The proposal offers an aggregation of homes suited to a wide array of potential customs of living (a significant proportion were reserved for refugees, to provide, as the program stated: 'places of retreat' which we wholeheartedly agreed with as a direction) – from contained courtyard types to more socially interactive gallery access flats – arranged in such a way as to be mutually beneficial and to form a meaningful and consolidated neighbourhood. As with other recent competitions in Basel, the city provided a database of materials available to re-use. Within an insulated layer, these were integrated in a straight-forward manner to maximise their structural efficacy.

Only sleeping rooms, built into the hillside, and a study above, are insulated and closable with doors and windows. The remainder of the areas are left open to the elements (and haphazard visitors), under a large, shade-granting roof.

Various, and in some cases operable, openings between partitions create a perceived depth greater than actual dimensions. Colors and subtle alterations in the scale of objects – such as lamps – or the thickness of shelves, further exaggerate this effect (while at the same time having sense for other, atmospheric or structural, rationale). A fuzzy light-body greets one at the entry and participates as a loose focus amongst rooms – analogous to a hearth.

A porous, long foyer – an invitation to the city – offers a dynamic experience, much like a fragmented stage-set. Various balconies, stairs and bridges potentially trigger the spatial sensation of spectators being at the centre of communal life. The typically defined roles of actors and audience thereby become blurred.

A new house is planned on the same natural-stone foundations as a ruined stable (of which the granite and ceramic tiles are re-used for new retaining walls and paving). The upper layer of the roof is completely covered by a pergola entwined with lush Vitis. This provides a generous, otherworldly space for contemplation and strolling (similar as at the philosopher's path in Kyoto) in the mornings and evenings; while the shade generated by dense leaves passively cools the house throughout the day. The grapes, once harvested from the vines, offer both sustenance and pleasure for the bovine and human inhabitants of the farm.

Shelves built of the most common fir slats – holding documents, books and models facing onto a main, top-lit space, and otherwise tools and materials towards a secondary, darker storage area – reconfigure and partition a room in a former textile factory. Curtains screen off disorder (the "put-away" idea) to allow concentration. Hanging from the building's structural tension-rod, a long, curved, aluminium lamp casts light down during evening hours, onto a broad, working table. The 0.6 millimetre thick sheet metal was hammered, essentially folding it back and forth in minute dimensions – to prevent it from warping over a span of three metres. As an unexpected side-effect, the texture generates multifarious and fascinating reflections.

The lift, bathroom, emergency stair, and wardrobe are all situated as if they were pieces of loose furniture, varying in height, nonchalantly shoved aside within an empty, narrow plan. One space thereby "meanders" between the objects, admitting ample light from both the north and south facades. Although without the intention of being so, its resultant character is similar to that of a canyon – which however, once realised, after deliberation, influenced further adjustments. Rather than a typical gable roof, which would subtly halve the space of the top floor – here the semi cylindrical cross-section reinforces the notion of a single room. (The rotating, circular cut-out mirror in the bathroom is, in the sense of a Japanese apprentice, a "respectfully stolen" element from a Miller & Maranta project.)

A series of slender, parallel volumes are linked together at lower levels by hedges and high, floating screens of pleached trees, leading to an ambiguity in urbanistic reading. The complex thereby forms a block, yet is also a repetition of singular bars – leading to improved sunlight and ventilation for all flats. As opposed to built mass, plant-life stands in to fulfil the spatial definition society requests, but is subversive to a degree, remaining porous at ground level.

Over a period of eight days in February 2022, we met for a workshop to discuss and reconsider basic aspects of cemeteries for the present. Participants were assigned fragments to concentrate on – in some cases in relation to other colleagues’ proposals – and to develop their ideas through models. On the suggestion of Anna Staudt, a stonemason who is engaged in national seminars on the topic, we used, loosely, the Gerresheim Cemetery in Düsseldorf as a basis for our speculations.

Download a PDF documentation of the final works of the participants.

Our proposal for an expansion to a museum, containing a restaurant and additional gallery spaces, is a compact, linear building (essentially the only option due to the strict confines of the program and boundary lines). It is a typical 'Janus-face', with disparate character along its respective, two long facades. The eastern edge towards the Storhamar barn is resolute and calm, seemingly massive behind a dematerialised wooden screen, while the opposite, facing the Mjøsa lake is vibrant and dynamic, seeking out independence, in its own unique attitude, turning away from the historic ensemble. The building is seemingly self-aware about the sensitive context it is situated within, but at the same time also regarding the intricacies of contemporary life.

The design for the Kammgarnhof creates a socially dynamic, multi-layered and ecologically rich complex for the surrounding urban environment of Schaffhausen. It is a place offering a range of activities for all age groups, but the boundaries of such are not clear – effectively overlapped to encourage an exchange between individuals. Its goal is to offer a festive, playful atmosphere, complementing and reinforcing the qualities of other public spaces of Schaffhausen such as the grandiose Herrenacker Platz, the contemplative Kloster Allerheiligen, or the park-like character of the Mosergarten.

Bernex, a village at the outer-edge of Geneva, requested a campus on a site bound by a highway access ramp which excluded the possibility of building near it, thereby limiting the usable area, and as well created significant noise pollution. On the other side of the ramp an urban agricultural park is currently being planned. We proposed to turn the disadvantage into a quality by placing a continuous cap over the ramp, and then constructing, out of timber, the main classroom building overhead. Columns and minimal cores on the ground floor allow porosity – connecting the campus with the adjacent, agricultural fields. The campus in turn becomes a generous park in itself, with small pavilions containing facilities shared with the public – a sports halls, cafeteria, library and performing arts hall. A vision; a huge intervention – seemingly brutal, yet due to its existence, offers to society a serene, collective space.

A stonemason has a parcel of land at the Rhine on the outskirts of Düsseldorf where she stores extra stones, near her workshop; and plans on building a cabin to spend her midday break or weekends together with family. The cabin is thought to provide rich spatial depth, despite its relatively small size. Due to the means of openings, when one is seated on the back bench, the panels in front block the view of the sky, so concentration is focused exclusively on the flow of the river and the opposite bank – a nature preserve. This notion of filtering and contracting the conception of space is inspired by a similar framing device, at Koho-an (Kyoto) designed by Kobori Enshu in 1612.

At the edge of the city, along the street, a large area is left unbuilt as an offer – a public park. The meandering, stepped-back bar clearly marks the border between the urban fabric and the agricultural fields before a forest, and is so articulated as to offer generous spatial qualities to both residents and to all inhabitants within the surrounding city. The garden-park is composed of medium to large trees with high, floating crowns, and casually terraced platforms to provide flat areas for a variety of uses.

Opaque roofs and shading screens float, without an obvious order, offering protection and informal places for sitting, dining and merriment. The density, arrangement and differing heights of roof planes produces a variety of space and gradients of intimacy (A Pattern Language), to suit the mood and/or personality of each guest. (i.e. are you looking for a party, or would you prefer to be off to the side in the shadows ...?)

A series of slabs, cast into the cliff face, slope down, granting shade and shedding off rain. The mountain and the roofs provide shelter guests need for a short time.

Along a thin plot, public "rooms" of various character of fauna and flora, humid/dry, are linked one after another with a threshold strip of a hilly nature preserve allocated adjacent to the railway lines. The project, emphatically, avoids romanticising historical attributes such as the lines of rails which until recently covered part of the site, but rather orients itself towards resolving the problems presented, while positing a place of joy for the future.

Approximately fifty cabins are arranged, in a dispersed configuration – as in a primitive camp – utilising light-weight, mostly timber components and only punctual foundations: accommodation for travellers without a substantial impact on the flora and fauna of the existing landscape.

A single family home is planned to be built directly at the street front, as the building regulations call for, in this historic village thirty kilometres from the western coast of Sardinia. Rather than a simple offset from the street, the proposal fills the entire plot and is generally oriented inwards to three “rooms” which are open to the sky. Space is confused and thereby expanded through a myriad of dynamic views from room to room, which have varying degrees of sunlight.

The project consists of redefining and reconnecting various urban voids adjacent to the passage of a stream, creating a park with its own strength and identity. Nature becomes the founding and central event in the project to create a unique quality commonly perceived from all sides. A single architectural element, a pergola, unites and accompanies visitors on their journey, linking them in an ongoing dialogue with the land and its flora. One and the same element determines many aspects: pedestrian and cycle paths, bridges, playgrounds, sports & exercise areas.

The revered museum building by Gustav Gull is 'clothed' in a new, noble costume with the addition of an attic. The entire building is understood as a unity – the existing building and the extension are rendered in a monochrome blue. The loggia of the roof allows a view from the street up into the interior, similar to the lapel of a suit. A public loggia high above the street, with a view over the roofs of St. Gallen. The roof covers the glazed front, in the form of a colonnade, like a cloth. Under this roof is both the museum café and space for workshops or lectures. Several entrances lead from the blue loggia into a large exhibition hall. A simple box, the hall extends over the entire length of the building and its size complements a range of exhibition spaces. The height of the room and the fact that it is accessible via several entrances allow it to be used in a variety of ways.

A garden is the heart of the institution, acting first as an exterior entrance hall and then as the backdrop as students move around it from room to room on a raised, covered walkway throughout the day. The filigrane wooden structure stands out from and complements the neighboring massive residential complexes, becoming a special "house for learning" in the midst of a lush garden. This can be read as a reinterpretation of the typological contrast a school building has had throughout history: in previous times, for example, in some areas of Switzerland a traditional school house might have been constructed of stone, on the top of a ridge or hill, while surrounded by lower wooden residential buildings.

The existing structure with its serial character of columns and slabs has been preserved. Behind it is the huge Hafenbacken 1, mainly built of bricks and concrete, but with steel elements for technical aspects such as the gallery access. Our building, which has a unique character because it belongs to the industrial area, will now be part of the residential quarter on the other side of the river. It is, so to speak, part of both worlds and our proposal aims to reflect this dynamic.

An homage to the dark entrance spaces of Japanese farmhouses, blackened from the smoke of cooking, (almost) dissolving into complete shadow, yet with a small amount of light seeping in from ventilation openings ... A seemingly endless overlay of filigrane, timber elements ... Creating qualities of light similar to that of looking out of the mouth of a cave, but here, strangely, from within a small, moveable pavilion ... A moveable cave ...

With the simple gesture of extending a roof and sunshades a substantial distance past the facade of the multi-purpose hall, a meaningful space is generated which allows for interaction with the park and sports fields. An existing barn, recommended by the program to be destroyed, is re-used for storage and warm-weather activities, and forms a gate with another new building containing after-school and communal facilities. Both are linked with a trellis of plants which becomes a pergola over the path towards the nearby river. Taken individually the three buildings appear banal, but through the serial repetition of columns at their facades (actually tension members in the case of the large hall building), the ensemble recalls a classic forum – a generous offer for the public.

A transformation of a garden around an existing villa from the 1930s. The proposal contains two disparate realms, but developed with regard to each other, forming a meaningful unity. An upper portion is light-filled and enjoyed from a pavilion at the top of a slope, where the clients spend time dining with family or guests while looking down on shrubs pruned in cloud-like formations rising as the topography descends. The lower portion is at the bottom of the same slope, under the respective shrubs which gradually become higher at the back of the plot – creating a hidden, dark, shady world for walking alone or seeking introspection seated next to a quiet pool of water. One unique garden, like a body, offers the potential to satisfy desires for both convivial enjoyment and solitude.

A fountain in Naoshima is constructed of river stones from Kyoto, where we were based and could be transported in a single load – chosen for their shape, size, and surface; and as well, in turn – the specificity of their curves influence the overall character of the intervention. The reaction to water is always present, as the stones are both above and under water – fish also sometimes splash drops onto higher dry areas. Water is held both below and above ground. Finishing mortar is dyed with calligraphy ink to create a homogeneous body.

This house is on a narrow peninsula jutting out into the sea on the northern coast of Sardinia. It therefore has two faces, that to each side of the water. A column is nearly in the center of each of these faces, marking out a point for domesticity within the wild, rocky landscape around. Two wooden rooms hang from a concrete structure, one for sleeping, the other for work, where the client prefers to concentrate, in privacy. They are like caves, but are light and suspended. A pool on the roof is accessed from stairs within a central core, which also contains the bathroom and a place for cooking on an open fire.

Arriving in the vibrant world of south-east India, after a few weeks, bored working only at a desk, I quit my first internship. Desiring to build somehow, I raised money for materials, and with the help of an NGO, found a nearby village which wished to have a community centre. The residents contributed labor – some were trained masons – hence rammed earth foundations and compacted earth blocks were chosen to suit their experience. While struggling with the design (was it enough?), in a local newspaper (I have no idea why?) I read a speech by Luis Barragán (whose work I did not yet know at that time) – there were no images of his work, just the text ... and it was an epiphany.