Architecture in transition

ER: In my opinion, there are common questions that many young architects are asking themselves, 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 is the issue of working with existing structures—prioritising renovation over new construction, considering how we treat the ground we build on, and more broadly: what do we do with the built environment we inherit from the past? Another common topic that unites the new generation of architects is Collaboration. How do we value dialogue between practices, and also with the communities? How do we ensure that programs reflect new uses? Should drawings remain fixed, or can they evolve through community input? Can conceptual architecture be co-produced, co-imagined? These ideas challenge past approaches.

Then, at the scale of construction and materials, how do we implement methods for reusing existing materials—repurposing them? Here, the focus is on the economics of construction in the broadest sense—an approach that enables a situated practice: one that is attentive to available resources, local conditions of production, existing know-how, and the organisational models that make possible an architecture rooted in care, repair, and transformation. The processes of reuse are fostering a new architectural discipline. That was not something I was taught in school, but it has become increasingly significant. I’ve noticed a paradigm shift amongst my students, there's now a push to rethink how architecture engages with its environment.

If architects prioritise working with existing structures instead of building anew, what is their role? What if architecture wasn’t just about construction but also about care and repair? This inevitably sparks debate and may be perceived as unsettling by some within the profession. Yet, in my view, it is a necessary question to engage with, and one that students are right to approach critically, particularly when it comes to reflecting on the responsibilities of architects toward the built context and its impact on the planet.

Bridging disciplines through collaboration

ER: I strongly value a multidisciplinary approach and collaboration. Working in Los Angeles has been a pivotal moment in my life in this direction. At the time, I was collaborating with super talented friends from Kazakhstan, called The 2vvo, on the programming of an art gallery and on an academic publication at SCI-Arc offering ruminations on controversial zones between pain and comfort in architecture. Now, in my practice, Room, I pursue a multifaceted practice relying on different experts structured around architectural project work, and a more theoretical approach that constantly questions norms and our body of references. Collaboration is fundamental for me, both in the academic and the professional fields.

I teach at École Spéciale d'Architecture in Paris, where I led last year a master’s studio focused on the reuse of a metropolitan building type—neglected tower blocks facing the periphery of Paris. I asked 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 Paris-Est. Since 2020, I’ve been involved in a distinguished postgraduate program, now called Architecture des Limites Planétaires (Architecture of Planetary Boundaries) under the direction of Jean Souviron, focusing on architectural practice and research addressing ecological challenges. And over the past year, I co-curated at the same school a lecture series called Monstrum with Jacques-Marie Ligot, inviting students to critically question norms and explore the figure of the ‘monsters’ in architecture- its many faces and shifting forms.

In my practice today, a significant portion of my time is devoted to the Centre Pompidou 2030 project (Lead Architect: Moreau Kusunoki, Co-Designer: Frida Escobedo Studio), where I work as part of Frida Escobedo’s team mostly based in New York. This experience marks a turning point in my practice, not only given the sheer scale of the renovation project itself, but also because, within Frida Escobedo’s remarkable studio, it allows me to engage with the quality of a practice that embraces care in all its forms. From the care of the building to the care of people, including those who maintain it and make its long-term preservation possible, it reflects a deep attentiveness, in every sense.

I also joined forces with Brad Isnard & Chris Gassaway (New York), Faire and Le Lab Architecture on projects, predominantly housings in Paris and its surroundings. My main ongoing project is an addition to a small building in Paris, soon to begin construction, for a family looking to expand their space while remaining within the existing house. In collaboration with Le Lab Architecture (Lead Architect: Room, Co-Architect: Le Lab Architecture), during the design phase our approach, has been to intervene subtly within the house, weaving around it like a stitch, creating a wooden framework that both extends the structure and opens up new perspectives.

Building new vocabularies

ER: I believe in the importance of 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 studio at École Spéciale d’Architecture, the students were working on two abandoned towers. Access to the buildings was challenging, but organising a visit proved essential to support their learning. I asked them to draw, take pictures, write, and quantify what was already there and what could be reused. This step is necessary for any reuse or renovation project. However, it seems that a proper methodology to help students deal with this issue effectively is still insufficiently developed or shared within architectural education. A fundamental step is the survey of the building in order to document and encode its imperfections, identifying what can be 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. Sometimes imperfections are part of what we cherish. Understanding the existing condition is crucial because it forms the foundation of every project.

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, with Le Lab Architecture (Lead Architect for the entire project: Le Lab Architecture, Co-Architect for design phases and CA until end of structural work: Room) we worked on a very old house in the countryside West of Paris. We made a refined set of 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 significant 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 several 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: In my opinion, we must allow strangeness into architectural norms. We should recognise beauty in what initially seems bizarre. 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 with Jacques-Marie Ligot, 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.

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. What rituals can be proposed to re-engage bodies with them? We invited a diverse range of speakers to open up discussions on architecture from this perspective. And we are now preparing, in collaboration with ENSA Paris, a publication following this lecture series, scheduled for release in 2026.

For example, we invited an anthropologist, Grégory Delaplace (2015 Bronze Medal of CNRS - Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique) talking about haunted houses—not to argue specifically 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. Later, 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. She demonstrated how 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 de Paris renovation. He discussed how structures can be built to last longer, emphasising care and maintenance. His work highlights how, just as carpentry repairs prolong a structure’s life, architecture itself can evolve—not as a static product but as an ongoing transformation.

In Paris, I draw from these ideas in terms of how we build within pre-existing environments. What room do we allocate to 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 engaged during several years in activist work as the secretary general of a professional Syndicate (also called Union). This allowed me to understand architecture on a political level and to contribute in shaping decisions that affect our profession in France. 

There are two types of unions: one for employers and one for employees. 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 principal 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, but by unions, who draft the official guidelines that architecture firms must follow.

One of its most important aspects is also 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 to. Being part of a union means actively working to enhance public recognition and appreciation of architecture.

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