More on Architectures
In this exhibition we want to return to the core of architecture and its potential to improve people’s lives and come up with solutions to the challenges of our time. The models compile eight different answers to what architecture is and can be. In the exhibition, we are invited to experience architectural processes. The models are architecture in different stages and scales.
– Karolina Keyzer, Architect and exhibition curator
Astrid Rohde Wang
Shelter
The Norwegian architect Astrid Rohde Wang invites us into an ongoing process where she interprets the concept of security based on the most basic building blocks of architecture. Which parts of a building are the most crucial to our survival? Can they be brought together without a common language? Can we demand anything more from an architectural structure otheer than that it encloses, protects us?
Astrid Rohde Wang’s story about the background to the model:
Lost in the Forest
It is said that in the language of the Nuer, South Sudan’s second largest ethnic group, the word for the number one thousand means ‘away in the forest’, because that is where your cows would be if you had that many.
My architectural puberty mostly took place in the 3rd world. East Africa and India. While architecture in our part of the world no longer deals with primal needs, working with resource scarcity and with precarious necessities allowed architecture to stand out as a real problem solver, with actual utility. Exotic architecture trips thus helped me to come to terms with the subject of architecture, which in many ways appeared more and more superficial during the course of my studies.
The model is a scaled-down section from our last project as students, and first project as an architectural firm – a self-build school in war-torn South Sudan. Several hours away from the nearest village and far from roads and other infrastructure. With an extreme holistic approach to the subject of architecture, the school encompassed all elementary human needs – such as safety, hygiene, freedom (women’s liberation!), community participation, identity, recreation and knowledge acquisition. Not just to make life easier, but to make life possible at all!
The primary school’s building materials were mainly dried compressed earth blocks, which the local people could produce on site, and easily assemble without much prior knowledge. The layout of the composite buildings could be adapted to existing trees on the school grounds, which in themselves formed sought-after shady, and cost-free, outdoor spaces.
The school was developed together with the local population. Starting from a clear system of spatial columns under a simple roof structure, the basic classrooms could then be expanded with additional functions described in an “architectural dictionary”, a building block system with clear rules (syntax). We produced small-scale physical models of the building blocks, which could be played with and experimented with – a method of being able to talk about architecture and compose architecture in collaboration with a local population that could neither read letters nor floor plans.
30 miles into the South Sudanese wilderness, you cannot create architecture just because it looks great. Everything must be of necessity. But in all this there is also beauty! As a tool for creating identity, belonging, dignity and permanence, aesthetics also take on a fundamental importance in the end.
– It is useful. And it’s beautiful, too, because it’s useful
– It’s beautiful. And it’s useful, too, because it’s beautiful.
Anders Wilhelmson
Love
Anders Wilhelmson is a Swedish architect and professor emeritus. Through his steel-clad model, he explores the theme of love and love for architecture. How can we adopt a modernist way of thinking, where all parts of the building are seen as essential, under contemporary conditions? How can love of architecture and its potential for innovation be expressed at a time when economic interests are too often allowed to rule over its design?
Listen to Anders Wilhelmson talk about his model and the theme love:
Anders Wilhelmsson’s thoughts on the model Love:
The model is in scale 1:7, or at least close to it (the scale was based on sheet steel dimensions) but 1:7 according to the task. My (the model’s) given room was 3x3x3 meters and, the model itself is inscribed in a cube that is 1.5×1.5×1.5 meters. It is thus part of an imaginary recursive sequence, in which we ourselves are included.
The house, and the model is supposed to be (and is) really ugly, ugly because no one sees that it really, and especially when built, is a swan. It stands alone in its room surrounded by ducks.
The description of the house is simple, and is, I believe, the realization of a modernist dream, realized in a post-modern age. A dream where floor, walls and ceiling are all equal, and where the ceiling is functionally really flat. Why didn’t Le Corbusier take that step?
The house is built with an exoskeleton of thin sheet steel (3mm) functionally reinforced with braces, like a raft or airplane. Hermetically sealed against the environment (cold) and with a minimum of details. Inside, insulation is sprayed and the inner layer is covered with plywood. The shape of the building is generated by this principle where the upper floor acts as a beam to enable the large span of the underlying rooms. So the model is built just like the house (as by Färgfabriken’s wish, steel sheets are not welded together, let the imagination do that).
Other things that the model does not account for; as an adult swan, the steel is anti-rust painted in a silvery zinc color, but this discrepancy can be seen as an image of the swan’s ongoing transformation.
Walter Hjaltested & Caterina Decker
Support
The Icelandic-Swiss architect duo Walter Hjaltested and Caterina Decker investigate the concept of support – both conceptually as an idea about the human need for embrace and social connection, and in the form of purely structural elements. Can the relationship between support and supported be understood as symbiotic or one-sided? When do two architectural elements meet – when they meet as parts of a structure, or when they become functionally interdependent?
Walter Hjaltested and Caterina Decker about the model:
The central figure holds and divides two individual paths. Two staircases ascend, intertwining spatially and structurally as they climb. Although the two staircases begin from separate points, they eventually converge at the top. When do two elements come together? Which came first, the hen or the egg?“
The architectural model titled „which came first, the hen or the egg?“ seeks to visually depict the merging of two distinct paths within a geometric framework. Resembling a staircase in form, the pathway forms a loop, creating a complex spatial sculpture when interpreted as a model. The open (exterior) and closed (interior) paths manifest as vertically interwoven masses, uniting at the top.
The model addresses the interaction between support structures and the masses, emphasizing their interdpendence rather than hierarchical dominance. Metaphorically, the cyclical image symbolizes permeability, unity, and fluidity, reinforcing mutual support within the architectural theme The scale of the model is decisively determined by the step, the architectural element on which a staircase is based. The number of steps defines the flight of stairs, which in turn defines the story heights of the model, all aligned with the human scale.
Walter Hjaltested and Caterina Decker on the exhibition and their model:
What do you think about the title of the exhibition, Architectures? How do you interpret it?
The title „Architectures” suggests a collection and dialogue of various ideas. Our goal was to create a form that spatially represents „support” and can be understood without additional context.
How have you worked with the concept of ‚support’ in relation to architecture?
We approached the concept of „support” not as a structural element like a framework, but through a spatial and social lens. Our object was designed to reference architectural elements, embodying support in both form and meaning.
What does the model mean for your practice?
We see the model as an exercise in understanding a task through a highly abstract approach, with the goal of representing a spatial principle without a specific function.
How have you approached working with your model?
We approached our model by working at the level of study models, embracing „the” first idea within the process, and working with an object that doesn’t rely on materiality or context.
What do you think is the role of architecture in a present and a future where we have to build and live within the limitations of the planet?
In both the present and the future, where we must build and live within the planet’s limitations, architecture plays a crucial role in addressing social aspects of society. These aspects have always driven architectural transformation. Our task is to prioritize and assess their importance, focusing on using resources and space in a socially and environmentally considerate manner.
Daniel Norell & Einar Rodhe
Assemblage
The Swedish architect duo Daniel Norell and Einar Rodhe approach architecture based on the theme of collection, and its significance for architecture as a cultural practice. The model here becomes a way of organizing found objects and giving them new meanings in a shared context. Is an object the same when its meaning and character are completely displaced by a human agent? Is it possible to decisively draw boundaries between a holistic structure and all its components, their origin and future?
Daniel Norell and Einar Rodhe on Gathering:
In prehistoric times, a majority of what humans consumed was gathered rather than hunted. Yet, hunting has taken precedence over gathering because hunting makes what is conventionally thought of as a good story. The hunting of mammals can amount to tales packed with action, weapons, and heroes, while the picking of berries and nuts seems mundane in comparison. I short, narratives have come to promote the drama of hunting.
Novelist Ursula K. Le Guin has proposed a different narrative, where hunting is replaced by gathering, and where the weapon is replaced by the carrier bag, the holder, or the container. A thing to put things in becomes the new story. The carrying net or basket was probably man’s first cultural device. Le Guin sought a foundation for stories that was based on the sack or bag rather than the hero or the conflict. A model for writing – and for authorship, really – that is based on gathering.
Similar to this, some architects, including ourselves, have explored gathering as an alternative foundation for architecture. Early on, this affected how we thought of our studio. Our studio is of course a place where we work – where we draw, write, make things, and so on. So, it is a place for production, like a workshop. But it is also an archive, of old models, for instance. And soon it became a storage depot for used building materials that we temporarily assembled in the studio before shipping them off. So, our studio became a thing to put things in, to borrow Le Guin’s phrasing. A carrier bag of sorts that allowed us to tie production to gathered elements, materials, and objects.
For quite some time now, we have engaged in gathering as an approach to architecture and to making. This has happened across scales, from models and furniture to buildings and environments. In Under Construction, our project for the 2019 Oslo Triennial, a city block constructed entirely from recovered materials became a way to speculate about a future conditioned by a scarcity of resources. This year, we realised Raamland, a community garden and pavilion in Bruges, Belgium that gathers wildly different categories of material to imagine an architecture of multiple origins and temporalities.
Now, one thing that makes gathering different in architecture is representation. One can look at a found object and see the thing for what it really is. A door, for example, is a door. Of course, one can also see the door from an alternative viewpoint and think that the door blade would make a great tabletop. Yet, even such an opportunistic outlook is different than seeing an object as a representation of another object, at scale. We hope that these ways of seeing overlap in our model for this exhibition at Färgfabriken. The materiality and patina of the assembled objects suggests that they should be read as real and undisguised. At the same time, these objects and assemblages may be read as architectural models at scale.
Gathering as an approach to architecture turns locating, selecting, and pairing entities into acts of design. Found objects come to life depending on how we see them, as things in and of themselves, as representations, as well as in relation to each other. Some see a futuristic city; others see a playground. The model shifts the reading of the objects and gives rise to new associations and new trains of thought. The project suggests that architecture can be viewed as a temporary gathering of elements and materials that all have an origin and a future.
Reference: Ursula K. Le Guin, The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction, Ignota, 2019. First published in Women of Vision, 1988.
Daniel Norell and Einar Rodhe on the exhibition and their model:
What do you think about the title of the exhibition, Architectures? How do you interpret it?
The title suggests a pluralistic approach, as opposed to highlighting a specific idea or movement. The theme also ties in with our model of creating small architectural assemblages, from widely differing found objects.
How have you worked with the concept of ‘collection’ (and ‘assemblage’) in relation to architecture?
We are interested in collecting as an alternative model for design. We build a collection, and then we test the collection as architecture.
What does the model mean for your practice?
We have always worked a lot in models. Since a model is a representation of something other than itself (often a building), there is always an openness to how it can be read. This freedom of interpretation is an important part of our design process, as well as in the reading of the model in the exhibition space.
How have you approached working with your model?
We have twisted and turned the objects we collected and interpreted them as different architectures at different scales. We then arranged them on a table, in a landscape, or in a city plan. Sometimes several objects form a new whole, in other cases the object stands as it came, but in a new context. We are interested in the moments when there is some kind of shift in the understanding of the object, and when unexpected relationships arise between the objects.
What do you think is the role of architecture in a present and a future where we have to build and live within the limitations of the planet?
We hope that our model contributes to architecture being seen as a temporary assemblage of elements and materials that all have an origin and a future. This contrasts with a model that until recently was based on extraction and disposal.
Daniel Johansson
Pre-use
The Swedish architect Daniel Johansson works with the concept of pre-use, usage before re-use, in his work with the compilation of unique fragments from several ongoing projects. Does an object’s past context matter for its future use? What determines if something should be seen as a pre-stage versus a complete project? What constitutes the true belonging of an architectural fragment, and how does this affect our view of sustainability in the use of materials?
Work-in-progress pictures:
Eveliina Sarapää
Belonging
The Finnish-Sámi architect Eveliina Sarapää examines how heritage and belonging are reflected in architecture. Her model stems from her Sami roots in Ohcejohka and is based on the Buođđu, a structure traditionally used to build salmon ponds. The model invites conversations about ownership and identity. How do our buildings reflect the view of cultural heritage – and whose cultural heritage is represented? What values do we place in the traditional elements of architecture – the aesthetic as well as the functional?
About Belonging, by Eveliina Sarapää:
“A sense of belonging is one of humanity’s most basic needs.”
As a Sámi architect, “belonging” in relation to architecture means having a deep connection to Sámi culture. I explore Sámi architecture through models that simultaneously pass on our cultural heritage and explore new ways to innovate within our traditions, creating modern structures that resonate with Sámi values and philosophy.
Our material culture is based on Duodji. Simplistically, Duodji refers to handicrafts and utilitarian items made from various natural materials, but for the Sámi, Duodji is much more. I love how Sámi artist Outi Pieski describes the profound significance of Duodji in a 2024 Tate St Ives exhibition interview:
“Duodji is doing and making, crafting and creating. It is a holistic concept that preserves the Sámi philosophy, values, and spirituality and connects them with practical skills. In Sámi culture, material is not seen as passive but as an active author. Material items hold energy and power. The energy comes from the material itself, the maker who has transformed the material through skills, care, and love, and the user who has used and lived with the item and its power. Duodji is a way of revitalizing connections between past and future generations.”
The creation of Duodji involves a deep reciprocity with nature, profound respect for the available materials, and the knowledge and skills passed down from generation to generation. I am interested in the question:” What kind of architecture would emerge from the principles of Duodji?“
My Sámi family belongs to the river Sámi. Sámi communities have lived along the Deatnu River for thousands of years, relying on water for their livelihood, spiritual practices, and traditional knowledge. The Deatnu River is “the vein” of Sápmi. Along the Teno River, where my Sámi family is from, a recurring symbol in Duodji is a pattern that represents the river.
The models ‘Buođđu’ and ‘Eatnu’ are both connected to my own Sámi roots at the Deatnu River. The construction Buođđu is an architectural study inspired by my grandfather’s salmon dam. Eatnu is an exploration of how the philosophy of Duodji could be developed into a piece of contemporary Sámi architecture.
These models represent my belonging to Sápmi.
Eveliina Sarapää on the exhibition and her models:
What do you think about the title of the exhibition, Architectures? How do you interpret it?
I think it describes very well what we have been doing here!
I interpet it emphasizes the diversity and variety in design philosophies, techniques, and conceptual frameworks that each architect explores through their installation.
How have you worked with the concept of ‘belonging’ in relation to architecture?
As a Sámi architect, “belonging” in relation to architecture means having a deep connection to Sámi culture. I explore Sámi architecture through models that simultaneously pass on our cultural heritage and explore new ways to innovate within our traditions, creating modern structures that resonate with Sámi values and philosophy.
How have you approached working with your model?
In the last years I have started to think what it means to be a sámi architect and what could be my contribution to sámi culture as a sámi architect.
I think we sámis are on our way of figuring out our own contemporary architecture. We talk about it and we consider it through study and art like here at Arkitekturtriennalen. it is an on-going decolonization process of architecture, it’s just a matter of time, when sámi people declare ownership of the architecture of their built environment too.
What does the model mean for your practice?
Through models, I can concretely experiment with my thoughts about Sámi architecture. It brings tangibility to the discussion on Sámi architecture.
What do you think is the role of architecture in a present and a future where we have to build and live within the limits of the planet?
Architecture’s role is to change our perception of architecture and expand it beyond aesthetics and functionality. The entire construction industry is in a situation where attitudes towards materials and nature must change. I think the answers and new ways to see the solutions to the future challenges of construction could be found close, from indigenous peoples like sámi.
Christin Svensson
Public space
Christin Svensson, Swedish architect and teacher, explores Stockholm’s public urban space with her model in an inviting and playful way. Her jumping-jack-like construction expresses the interconnected network of the city, and the complex social relations it holds. How can we understand the city based on its interstices – the space between the facades? How does the design of the space affect our movements? Which aspects of public urban space give us greater freedom? Who limits us?
About the creation of the model:
These sketches and photos show an architectural model in progress. Cardboard sketch templates are sawn out of a former living room floor, and assembled into a model in scale 1:600. The model shows Odenplan, Odengatan, Sveavägen, Sergels torg, Kungsgatan and Stureplan.
Buildings that define the urban space are represented solely by their facades, semi-public buildings such as churches, the city library and the concert hall are represented by volumes.
The ‘Public Space: Walking City’ model is presented upright and has moving parts – like a puppet figure. The aim is to open up to a reading of how our urban living room is figuratively and proportionally connected. Inspiration comes from situationism, from Guy Debord and Asger Jorn’s collage ‘Naked City’ from 1959 – and from our streets and squares as a collective space for both urban life and demonstrations.
Christin Svensson on the exhibition and her model:
What do you think about the title of the exhibition, Architectures? How do you interpret it?
That anything goes under it, and that there are different approaches to architecture.
How have you worked with the concept of ‘spaces’ in relation to architecture?
My starting point is public space – the empty space between buildings in the city. Public spaces are important because they are our common space – where we are. It is interesting to see that space as form. My contribution is both parts of model and figure.
Based on the concept of ‘in-between’, I have worked with the city as our common living room. For the model I have used my neighbor’s old parquet floor, so all the streets in the model consist of parquet floors and can thus be seen as a kind of living room. It’s fun to remove the building volumes in a model. And I think it’s important to keep an eye on the proportions of the room; it’s not the appearance that’s most important. The painted volumes in the model represent the public buildings, such as the City Library and the Concert Hall. The volumes that are not painted but have a glossy finish represent the semi-public buildings, such as the churches. The private buildings and rooms are represented only as surfaces facing the street, inaccessible.
What does the model mean for your practice?
The model is a sketch. I like the sketchy look. It is in the model that you work. The model is the working method and not the end product.
How have you approached working with your model?
I have thought of the city not as a collection of houses but as a collection of spaces where we can be.
The model represents the public spaces around and between Odenplan, Sveavägen, Stureplan and Sergels torg, among others. Why this particular section of the city?
I see it as Stockholm’s living room. Sveavägen also has many of the different architectural eras symbolically represented – the different visions of the future of what Stockholm wanted to be can be seen there.
I also thought about the shapes: in these places, and in the model, we find the triangle, the square, the cross, the oval, etc. Stockholm and the model are and will be proportional and formally secure through those parts. There are also several associations one can draw from the model and the figure. Is it a musician lifting his instrument? Is it a demonstrator holding a megaphone to his mouth, walking in the exhibition space and in the city – perhaps along Sveavägen as part of the many demonstrations that take place there, in our living room?
What do you think is the role of architecture in a present and a future where we have to build and live within the limits of the planet?
I think you should dig where you are and make the most of what you have, take care of what is already there so that it can last a long time. I also believe in using things a little more straightforwardly, and not processing as much material as today. That’s how I personally want to work in the future – a little more rough.
Eeugenia Bevz & Konstantin Mirosh
Scenes
Eugenia Bevz and Konstantin Mirosh are an architect duo based in Stockholm, with roots in Ukraine. In their collage model, they study different scenarios, function and experience of the neighborhood as a typology. Based on the theme of stories, how our urban lifestyles can be reflected in architecture is explored. What does the contrast between courtyard and facade say about our experiences of diversity and individualism? What does the rhythm look like in the interaction between home and collective, and how can the very design of the neighborhoods affect it?
Eugenia and Konstantin on the name of the exhibition and their thoughts on the choice of materials:
On Neighbourhood episodes by Eugenia Bevz and Konstantin Mirosh:
Stockholm Series: City Block Episodes is an urban narrative exploring rhythm, diversity, and nuance through an expressive, formative composition of a city block
The approximately 2x2x2m model depicts the character of a Stockholm city block. It is composed of three distinct volumes rendered in three corresponding colors. The city block volume is placed on its side, revealing the contrast between the volumetric diversity of the inner yard and the ordered and unified character of the outer surface. This contrast is typical for Stockholm blocks: to the external viewer its image appears as reduced, ordered and monolithic; to those with access to the inner yard, it is more complex, spontaneous and diverse. The volume forms a cubic shape composed from 222 units that represent apartments, layered in 6 rows – representative of 6 floors. The city block contributes to the iconic cityscape image of Stockholm. Many architects challenge the dogmatic urban structure of the Stockholm city block.
The model’s structure also relates to the peculiar Färgfabriken big hall: from one side oriented vis-a-vis the wall, the model is solid with three large openings, relating to the exterior windows of the hall. From the other side, the model is largely transparent, composed of finer elements – relating to Färgfabrikens intricate structural framework.
The model is built from ECO-certified OSB3 boards and painted with biodegradable, VOC- and microplastic-free organic paint, emphasizing a commitment to sustainability and circularity of materials and focus for innovation in the building industry.
The color plays an important role, highlighting the introduction of a building scale to the block structure. The palette is characteristic of the Stockholm context
The installation will have a second life after the exhibition, changing its ‘scale of domesticity’: the model will be disassembled into 23 composite units and be repurposed as a domestic furniture