to think deeply about what we wanted to do and why, laying the foundation for our story. Right after COVID, we founded rerum.

AC: Like many other agencies in France, we got our start thanks to support from our previous offices. I was working on a major project in Paris and managed to negotiate retaining responsibility for part of the building’s management and construction. It was a collaboration with Studio Gang—a competition for a large housing project in Paris: a 10-storey building on a challenging site adjacent to train lines, making it both technically complex and environmentally sensitive. The project was a great opportunity and experience, and provided financial stability.

CR: The first year, since we didn’t have many projects, we tried to work on some open competitions alongside my previous employment. We used this time to take part in the Europan competition, which we went on to win. Europan is tricky because it doesn’t always lead to built projects. But we were lucky and won the site in Quimper with our proposal Dour, Koad, Ker. Competitions like Europan are valuable opportunities, as they foster encounters with a wider ecosystem of agencies and actors in architecture and urban planning, all working towards a common goal: the city of tomorrow. However, they do not necessarily lead to follow-up commissions or to a realised project.

Research, context, and instinct

CR: The name rerum came from our diploma project. It comes from a poem by the Roman poet and philosopher Lucrèce and the Latin phrase De Rerum Natura, meaning “The Nature of Things.” It was the jumping-off point for diploma work, and because it made sense to us, we kept the name.

AC: Our diploma project remains a solid foundation for our approach. It involved reflecting on how to transform suburban areas through thoughtful densification, with a strong sensitivity to the surrounding context. Much of our work focused on understanding both the natural environment and the human factors of a site near Genève. We worked in a valley with a strong history but also great natural amenities. The mountains have a strong presence—the Vallée de l'Arve runs from Chamonix and the glaciers to Genève. We really observed the movements of nature: the river, the seasons, cycles. One of our strongest commitments was the belief that suburban urbanisation had lost its connection to architecture and context. This insight was crucial then and remains a guiding principle for us today.

CR: Now, that method is part of how we work. We always begin projects with open inquiry or research to reveal the presence and forces of the site. It involves gathering data, and since we also focus on visually and graphically designing that data, it becomes the start of all our projects. Through data, we create visualisations that inform both us and the project, embracing it as an open-ended process.

AC: At some point, the research translates into design—something emerges, and that becomes the basis of the project. The broader the research, the more chances you have to find something interesting. We began applying this approach to urbanism projects through Europan and continue to work in that field, but we also use it for smaller-scale projects like apartment renovations. Although the scale differs, we strive to maintain the same approach even in these smaller interventions.

CR: The starting point is open research, therefore broad in scope. We may explore historical or heritage architecture, as well as the climate and social aspects of the area. For example, for a small flat in Le Marais (Paris) the project started from an old medieval map showing the building from a different perspective—before the invention of modern views. That historical research sparked our imagination, so the process can be quite spontaneous. While we ground our work in scientific methods—using maps and data—what ultimately emerges is instinctive.

Designing with curiosity

CR: We are naturally curious and always explore the potential in every project. Although small flats aren’t typically our main focus, we’re happy to take them on when the project or client sparks our interest. When we founded rerum, our focus was primarily on architectural and urban design. However, we have since expanded our work to include furniture design and other design projects. We like weirdness, and we like to ground our work in a theoretical field. We read a lot and write articles. In every project, we want to find something a little weird or interesting, something to engage with.

AC: Sometimes people ask us what we are: a practice, an office, or even a workshop? My answer is that we see ourselves as a laboratory of urban transformations. We have something to say and to contribute whenever there is a subject of change—especially when it involves the transformation of uses. Because our expertise spans both urbanism and architecture, our projects take on a hybrid nature. Architects design housing, urbanists design the surrounding area, but the in-between—this part of the building that isn’t exactly the private home but is a kind of private city interface—is where we are useful.

Humble by Design

AC: We’re currently working with landscape designers to transform all the entries of a neighbourhood in the northwest area of Paris. It’s a neighbourhood with social problems like violence and building degradation. We had to consider what kind of approach would endure—not just something sturdy, but an intervention aimed at restoring meaning, enhancing the quality of dwelling, and bringing beauty back to a neglected space.

CR: We came into this project after several waves of renovation focused heavily on security, so the area became a fence between fences between fences. As architects, we see ourselves as having a political and social role. Our goal was to reopen dialogue and act as mediators for clients, helping to reconnect inhabitants with the intrinsic quality of their dwellings. We had to advocate for putting wood and beautiful elements in this context to reintegrate architectural quality and undo the damage.

AC: Part of our work was looking at the original building plans, where we discovered that many amenities disappeared over the course of renovations. This is both a strategic approach and a design solution. For example, there was a significant issue with bikes being locked to fences everywhere—on balconies, fences, and throughout the area. We proposed creating dedicated bike rooms for residents to address this. In terms of design, it’s mostly about the facade. The design tries to shift the perception of the people and the architecture, because the building is well-built and interesting. We want to step back and bring quality back to this kind of social housing.

CR: This is a collaborative project: us, a landscape architect, and an engineer. It’s a public commission for social housing. In France, when a neighbourhood is identified as socially problematic or unsafe, there is a special program called ANRU (Agence Nationale pour la Rénovation Urbaine). This site is in an ANRU zone, and prior to us, there were five years of research and a public participation commission. They organised social meetings inside the building and worked with inhabitants on the transformation. The brief included conclusions from that prior work, which we consulted—though they appeared not to have been considered much beforehand. So we started just by observing what was already there and the work done by social workers and many others before us.

AC: We always take time to understand what’s been done and use that as the first step in our own work. I think that applies here, but also in other situations.

CR: It’s not really about a design posture—it’s more about an intention, a way of doing things. I wouldn’t call it political exactly, because it’s really about what will happen in the end, but it’s about how you want to do it more than how you want it to look.

AC: To be conscious of what you’re doing, what resources you’re using, and the impact on the population. The goal is not to impose your style or design, but to understand what exists, what’s precious in the situation, and what needs to be preserved. Maybe you add something of your own, but that’s not the main point. It’s about acting with an understanding of the context. This leads to a strong design posture, but it comes after this understanding, not before it.

Laboratory in action

CR: We have also expanded into education projects. It began with a small intervention at a school in Paris, and thanks to that experience, we have since taken on more work in this area. Currently, we are involved in three school transformation projects in Paris. We’re also working on a school in Sannois, in the Paris urban area. It’s a modular construction — a temporary school — because all the schools in this area need energetic renovations. There will be many construction sites and innovations in existing schools, so they needed a building to temporarily house classes. It has to be there for less than 10 years, but also built strongly, with 11 classrooms planned. The goal is to be able to reuse it piece by piece elsewhere, which is both interesting and challenging.

On the roof of a middle school in Paris, we are creating an educational farm that unites production and pedagogy: a place where cultivation meets learning. The project introduces two new greenhouses to support the existing rooftop farm, which until now had no dedicated structures. Beyond providing facilities, this intervention seeks to offer a new model of urban agriculture—one that combines nourishment, knowledge, and the beauty of a shared environment. It’s organised by Veni Verdi, which does urban rooftop farming and sells vegetables at the Paris market. It’s a small-scale farm, but combined with an educational program to teach kids about gardening.

This aligns with our vision of a laboratory of transformation— and within a dense urban fabric, it brings together multiple ambitions under one roof. Such projects reflect a broader demand for adaptable, multifunctional spaces that address both educational and ecological needs in dense urban contexts—an area in which our agency is now actively engaged.