An expanding landscape

DS: Landscape architecture is steadily gaining popularity in Switzerland, although this development has only begun in recent years. The professional community remains small, which can be frustrating. There's a clear need for more landscape architects, more discourse, and more educational institutions—there still isn’t a critical mass. Perhaps there are only ten or twenty small, young offices across the entire country. It’s a paradox and falls short of the expectations we should have, especially considering the urgent issues we face today. There are so many pressing challenges: climate change, ecological degradation, urban densification, housing shortages, and the transformation of former industrial areas. To address them, we need more people—more professors, designers, researchers, and landscape architecture firms.

JS: In both political and public discourse, open space has become a major topic. The COVID-19 lockdown marked a turning point—suddenly, everyone was outside, and the demand for parks and public spaces surged. Today, with rising urban heat, the conversation increasingly revolves around trees, vegetation, and urban nature. These issues now sit high on many agendas. It’s encouraging to see others taking the lead, but at times we worry that our discipline risks falling behind. This concern is closely tied to the fact that our professional community is still relatively small. That said, we’re not here to complain. On the contrary, we believe this is a perfect moment to engage. The relevance of these topics is growing rapidly across many sectors. That makes now a real opportunity—especially for young and mid-career practitioners—to step up, get involved, and help drive things forwards.

DS: We are being called to respond to urgent and complex questions. Switzerland is growing: there’s less available space, more people, increasing demand for housing, and significant investment in development. As a result, public and open spaces are shrinking, putting growing pressure on the ones that remain. At the same time, there’s a cultural shift underway. People want to be outside more—influenced by a more Mediterranean lifestyle—and public space has become part of daily life in ways that were rare twenty years ago. Add to this the changing climate, with more hot days than ever before, and it’s clear that outdoor spaces are becoming not only more desirable but more necessary. Then there are the critical ecological and climatic challenges—sometimes overwhelming in their scale. Topics like urban vegetation, biodiversity, and especially heat mitigation are becoming central to the urban agenda. And their importance will only continue to grow.

In short, our field—landscape architecture—has gained rapid relevance in recent years. Healthy, liveable cities and walkable neighbourhoods depend on robust concepts for open space. We are particularly interested in the intermediary scale—somewhere between the individual parcel and its neighbourhood, and the broader urban territory—because that’s where key decisions are made. Landscape architects are often involved too late, but early engagement is crucial to contribute meaningful ideas.

Using global perspectives locally

DS: Jan and I met at the Fachhochschule, Eastern Switzerland University of Applied Sciences (OST) in Rapperswil, one of the few schools in Switzerland offering a bachelor’s degree in landscape architecture. There weren’t many options at the university level, and even ETH didn’t offer a landscape architecture program at the time. So we chose to go to Rapperswil and both completed the traditional bachelor’s degree.

After that, we went to different offices. I spent a couple of years at VOGT Landschaftsarchitekten, a prominent landscape office involved in large-scale, internationally recognised projects, while Jan joined Klötzli Friedli in Bern. That experience was very meaningful to me. It soon became clear that I wanted to continue on this path by pursuing a master’s degree. But again, options were limited in Switzerland—there was no master’s program in landscape architecture or urban design. So we were both compelled to go abroad, which turned out to be the best thing that happened to us. I went to the U.S., to the GSD, Harvard Graduate School of Design, for a Master’s in Landscape Architecture with a focus on Urban Design, while Jan went to TU Munich to study Urbanism. That was a very important point in our careers.

Going abroad exposed us to a wide range of people and disciplines—planners and architects from all over—discussing urbanism, cities, and landscape. Coming from Switzerland, where the problems are real but not as large in scale, it was fascinating to engage with these broader urban challenges. When we returned, I began working at ETH as an assistant at Gunther Vogt’s studio, which was a great opportunity to engage in research and teaching while applying the knowledge I had gained at Harvard. I worked there for a few years, and in the meantime, Jan and I began participating in competitions, winning our first one for a public square in Geneva. That’s how we started the office, even though it was just the two of us with a laptop, complementing the practice by working part-time at ETH. It’s a great model: steady income, teaching, and research while building your own office. Many people follow this path, and we did the same. That was the beginning, and in 2016 we officially launched the firm, although I continued my collaboration at ETH until 2019. From the start, we decided to focus on what we love and what truly interests us: public spaces. The Geneva public space project was a great starting point, giving us the chance to experiment with our ideas and realise an actual project.

We also participated in some housing competitions, but we aren’t particularly drawn to gardens or private projects. That early decision helped us define and strengthen our profile. We then moved on to larger-scale projects, which was challenging—because you can’t just show up and say, “Hi, let’s do a master plan.” It took years to enter the realm of planning and large-scale work. The practice has grown organically, especially over the last couple of years. We started as two, then three, four, and now we are about fourteen.

Growing in scale and ambitions

JS: From the beginning, we were passionate about public spaces. The Geneva project offered a great opportunity for us as young landscape architects to design and plan something tangible. Geneva is about three hours away—long by Swiss standards—so we needed to officially establish a firm, which marked the starting point of S2L. The project began but was then paused for a long time, which is typical for public space projects—there wasn’t much pressure or funding at the time. The design itself is simple, perhaps even typical for us. We’re not designers who obsess over every detail. Instead, we prefer a big-picture approach—creating strong, robust public spaces that can adapt over time and be used freely by people. The square has a clear border, a sort of Parisian character, with mineral surfaces, a large fountain, and long benches—simple, generous elements that are almost invisible in their design. It’s a laid-back approach, focused on core principles: circulation, vegetation, and the quality of seating. Technically, the project was complex due to dense underground infrastructure, but visually and conceptually, it remains simple and clear. That design approach still guides our work today, though it has evolved.

After that first project, we were mostly involved in housing competitions. At the time, we were young and relatively unknown, so we often teamed up with other colleagues, which gave us the chance to collaborate and gain experience. As we became more established, we also became more selective—choosing projects and competitions that aligned with our values. Today, we have clear criteria: not just financially viable projects, but ones where we can truly create something meaningful. We’ve been quite deliberate in avoiding certain types of work—no private gardens or investor-driven projects that might be tempting in the short term but don’t align with our principles. We stayed focused on what mattered to us, participating in many competitions along the way.

Winning a few of those competitions allowed us to realise more projects and gradually scale up. Open competitions often attract 100 to 150 entries, making them extremely difficult to win, so we began focusing on selective, pre-qualified competitions. We’ve been able to access those thanks to the portfolio we’ve steadily built. One particularly important project for the development and stability of our office was the Kantonsschule Limmattal in Urdorf. We won the planner selection process in 2018, and the project was completed in 2024. It played a key role in giving the office continuity—with a solid budget and the opportunity to design outdoor sports courts, facilities, and a broader green strategy, including the planting of many new trees.

Shaping the Limmat

DS: A key tipping point for us was the Leitbild Limmatraum project—a master plan for Zurich’s riverfront. It’s a large-scale undertaking: eight kilometres from the lake to the city border, covering a total of sixteen kilometres of shoreline. This is where we applied the full range of our expertise—from classical landscape architecture to urban design—examining open space typologies and collaborating across a broad range of disciplines. Projects of this scale are rare for landscape architects in Switzerland; few are willing or interested in engaging with urban work at this level.

Zurich is growing, and the open spaces along the Limmat River are under increasing pressure. It has become one of the city’s most important public areas, attracting a wide range of people and activities. Yet, there was no strategic vision—no clear framework to guide which spaces should be preserved, where new parks or squares could emerge, or how to improve public access to the river. A comprehensive, large-scale perspective was missing. As part of our proposal, we began with a detailed territorial analysis and developed a system of typologies to describe the quality and connectivity of spaces—identifying how people access the river, where they walk, cycle, and gather. Our experience studying abroad gave us a broader perspective and shaped our distinctive approach to this kind of work.

We worked on the project for about four years. The plan includes heat maps—red for intensively used areas, yellow for zones prioritising ecological protection. We established a range of open space typologies, covering everything from classical green spaces to more industrial, in-transition areas. The character of Zurich’s riverfront is evolving significantly, which required a holistic and adaptive framework.

Throughout the process, we collaborated closely with traffic planners, ecologists, sociologists, and various city departments. After years of work, the plan entered the political process and was recently approved by the city council as a binding guideline—a master plan for all future projects along the Limmat. Our core work on the project is now complete. While we are not currently involved in implementation, we continue to consult when needed—for example, we recently served as expert jurors for a new school swimming facility near the river.

Principles over objects

JS: The Leitbild Limmatraum project helped us secure another important commission: the Freiraumkonzept Dreispitz, initiated by the Christoph Merian Stiftung—the largest private foundation in Basel. Four offices were invited to develop ideas, concepts, and approaches for this complex task, and in the end, S2L was selected. The project brought together a large interdisciplinary team, including climate experts, ecologists, architects, urban planners, and sociologists, who facilitated participatory workshops to engage local stakeholders. Our role was to lead the project—with the other teams working alongside us, rather than the other way around.

DS: This project is quite different: it’s not about having a single plot of land to design a green public space with trees and gardens. Instead, it’s about approaching a 50-acre industrial site—huge, problematic, and entirely sealed with asphalt. It’s a massive heat island, partly abandoned, and a former no-go area. The challenge is how to transform it into a lively neighbourhood with meaningful public spaces. This isn’t a project that can be built immediately; it’s a strategic instrument aimed at gradually turning the area into a vibrant, green, and liveable space. We had to tackle issues such as climate—heat mitigation, ecological preservation—while still accommodating densification. Which areas can be built on, and which must be preserved? Which open spaces need to be secured for future generations, and which can be transformed? The work requires defining design principles, clear typologies, and rules—designing spaces in a prototypical way, establishing frameworks rather than specific objects. At the same time, it’s very grounded and practical: you need to dive into details, zoom in and out constantly, coordinate with different stakeholders, consider traffic, and understand the whole system—or risk losing sight of the project.

JS: It was a challenge to maintain a strategic overview and vision while staying process-oriented and precise. We defined typologies, gave them names, and developed each one in detail. For example, there were four parks. In the end, we designed each park individually, then zoomed out and abstracted again. It was a multi-scalar approach—constantly diving in and out. The final plan distilled all design principles and summarised them like a zoning plan, but based on principles: what can move, criteria such as wind and ecological corridors, setbacks, and guidance on where to build and where not. Politically, the focus is on extracting clear urban design principles. The area is rough and abandoned—industrial, sealed, with extensive parking—but it also hosts dry, warm ecosystems with specific plant and animal species that must be protected. Trees can’t be planted everywhere; some areas need shading, while others remain open and sunny.

The politics of public space

DS: The Lakeside in Wollishofen is located on the left shore of the lake, in one of Zurich’s neighbourhoods. It’s well-known for the Rote Fabrik—the “Red Factory,” an old red industrial site that serves as Zurich’s main cultural hub, hosting workshops, clubs, and concert halls. The area also includes a concrete plant, which is set to cease production soon, freeing up the entire site. Although the city has plans or special permission to build housing on the lakefront, the proposal faces widespread opposition. There were demonstrations and a big movement to protect the area, and they asked different teams to devise scenarios for developing the site. We were one of those teams. Our principle was to densify along the street while opening up the public park at the lakefront—securing it and pushing the city to purchase the land and make it accessible to everyone. 

What was particularly interesting is that, as designers, architects, and landscape professionals, we need to be strongly political—not just creating designs, but proposing and communicating bold ideas for how a city should develop. Being part of these meetings was invaluable: there were intense debates, with everyone involved in a truly participatory process. I loved seeing ideas emerge across disciplines, working together with architects and sociologists, and it’s encouraging to see landscape architects taking an active role in discussions that are politically relevant and shape the future development and decision-making of our cities. The city took our project and turned it into a master plan, which is now going through the approval process. 

It’s rewarding to have a real impact on city development through design. In Switzerland, landscape architecture hasn’t traditionally been very political, unlike in some other European countries, but that’s changing. Emerging generations of architects are becoming more politically engaged, and projects like this one show the potential of our discipline to influence urban development. We need more initiatives like this to build that critical mass.