Architecture in transition

ER: In my opinion, young architects are asking themselves some common questions, driven by an awareness of the various crises we are facing: climatic, environmental, social, and economic. These questions can be broken down into several areas.

First there’s the issue of working with existing structures—prioritising renovation over new construction, considering how we treat the ground we build on, and more broadly, though I’ll elaborate on this later: what do we do with the heritage we inherit? 

Another common topic that unites the new generation of architects is collaboration, particularly with local communities. How do we value dialogue and collaboration between practices? How do we ensure that programs reflect new uses and address shared spaces and the redistribution of resources? 

This focus on community engagement—architects working collaboratively with inhabitants, ensuring they contribute ideas to projects, challenges traditional design methods. Should drawings remain fixed, or can they evolve through community input? Can conceptual architecture be co-produced? These ideas challenge past approaches.

At the scale of construction and materials, how do we implement methods for reusing existing materials—repurposing them? How do we develop local supply chains? In other words, how do we think about “situated” architecture?

There is also a renewed interest in materiality and construction techniques, in two directions that are highly connected . How do we implement methods for reusing existing materials—repurposing them? There's a desire to reinvent construction methods and build in ways that are specific to their location, particularly pre-industrial methods like rammed earth, which is locally sourced and sustainable. In other words, how do we think about “situated” architecture? 

This idea—architecture that is deeply connected to its surroundings—was not something I was taught in school, but it has become increasingly significant. There's now a push to develop local materials and supply chains and to rethink how architecture engages with its environment. I’ve noticed a paradigm shift, particularly among postgraduate students. This shift is driven by climate change and current crises. The processes of repair and reuse are fostering a new architectural discipline. If architects prioritise working with existing structures instead of building anew, what is their role? This is a major shift, and students are critically questioning the architect’s responsibility toward the built environment and its impact on the planet. Some argue we should only work within existing buildings rather than create new ones. It’s a tricky debate, and the questions are difficult to answer.

Bridging disciplines through collaboration

ER: I strongly value a multidisciplinary approach and collaboration. My interest in this began when I worked in Los Angeles, which was a pivotal moment in my life. Now, in my practice, Room, I pursue a multifaceted practice relying on different experts structured around A/ architectural project work, B/ a more theoretical approach that constantly questions norms and our body of references, and C/ teaching. 

I teach at École Spéciale d'Architecture, where I lead a master’s studio focused on the reuse of a metropolitan building type—neglected tower blocks facing the periphery of Paris. I ask students to develop a vocabulary for the reuse of these buildings. What do we do with structures that are often overlooked or undervalued? How do we transform inherited buildings? 

I also teach at ENSA (École Nationale Supérieure d'Architecture) Paris-Est. Since 2020, I’ve been involved in a postgraduate program called Architecture Post-Carbone , which focuses on environmental issues. In 2024, I curated a lecture series called Monstrum, inviting students to critically question norms and explore the blurred boundaries between 'monsters' and 'wonders'. It's about confronting architectures that have been criticised or seen as disruptive, and finding ways to reintegrate and even embrace them within our discipline. 

It is a chance to reflect on how to integrate them into our architectural corpus, what acceptance rituals to propose to re-engage bodies with them, how to intervene to repair and enhance architecture, and how to embrace our own monstrousness in a way. Throughout this cycle, it seems important to reconsider what monsters can teach us, by studying their impacts on the city and architecture, observing certain reparative practices, symbolic displacements, and thinking of architectural intervention as a prosthesis on a body undergoing transformation. Collaboration is fundamental for me, both in the academic and the professional fields. At ENSA Paris-Est, I collaborate with Jacques-Marie Ligot. In my office, I primarily join forces with Le Lab Architecture on projects, mostly housing. Our major current activity is a house and office building in central Paris, within a typical Haussmann lot. The lot was never fully built due to financial issues at the time, but the foundations were prepared for construction. We secured the permit, and construction will begin this year. Our approach has been to draw upon the 'ghost' of the unbuilt structure while considering contemporary material concerns and the site's historical context. Every aspect—including the construction process itself—is part of the project. 

Building new vocabularies

ER: I believe in encouraging students to question the norms we were taught—especially when building within existing structures. There is a certain vocabulary we learn that defines what is considered old and patrimonial and what is not. Today, we can question what is patrimonial. When we talk about reuse rather than new construction, we need to explore a vocabulary that defines an expression of reuse-driven architecture—one that reveals what local architecture is. When you renovate a farm in the countryside, vocabulary is easier: old wood, old stone, the ground’s texture. But in cities and dense urban environments, defining this vocabulary becomes much more complex.

One question is: “How do we teach students to quantify the reuse of materials?” For example, during my course at École Spéciale, my students were working on two towers. To support their learning, we organised a site visit, which proved essential. I asked them to draw, take pictures, write, and quantify what is already there and what could be reused. This step is necessary for any reuse or renovation project. However, I don’t see a methodology in schools that teaches students how to deal with this issue effectively. A fundamental step is diagnostics: drawing the building perfectly, identifying what can be used, reused, transformed, and redefined. Reuse isn’t just about materials—it’s also about function. For example, transforming an office building into housing. But how do we approach that? It’s also important to question what has value and what doesn’t. Understanding the existing condition is crucial because it forms the foundation of every project. Knowing the site where a project will take place is essential. 

Another central aspect related to this topic is project timelines. I believe we need to shift focus and allocate more time to the building phase, including demolition and construction. Renovation includes a demolition phase, and that’s when we truly understand what works and what doesn’t. For example, we worked on a very old house in the countryside west of Paris. We made beautiful drawings, obtained permits, and convinced the client with a precise budget. But then came the demolition phase. Once we stripped away the paint and opened up the structure, we discovered that the structural integrity was compromised, requiring a complete redesign.

We had to adapt—changing parts of the floor while simplifying details to balance costs. This led to sourcing local materials, which was ultimately beneficial. For example, we demolished walls made of old stone and reused that stone to build an outdoor wall for landscaping. However, we couldn’t have anticipated the quality of the stone before opening the wall, nor that the entire floor would need replacing. This highlights the need for more flexibility in contracts and processes, allowing more emphasis on the construction phase rather than the initial drawings.

Question the norms 

ER: Another crucial point is allowing strangeness into architectural norms. We should recognise beauty in what initially seems strange. Some buildings or details may not appear beautiful at first, but they exist for a reason. Understanding their history and preserving them can enhance our architectural approach. The lecture series I have been involved in recently, Monstrum, has been one of my main focuses in the past few months—a critical exploration of architectural norms and how we perceive buildings that are often overlooked. It’s about breaking away from the idea of architecture as something entirely controlled and standardised. We want to guide students toward critically questioning architectural norms.

It’s also about the relationship between bodies and space. The monster is a figure—it has a body. Our focus is on reparative practices, encouraging students to view architectural interventions as prostheses for buildings in transformation. Just as carpentry repairs prolong a structure’s life, architecture itself can evolve rather than remain a fixed product. In this way, we engage with buildings as bodies that change over time. What rituals can be proposed to re-engage bodies with these unfamiliar buildings? We invited a diverse range of speakers who open up discussions on architecture as a body under transformation.

For example, we had an anthropologist, Grégory Delaplace (2015 Bronze Medal of CNRS Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique) talking about haunted houses—not to argue for the existence of ghosts, but to discuss how societies create spaces that accommodate the unexpected and uncontrolled. These uncontrolled spaces can be called monsters or ghosts. Similarly, public areas in 1960s mass housing developments, intended for communal life, became places of social unrest. Meanwhile, corridors in old-age homes become spaces of gathering and interaction. Some Japanese houses even have rooms dedicated to ghosts—spaces deliberately left for the unknown. We also invited an editor, Lydia Amarouche, who researches colonial-era buildings—once celebrated but now seen as problematic. A professor from EPFL, Sarah Nichols,  spoke about the difficulty of repairing concrete, a material once seen as a modern wonder but now a challenge to maintain. Concrete embodies both architectural marvels and deteriorating structures that we struggle to repurpose. Additionally, we invited a carpenter, Loïc Desmonts, working on the Notre Dame renovation. He discussed how structures can be built to last longer, emphasising care and maintenance. His work highlights how architecture can evolve—not as a static product but as an ongoing transformation. In this sense, architecture becomes a prosthesis for buildings in transition.

In Paris, I draw from these ideas—not in a literal sense, like ghosts—but in terms of how we build within pre-existing environments. What space do we allocate for what already exists? How do we care for the people and communities that are already there? These considerations, rooted in geography and history, deeply influence my practice. The same applies to the house renovation in the countryside: how do we embrace strangeness? Why reuse the stone from an interior wall to build something outside? The house, like a living organism, is transforming—it’s deteriorating, evolving, and adapting to new uses. Originally, a single family lived here, but now, with an extended family structure, we’re dividing the space while enlarging common areas. It’s a process of respectful transformation. In this way, the lecture series and teaching directly inform my architectural practice.

The essential role of unions

ER: Additionally, I engage in activist work as the secretary general of a professional Syndicate (also called Union). This allows me to understand architecture on a political level and contribute to shaping decisions that affect our profession. 

There are two types of unions: one for employers and one for employees. In France, this system is known as Dialogue Paritaire, where multiple unions represent different interests—both employers and employees. These groups vote on key issues affecting the profession

As the leader of my office, I am part of an employers union representing architects, called le Syndicat de l’Architecture. Its role is significant—for example, unions collectively decide on minimum salaries. If you’re unaware of this, you’re missing a crucial part of the profession. It’s not negotiated by an external body; it’s a decision made by unions, who draft the official guidelines that architecture firms must follow.

Another important aspect is advocating for the value of architectural work in society. This is something I personally care about. Many architects feel that our profession is undervalued—not necessarily disrespected, but often misunderstood. People don’t always grasp why architects are essential or what architecture contributes. Being part of a union means actively working to enhance public recognition and appreciation of architecture. 

Of course there is the Board of Architects which to the State represents the profession; but to the profession itself, the Board’s main role is to ensure a certain level of internal discipline. In contrast, the Unions defends architects and their rights within the profession.

As practitioners, we have to take an active role in advocating for our profession.