Defining one’s own path

CV: Twelve years ago, after finishing university, I moved to Zurich, which was an exciting city for young architects at the time. There were numerous competitions and an abundance of projects. Coming from Barcelona, where a construction crisis had taken hold, many of us sought opportunities in Central and Northern Europe. Zurich was particularly appealing because many offices offered the possibility of working part-time, allowing me to dedicate time to my own research and explore what interested me as an architect. I could, from a very early stage, question the role of an architect today and explore different topics that I am passionate about. This part-time structure is something many of my friends and colleagues also do/did. It provides both the learning process through practice and the financial stability to live while also giving the flexibility to develop your own practice, slowly finding projects that truly resonate with you.

I believe everything happens in a somewhat coincidental way. If you remain open and engage with others, share your interests, and listen to different experiences, opportunities will naturally come your way. For example, when I was working part-time, I reconnected with a friend I had studied with during my Erasmus in Berlin, and we decided to join forces to start Rotative Studio, which evolved until 2023. A friend contacted us to design a pavilion for a small cultural association in Romandy (the French-speaking region of Switzerland). At first, we were unsure about the low budget, but we decided to do it and approached it playfully, creating a generous 36-meter circular open modular pavilion. The pavilion became a central place for meeting and culture in that area. Later on, a neighbouring municipality that saw the impact that this project had on the local communities, approached and offered us our first real commission, the Three Pavilions in Aigle, which would become the signature of our practice. 

Since the inception of Rotative Studio, I have been interested in dissolving the traditional boundaries of the discipline and expanding into the arts and exploratory thinking. Through an experimental method we developed—what we call ‘on-site explorations’—we combined performance and play as a form of 1:1 scale design to reveal new potential spaces. This approach also informed our teaching activities with students.

Immersive narratives

CV: After spending the last seven years working under the name of rotative studio, I have started my own practice, Caterina Viguera Studio, based in Zurich and Barcelona. One project that has recently been completed is the sonic pavilion Encounter Iced Sound 2.0, which I developed together with Swiss composer Ramon Landolt. Landolt had been exploring the sounds of melting glaciers since 2019, and I proposed bringing an abstract fragment of the glacier into public space, creating an immersive experience to connect people with this fragile landscape and urban sounds, while highlighting the effects of the climate crisis through sonic exploration. 

I took part in the expeditions to several alpine glaciers as part of the team, documenting the process. I found it fascinating, even though I had never been in that kind of context before. I didn’t eve know how to use crampons. But over time, I began to understand a different landscape and observe the architecture of ice—its multiple layers. Microphones would be placed into crevasses and ice walls of glacial caves. With the images I took, I noticed vertical and horizontal shapes, offsetting patterns, and varying colours. Colour became very important as I captured the depth and transparency of the ice. That’s when I realised there was something truly fascinating here that I wanted to further investigate and incorporate in my research. When we began creating our self-initiated project, we used this experience as a foundation. This project conveys the fragility of the landscape through the lens of art and architecture.

The experience of working with artists has been incredibly enriching. I realised that art has a unique ability to bring in different layers of storytelling, which architects sometimes overlook. I’m especially interested in integrating multiple senses into architecture, such as sound and haptic features, which can add depth to the experience. This has led us to explore new projects, including one involving public fountains and groundwater. The idea came from conversations at the IAH World Groundwater Congress in Davos, where we discussed how to make scientific data about climate change more visible. The project would use public fountains to bring awareness to groundwater issues and climate change in a more immersive way. We’re still seeking funding for this next step, but it’s an exciting direction that blends art, science, and architecture.

Layers of colour, layers of meaning

CV: Colour has always been my biggest fascination, especially within public spaces, where it has the power to capture the attention of passers-by, to evoke new concepts, and to suggest transformation. The Three Pavilions in Aigle I designed with rotative studio was an incredible opportunity to experiment with colour, combining greens, blues, and reds in ways that tell an interconnected story.

In this phase of my career, I’m exploring the use of these palettes also in the design of domestic spaces to see how they work and what effect they create. Of course, you need to be lucky to have clients who are open to discussing colour—clients who don’t want white walls and instead prefer the statement and magic that colours give to space. For a project in Zurich, I used over 7 different colours and played with different combinations, which we discussed extensively. I’m eager to bring what I’ve learned from it to my two current projects in Barcelona. The idea is to transfer these findings from public space to interior spaces and perhaps experiment with them further in my work.

What I find interesting is how, when you grow up in one culture and then design in another, you bring your background with you. The way you use space, public spaces, colours, and even your understanding of everyday life—all of these elements mix and influence the new context. When I look at the work of architects from places like Spain, Italy, Belgium, or France, I see how they bring something unique from their culture. In a way, that’s what makes their work interesting. The experience of moving to a new place, adapting to new systems, and learning a new language—not just regulations, but the entire approach to architectural production—is enriching. At first, you leave your culture behind, but over time, you adapt and blend your origins with the new context, creating something new.

The beauty of transformation

CV: I believe in transforming existing structures, rather than creating new ones from scratch. I’m more interested in working with what’s already there and finding sustainable ways to infuse new meanings, values, and uses. In my first professional experience working in competitions in an office in Zurich, I lost a bit of the fascination I once had for improvisation and experimentation. Perhaps it’s because I’m not as rigorous as some other people, and I enjoy working on process over outputs. I no longer feel the need to define architecture as just big objects; I want to see it more as a collection of small moments that happen, synchronise, and evolve—a series of interconnected events.

I have been working on a project in Greece (which started within rotative studio), an old oil mill in ruins, dating back to the early 1800s. It didn’t meet today’s energy standards, and I had to deal with the challenges of retrofitting it and working from the distance. Through my experience, I’ve learned that the project really comes to life during construction visits, not just through plans. Despite the difficulties, I took on the project because I had spent summers on this island in Greece, met the client, and respected and cherished her ambition to transform this ruin into a more diaphanous, less typological space. The process was beautiful, figuring out how to bring stones from the walls to create a light, to create a dynamic space that allowed for 360-degree circulation. Of course, colour played an important role, and I focused on a terracotta palette inspired by the earth of Greece, which is dry and hot. 

Another important project for me that I did, within rotative studio, was while teaching at the Wildcard Design Studio Academy in Rotterdam, where we explored the topic of climate change and how public spaces will be affected as cities face constant flooding. We called it Learning from Venice—a city I cherish deeply. A Venetian friend of my family once told me to read the facades of the city, to look for handmade lines and written numbers, which mark the highest points of Aqua Alta (the high level of water) for each year. I found it fascinating that Venice keeps this archive of the fluctuation of water levels. We decided to focus on redefining public spaces after flooding—how to redesign squares, streets, and entrances once water has overtaken them. This project from 2022, although in the past, is still relevant to my work today. I’m finding that water and architecture is becoming a central theme in my research and future projects. 

New societal structures

CV: In 2020, together with a multidisciplinary group of professionals and friends, we founded Stadtufer, a mixed-use cooperative, where I became co-president and board member. In January 2021, we successfully purchased a post-industrial complex of approximately 8,000 m2 in the city of Lichtensteig (Switzerland). 

This project focuses on creating new ways of living and working together, combining architecture with self-organisation. It has become a defining project for me, shaping my personality as I learned so much from the process: a gradual and sustainable transformation of the old factory into new residential, cultural and commercial spaces. 

During the years I was involved in the project (between 2020 and 2024) I worked as an architect in charge of different tasks to activate the spaces and define the vision and concept of new uses for the project. At the same time, as a member of the cooperative, I was part of this almost ‘grassroots movement’ that started to give a new life to the factory. 

It's important, I believe, to constantly reflect and rethink what we do and what we truly value. This creates the connections needed for new projects and collaborations with other practitioners and artists who are motivated to explore new ideas, rather than replicating systems we already know.