Finding her place

SG: I studied architecture in Italy and spent a year in Valencia, Spain, for my Erasmus exchange, where I realised that Italy wasn't the only place in the world. Returning home, I found it difficult to settle back in. Though I hadn't originally planned on working abroad, I spent a year and a half trying to remain in Italy. However, the conditions were unsustainable: no pay, no contracts, no holidays, and working ten hours a day, seven days a week. That’s when I decided to give myself the chance to try something else. I borrowed my family’s camper van. My parents were understandably concerned, but I told them I needed a real holiday for the first time in my life and wanted to see what was going on in Northern Europe, as I’d heard things were different there. I’d already decided that Spain wasn’t the best fit for me, so I travelled, stopping in each city in Germany, but it wasn’t quite what I hoped for either. At the Northern German border, I saw a ferry going to Copenhagen and thought, why not? Three days later, I had a job offer.

It turned out to be a great experience professionally—it was my first job abroad, and I was living independently in a new country. But even though I think Copenhagen is one of the most beautiful cities in the world, I felt isolated. So, after 3 years, I looked through Swiss architecture job listings, and the first one I saw was from a firm called bauzeit architekten, where I ended up working for seven years. They were specifically looking for an Italian architect, as they’d just won a competition in Italy. I took it as a sign and decided to move.

Moving here was a fresh start. I quickly made friends and built a strong network. I think that’s more a reflection of Biel than Switzerland as a whole. Biel feels like paradise; it’s not like Zurich, Geneva, or Lausanne, which is why I feel at home here. Also, after moving a lot, I realised that I am who I am, regardless of where I live. This insight was crucial because I used to feel stressed about where I should be and thought that location and opportunities were everything. But after living in Copenhagen, I understood that I am Sara, whether I’m in Copenhagen, Switzerland, Rome, Venice, or New York. This realisation helped me relax and give myself the chance to stay here and let Sara become who she wants to be—whatever that might mean. I think our generation struggles with this to some extent; we have the freedom to choose where to live, study, and work, and I’m not sure if all this freedom has necessarily given us more. Professionally, though, I’ve gained a lot from experiencing architecture in different places, like Spain and Copenhagen, and these perspectives continue to inform my work. It’s like being part of a multicultural ‘melting pot’ with a vision that’s both local and global.

A shift to independence

SG: In my early years in Biel, my personal life took priority over my professional life. I was focused on rebuilding and adjusting. While I wouldn’t say I was unhappy at my first firm, it didn’t feel entirely fulfilling either. Part of this was because, as a generalist, I didn’t fit well into the highly specialised environment of a big firm. Still, I was happy overall and formed great relationships. I’m still in contact with my former colleagues and bosses. It was a ‘transition’—a word that feels central to this journey. During this transition, I was in the midst of buying and renovating my house—my first personal project. Yet a part of me felt unfulfilled as an architect in that setting.

When I finally realised that, my reaction was to try a competition on my own, which I unexpectedly won. This success brought mixed feelings. While it made me see that I wanted more, managing both the competition and my firm job was challenging. Eventually, I gave the competition project to another firm as a gift and decided to focus on my current role. It was a difficult choice, but it also fueled my desire to pursue architecture in a more personal way. In my final year-end evaluation at bauzeit architekten, we discussed how the large-firm environment demanded a niche specialisation—something I’d resisted all my life. They understood this and suggested I move to another firm in the same building, where a role more suited to me had opened up. It was a perfect fit, and my first 3 years had been a time of immense growth, especially under the guidance of my mentor, Julie, who taught me everything. Our professional and personal connection was incredible, and she gave me significant responsibilities, making it an ideal environment for growth as an architect.

When I unexpectedly became pregnant with my third child, I embraced it, as I tend to ‘go with the flow.’ After that, I didn’t return to work with Julie as an employee; instead, I asked if I could use a small space to start my own practice. Although I didn’t have a clear vision at the time, I knew I wanted to build a network with other architects, especially women who shared similar goals and family priorities. Through this network, I partnered with two architects and took on my first major project, a chalet in the mountains. Julie, my mother (she is also an architect) and I discussed this step, and their support gave me the confidence to begin.

Priorities in life

SG: I don’t believe there’s a ‘gendered’ approach to architecture or that we face outright discrimination, but I do think there are differences. For instance, raising children often makes balancing career and family challenging, especially in Switzerland, a relatively conservative country where systemic support is limited. For example, kids don’t stay at school all day, which complicates schedules. Combined with a lingering perception of architecture as a male-dominated field, these factors create additional obstacles. Yet, I see it as part of the game; being a woman and a mother who’s also an architect is entirely achievable. My husband has been my greatest supporter, and he’s a big reason for my success. He understands that my work is a fundamental part of me, and he’s adjusted his schedule to be with the kids more. I think this partnership has been key to our family’s happiness. He’s Swiss, but he’s anything but traditional; he could be the ‘mom’ of the family. This dynamic allows me to work guilt-free, which is essential. My family has kept me grounded, preventing me from becoming an architect who only thinks about architecture all day long. They came into my life at just the right moment, and I’ve valued that from the start. When you have kids, you realise that others may have more time, but I accept that. Parenting is challenging these days, with so many influences, screens, and distractions. No one asked me to come to Switzerland or to have children—it was my choice. And while I want to do both, I prioritise being a mother.

I see parallels between creating a building and giving birth to a child. To me, designing a building is like adopting it; it’s something permanent. Maybe that’s just my perspective. I also believe that as women, our natural empathy is a valuable part of the profession, especially with smaller projects. My empathy helps me truly listen and understand clients, which is something I feel is often linked to being a woman.

Competing, growing, adapting

SG: Networking has never been my strength, so when I decided to establish my own firm, I knew I’d need a different strategy to maximise my chances. One option was continuing to take on small projects, but that’s unpredictable. So, I decided competitions were the best route because, though it feels random, there’s also some logic to it. It’s like roulette, but once you understand the rules, winning is possible. In Switzerland, there are over 200–300 open competitions every year, and the process is fair and anonymous. Your background doesn’t matter; all that matters is your submission. That’s why I chose competitions as one way to build my portfolio. I entered 22 of them before finally winning one—although I won my first-ever competition, which feels like a different lifetime. For me, the journey really began in 2019. I’d work on competitions at night after my kids went to bed because I didn’t want my practice to interfere with family time. Family is my priority, so I decided to keep my day structured, working 60–70% alongside my husband, as is common here in Switzerland. For the other 30–40%, I’d work at night, even though it meant less sleep, which, as any parent knows, isn’t rare.

Over time, I funded these competitions with income from my day projects. By entering consistently and studying what works, I got a handle on the system, and eventually, it was bound to pay off. When it did, it happened all at once—I won two competitions in one week, which was such a surprise. One of them, a small nursery project in Jura, was a dream come true. The other, in Valais, was a much larger undertaking—a sports complex with multiple levels—not what I had planned. But my husband encouraged me to go for it. He’d often say that not being Swiss was a disadvantage, as I might miss things that are obvious to locals. So he took an interest in researching the competitions for me, especially on Espazium, and he pushed me to enter this one in Brig-Glis. He thought the jury would understand my perspective, and he was right. During the kids’ autumn holiday, we took a trip to Italy, leaving them with my parents for a week—our only chance for alone time each year. On our way back, he suggested we stop in Brig to check out the project site. I saw the project unfold in my mind, almost like a vision, which isn’t typical for me. Back home, I decided to go for it, collaborating with another architect. In three weeks, we submitted our entry, and we won.

At that time, I was working alone, managing everything myself, which I enjoyed because it meant I was fully accountable for this unusual lifestyle. Now, I have two employees, Guillaume and David. I know that if I want to take on big projects, I’ll need more people. And having employees is one way to protect the freedom of spending time with my family, even if it doesn’t make me richer. But I'm still deciding if that’s the path I want long-term. Right now, I’m committed for the next four to five years, but I'm exploring whether I want a team of employees or prefer a network of freelancers. 

Striking the right balance

SG: I think I won this competition in Brig because, thanks to my kids, I truly understand first-hand how a school should function in Switzerland. I bring them to school every day, observing and trying to understand what should matter in a school environment, from the perspective of a child, not just an architect or adult. This is why I decided to dedicate this phase of my career to school design. 

The second key for me as an architect is place—where a project is located. This might be more of an Italian mindset, as in Switzerland, especially in competitions, there’s a greater focus on the object itself—how it looks, its form—and a lesser focus on its relationship with the surroundings. For me, it’s the opposite. My architectural approach is the result of many influences, and sometimes it's difficult to find a balance. On one hand, I'm deeply connected to the context, to what was there before, and to understanding the history and purpose of a building. On the other hand, to succeed in a Swiss competition, I have to lean toward their priorities, which means compromising.

I don’t necessarily think this competition project is my best work, but it’s the project that won. At some point, I had to set aside part of my architectural self to adapt, and while that can be hard to accept, I also feel proud that I could recognise and respond well to the expectations of another culture. After 16 years here, it’s hard to separate how I’ve adapted to become more successful from what I’ve changed for myself. But I think, as with animals adapting to their environment, it's about survival. My architecture had to evolve, and I’m grateful for smaller projects, as they allow me to stay connected to the core of who I am as an architect.

Small projects, big satisfaction

SG: A wise architect, a friend of my mother, once told me that the most important thing for an architect is the client. If the client isn't a good fit, you can't create good architecture. I've been fortunate to work with great clients recently, including on a challenging three-year project. This is something I never want to lose. In large-scale projects, the client often becomes an unclear entity—a community or group—and you lose that personal connection. I genuinely enjoy working closely with private clients. It's not about my satisfaction alone; it’s about achieving harmony in the project. 

For this particular project, I met the client's mother years ago when she was running an organisation for child care in Biel, where my kids attended. She knew me as a person, but not as an architect. I feel that many clients come to me because they know and trust me personally, not necessarily for my reputation as an architect, as I’m still building that. When her son wanted to renovate his house, he contacted me initially for minor updates like painting or flooring. However, we soon discovered the roof was deteriorating, which required a new, much larger project. The house was located in a protected area near the old city centre and railway, so we couldn’t use a crane, so we built everything by helicopter.

We decided to see this setback as an opportunity. Regulations allowed us to raise the roof slightly, adding a new level for his and his wife’s creative activities—both are artists, and this connection made our collaboration even stronger. We had a tight budget, so we contracted out only the roof, and the family took on the rest as a self-built project. The client even took two years off work. The whole family contributed, and I coordinated the project. It was the best experience of my career because they were as committed as I was, building a shared dream.

They still send me postcards because they're so happy with their new home. This kind of project—where there’s mutual dedication and satisfaction—is something I don’t want to give up to take on larger projects. The project was shortlisted for the Kaninchen Preis by Hochparterre in 2024.