A new, inspiring generation

OC: Young, talented architects are eager to start with their ideas and research. They’re exploring topics they’re passionate about, and they have the opportunity to establish their own businesses. And if things don’t work out, they can always return to a well-known firm. That safety net allows younger talents to start independently, knowing they have a second chance if needed. I think it’s really a question of the current era—it's 2024, and mindsets are shifting. Many people have good ideas and are researching them, finding their own path and language in architecture. 

I think it’s the same across the country. Everywhere, questions about materials, economy, and ecology—saving energy, creating compact buildings––are cropping up. There’s a constant rethinking of construction, often based on traditional methods and a consideration of how to develop new projects rooted in long-standing approaches. This is part of our building and architectural culture, and it’s a major topic in Switzerland now, especially as there are aspects of current architecture that many of us feel need improvement. Young architects are responding to the times, developing high-quality projects that address issues like identity, material reuse, and alternatives to concrete. 

There’s also a new interest in how we live together. Living spaces are becoming more connected and less isolated, which I find fascinating right now. There are these moments, in competitions, when a firm introduces something totally new, and everyone thinks, ‘Wow, this is so much better.’ Offices like Adrian Streich's, for example, developed a completely new approach to communal living in one of his projects, and everyone was amazed, wanting to explore and build on those ideas. That’s one aspect—sometimes an office brings fresh thinking about shared living, circulation, or material use. In Situ, a firm based in Basel, reuses materials, and everyone sees it as a great new approach, a good path forward. They succeeded, inspiring others to think in similar ways.

This momentum is growing, with everyone thinking in new ways. Back when I was studying, we thought about new forms of living and using materials, but it wasn’t as prominent as it is now. When we saw a competition entry with a new idea for the first time, it was like everything we’d thought about in the background came to the surface, allowing us to go further. Now, everyone is searching for new approaches.

Breaking out on his own

OC: I had worked in well-known architecture offices. Over time, I realised I had my own ideas and wanted to understand buildings, culture, and context more deeply. I was working on relatively large projects. When I thought about starting my own office, I wondered if the smaller projects might be too limited, but I quickly realised they offered a new level of complexity. In my own practice, I could decide how deeply I wanted to go into the details. I found this incredibly inspiring, especially with my first project, which was a request to renovate a small, historic building in the Alps. It was a house with two flats, and through this project, I grew, discovering and refining my own language in architecture, while still exploring it.

For me, context is key. Working on an old building means researching its history—discovering how it was originally built, the types of timber used, the ceiling heights, and other details. Before I started my own business, I had worked on projects with hundreds of flats, focused on urbanism and the overall look. But with my own office, I could dive into the building's typology, which was specific to its Alpine setting. I found this experience completely different and was fascinated by it. That’s when I realised that a project doesn’t have to be big or famous; it just needs to be right for its place.

This experience sparked my interest in research. I wanted to understand buildings deeply, not just to interpret them but to find the identities within their context. Once you understand these identities, you can thoughtfully intervene. I often feel that much of what’s needed in new architecture is already there—it just requires reassembling and recombining to bring everything to life in a fresh way. This was a new realisation for me, which began when I started my own business.

Now, I view large buildings differently; I find them complex but intriguing. Yet, I see that complexity can exist both in small and large projects. This seems to be a reflection of our times, where people are rethinking many aspects of life, like travelling less and valuing local connections. I think this shift in thinking is part of a broader, global change, especially in Europe. It’s not just one thing or another; it feels like a new, holistic way of thinking that’s emerging now. During the first eight years, I focused on smaller buildings, with the largest being a house with eight flats. Now, things are evolving, with projects growing in size. Initially, my work was mainly for private clients and winning a few competitions, but now it’s shifting, and I’m also evolving in my thinking. I feel a pull to explore larger or different types of projects, as I’m interested in pushing forward and discovering new typologies and building methods.

A journey of exploration

OC: My team and I do a lot of research. There’s always a central idea, a main concept guiding our intervention, and every element of the project aligns with this one idea. We avoid having too many main ideas that could create a conflict; we stay focused on a single strong concept. This main idea is carried through in every detail, down to the craftsmanship. We also look for materials like timber, concrete, stone, or steel—materials that feel real and honest. Our approach is rooted in research and understanding the context, as well as in finding ways to incorporate new construction forms within that context. It’s a constant process of exploration and collaboration, and that’s how we work together.

I’m always drawn to projects I’m personally interested in, so visiting the building site and understanding the context through research is essential for me. I usually start this process alone, before bringing in one of my employees, and we explore the project deeper together, discussing ideas. This process helps us identify any issues, like if an idea isn’t working or if it’s not being understood, and then we go back to the project to refine it.

Another important part is involving the client in the journey. I feel it’s crucial to help them understand why choosing the right materials and quality is more important than just going for cheaper options. Often, clients want to modernise everything in an old house, and I have to explain that respecting the home’s character is essential for a meaningful renovation. This journey builds understanding, and in the end, every client I’ve worked with has become a friend. They gain a deep appreciation for their own house, which I think is a valuable part of our work.

As you grow and gain more experience, there’s often a fear of losing that experimental spirit. In the beginning, I had countless questions and felt free to ask anything, learning from those I admired. Now, I worry a bit about keeping that curiosity alive as I move forward. After eight years, I find myself re-evaluating, wondering if things have changed or if I’m still on the right path. This reflection feels personal, but I think it’s also part of growth. Many of my friends are feeling the same way—they started with big ideas, but now they have employees, larger projects, and different clients. We’re all considering how we want to approach the future and the direction we want to take.

What it takes to run a team

OC: I always tell my employees that my critiques are for the project, not personal. I think that’s crucial for them to understand. Just because something they’ve done is charming, thoughtful, and well-executed doesn’t always mean it’s a strong enough idea, and I need to say that. My role is to ensure we stay aligned with the main idea, so we don’t lose focus. This year, I changed the workspace to a long table where we all work together. It’s important to me that everyone can be part of each project and contribute to a shared environment. There’s a strong sense of friendship, which is important to me, and I want everyone to enjoy working here. This collaborative setup is how we build the office culture, but ultimately, I still have to guide the direction and highlight what’s essential as we move forward.

I’m also very interested in craftsmanship and how all elements come together in a project. I focus on how the room is built, the materials, the views, and creating a poetic harmony. If everything aligns just right, that’s what I’m striving for—capturing a poetic quality that people can feel in the space. It’s about craftsmanship, material, room, client, and landscape; it’s a blend of so many things. In architecture, we build with all these elements, and if they come together strongly in a single vision, that’s what I’m searching for. This is my main goal, regardless of the project’s size; it’s whether that quality is present. Cultural context matters too—not only architectural culture but also the local culture. When everything aligns and people feel connected in a space, that’s the main point for me.

Trust in the process

OC: When I visit a building, I experience it in a way that goes beyond description. I could tell stories about each building I’ve worked on that could fill hours. And while sometimes I think about sharing a specific story—a project that turned out differently than expected or a challenging situation that ended successfully—I’m most grateful for the trust my clients have shown me. It’s remarkable how open they have been, even when I was a young architect without a lot of completed projects. I think most of the projects, if not all, ended up better because the clients were deeply involved. Their questions and ideas often shift my own thinking. It can be challenging—sometimes it's a ‘kill your darlings’ moment, where I have to let go of my initial ideas and develop new sketches and concepts. But in the end, the results were always stronger because the clients felt truly invested in the process. Most of my clients have returned to work with me on second or even third projects, which has been very rewarding.

When I started my business, I had two clients. Shortly after, a new client came along, and now I’ve completed four buildings for him. This client, in particular, has been amazing—very high standards, incredibly trusting, and committed to creating meaningful projects. I think some of my best work has come from this partnership because we know each other so well now; we understand each other’s vision and approach. It’s a great example of how, as architects, we sometimes aim to guide or ‘educate’ our clients, but it also works the other way around. We have to appreciate the client’s commitment, especially when they’re investing so much trust—and often their life savings—into these projects. For example, in the first project I did with this client, we created a house for him that involved complex engineering. The structure rested on four pairs of pillars, requiring a unique approach to withstand the forces involved. There were no visualisations, only sketches and models, but he trusted my vision completely. After they moved in, there was a big storm that weekend, and on Monday, they called to say, ‘Everything held up; the house is standing strong.’ That moment was special—it showed both the resilience of the design and the trust that had been built.