KÅRK №46

EDITOR’S NOTE

Daedalus is an old white man

Daedalus is a genious.

Daedalus is an architect.

Daedalus is a craftsman.

Daedalus is a refugee.

Daedalus is a father.

Daedalus is a myth.

Daedalus is the one who builds. His hand draws, thinks, transforms. He shapes labyrinths, wings and machines, with blood and sweat.He creates solutions, even for his exile, a consequence of his designs. His story is one of ambition and ingenuity, yet also of failure, loss, and escape. What does Daedalus mean today? In an era of rapid technological shifts, ecological crisis, and blurred boundaries, how do we build with care, with intelligence, with responsibility. As architecture students, we work within the tensions of creation and consequence, control and surrender. We seek not only to construct, but to question:

What is the role of the builder in a world of constant transformation? How do we navigate the ethical dilemmas of innovation? And what happens when our own creations turn against us?

At the time of the open call for Daedalus, all we had was a name — a mythical figure, a builder, a fugitive. We didn’t know what to expect.

What we received was a rich collection of drawings, essays, conversations and reflections.

We are proud to present issue 46 of KÅRK, shaped by the questions and creativity of its contributors.

We hope it can inspire you. - The editorial team

KÅRK is a non-profit magazine provided free of charge to architecture and design students across Scandinavian countries, and any others with interest in the fields of design and architecture. It is made in collaboration between the students at Aarhus School of Architecture and the Royal Danish Academy.

We release a new magazine once every semester—each exploring a different theme.

CHAPTER

BACHELOR

DAEDALUS

CONTENT

#01

#02 #03

#04

#05

#06 #07

#08

#09

#10

#11

#12

#13

#14

#15

#16

#17

Monolit 2065

Unversehrt.

On the 11th - from street level to apartment Slugten

The tale of Daedalus

In conversation Alicia Lazzaroni

Air pavilion

Mellemrum

A nomade’s fluxkit - steampunk edition På gyngende grund

100 words

Alcmene Sphinx

Entitled Kobbertryk

Only in our memories

Arkitektura moribund

Ancient kiosk

Blood stain on pine

Selma Bruun Bisgaard

Finn Britze, Johanna Beimann

Morten Jensen

Tróndur Johnsson Fuglø

Joanne Jacobsen, Magnus Krautwald, Timothy Martin, Viggo Garfiel

Ida Bjerga

Amalie Bunde-Pedersen

August Hugo Bonnesen, Oliver Fallenkamp

Elena Thüring

Birke Langkjær Jakobsen

Harald Styrup Jantzen

Frida Schmidt Kristjansdottir

Aksel Smith

Julia Schmalfeldt, Luzie Kutz

Emma-Cecelia Moran

CHAPTER

MASTER

CONTENT

#18

#19

#20

#21

#22

#23

#24

#25

#26

#27

#28

#29

#30

#31

#32

#33

#34

#35

#36

The tale of Daedalus

In conversation Søren Nielsen

Skæve prioriteringer

Reflections of responsablility

Pocket hole

The last adventure to heaven

Byen vågner

Ikarus’ arm

Transformation maskinfabrik

Fish anxious

The obsolete monument

The tale of Daedalus

In conversation Jonathan Foote

Kulturhus på Nexø havn

Wander wonder

Earth chair

Arrival and office space

Floating minesweeper

Land raum liebe

A (need for) new suburban dreams(s)

Recommandations

Ida Bjerga

Patrick Pankalla

Pernille Christensen

Joachim Hallgren

Alberte Alstrup

Jonathan Foote

Jule Celine Franssen

Gabriela, Aysel, Frederik, Karl-Emil, Karthik

Marius Wold

Jonathan Bashari

Theo Davies-Jones

Mette Korte Martinsen

Anders Rovsing

Yoyo Dell

Tina Todorovic, Mathis Lehna

Arabella Aabrams

BACHELOR

MONOLIT 2O65

SELMA BRUUN BISGAARD ARKITEKTSKOLEN AARHUS

‘Monolit 2065 leger med dualiteten af det byggede og det groede, der skaber livsrum til en sameksistens for både mennesker og andre væsner.

Akso, konstruktion

I 2065, bliver det altafgørende at bo og leve helt anderledes end vi gør i dag. vi skal: bo flere sammen, leve i tæt relation til naturens processer, give plads til/indtænke andre levende organismer og andre naturlige rytmer/systemer end vores. Vi skal lære at bo og leve steder uden at ødelægge dem. I princippet er vi bare gæster...

Sameksistens bliver en nødvendighed. der ligger så meget viden i naturen og dens processer som vi kan lære uendeligt meget af - og som vi skal lære af, hvis vi forsat vil eksistere. For at lære af naturen må vi sanse i langt højere grad end det moderne menneske gør i dag. vi skal tæt på nuet og vores nære omgivelser.

Så vil forståelse og indsigt øges - både for de problematikker vi står i, men måske også for løsningerne herpå.

I denne bolig er sameksistens indtænkt på forskellige måder - både i valg af materiale og i måden hvorpå boligen er opbygget.

Materialevalg: stampet lerjord er anvendt til alle de bærende mure i boligen. Lerjorden er en af fremtidens alternativer til beton, da det kan bære og udleder markant mindre CO2. Derudover har det gode egenskaber i forhold til regulering af tempertur, fugt, akustik og beskytter mod brand. æstetisk har lerjorden en taktilitet der kan varierer og skabe mange forskellige atmosfæriske oplevelser alt efter hvordan den er behandlet. på samme tid kan muren binde inderum samme med uderum via ens overflader. Altså bliver nogle af disse grænser mellem naturen udenfor og mennesket indenfor brudt.

Boligens opbygning: boligen er bygget op med tanke på at forstyrre jordens processer mindst muligt - derfor den vertikale monolit og skruepæle som fundament. Nederst er indtænkt værkstedsrum som kan åbne helt op til skoven, for hermed at være i direkte kontakt og invitere til sameksistens. Tænk boligen som et redskab til at interagere med omgivelserne på bedst mulig vis. Tænk også boligen som et form for møbel i skoven. Den er en del af sine omgivelser - vertikal som et træ. Tilknyttet boligen er en Skovfyr. den står foran indgangspartiet. boligen er bygget op med henblik på at kunne observarer dette træ fra forskellige vinkler: Mellem stammer, mellem grene og i kronen. hvad gør det ved os, og det vi ser på, at observerer det fra forskellige vinkler? Ændre vi syn på træet alt efter om vi ser det nedefra eller oppe fra? Forstår vi det bedre?

UNVERSEHRT.

Free of damage, unharmed, unscathed. A creative interim use of materials as a self-experiment.

`How do we build in a world where we really shouldn’t build anymore?´ – a quote from one of our professors that opened a lecture in third semester, capturing in a nutshell what we all know.

We, among many, are convinced that the construction industry needs to undergo a fundamental shift, to find new, futureproof solutions. This conviction is something we tested ourselves, on a micro-level, in this self-experiment.

How do we develop, through extensive self-experimentation, a performative, temporary architecture that raises awareness of responsible material use?

How do we sensitively transform materials into space?

And how can we alter human interaction with their surroundings and, as a result, the impact on our environment?

Our project emerged from these questions.

In July 2024, after six months of planning, we built a pavilion for the Headland Festival Hamburg. With the help of many, it was completed within a day and a half.

The structure, alongside our transparent communication of this experimental process, aimed to creatively sensitize for our values and beliefs, triggering conversations, inspiring thoughts, clarifying ideas, and telling our story.

Additionally, it served as a petite venue in the center of the site, hosting workshops and talks. Later on, it was used as a refuge from hectic surroundings.

Being both – inviting and secluded.

We approached the project with sensitivity and environmental mindfulness, embracing a fresh perspective: materials could, but did not have to, be new. The priority was that building materials could come from diverse origins and afterward return to those sources (or move on elsewhere). We considered `before´ and `after´, envisioning material journeys where our use was merely a small stopover.

For months we looked for, found and collected materials all over the city. L-profiles from a metalworking company and ordinary roof battens bought at a hardware market functioned as our basic structure.

Four profiles joined with screws forming a pillar, battens clamped horizontally at three levels. Former advertising banners made up a semitransparent boundary of the space to the outside. Providing privacy while allowing the curious a glimpse inside.

Secured with trampoline springs, they were quick and easy to set up. Overhead, trade fair carpets threaded through the battens formed a roof, creating a warm atmosphere with its sunny yellow color. Inside, heavy-duty shelves were shaped into a stand facing a presentation area made from metal grids. Beverage crates stored on the shelves served as additional seating.

The entire structure was braced with tension straps. A green cross under the roof and orange connections to several heavy concrete weights on the sides. For height adjustment and additional stability on uneven asphalt, buckets filled with gravel served as flexible foundations.

The (symbolic) preservation of material value was paramount to us. We accepted everything in the state and condition we received it and left it untouched. Connections were reversible to ensure our materials remained free of damage, unharmed, intact. All our materials, therefore, returned to their lenders unharmed or found a new home.

A temporary, borrowed architecture.

We also engaged deeply with what we see as the essential sources of our built environment: idea and material. A classic chicken-and-egg problem, where ideas alternated with the materials needed to realize them, and found materials spurred new ideas.

Our goal was to visibly and honestly connect the elements we used, maintaining transparency regarding their identity and origin.

This approach promised us an efficient, comprehensible, and, above all, sustainable solution – and a new aesthetic based on new principles.

Once a suitable match between idea and material was found, we brought it from theory into practice, testing it to verify feasibility, suitability, and significance.

Our project does not claim to be complete. It was simply a leap into the deep end, from which we gained all we could.

What mattered most was documenting our process as clearly as possible, so everybody interested could take part in the experiences and stories of our journey through the challenges of ecological and social sustainability. And with that, we made a statement of our values and visions for sustainable architecture and the responsibility of us humans to our world.

That was our small contribution.

That was unversehrt.

ON THE 11 TH —

FROM STREET LEVEL TO APARTMENT

MORTEN JENSEN AARHUS SCHOOL OF ARCHITECTURE

All spaces and rooms are interconnected and intertwined whether we are aware of it or not. Everything exists in relation to something else. Every single room in an apartment building is part of a larger spatial composition.

This axonometric drawing is part of an larger first-year assignment, centered around one’s apartment as a ’micro-cosm’ across different scales. More specifically this drawing depicts the relationship between my room and the street.

TRÓNDUR JOHNSSON FUGLØ ARKITEKTSKOLEN AARHUS

Tankegangen bag projektet er, at man kan bo samme sted hele livet. At når man flytter ind, har man måske ikke behov for at kunne lukke mere af end et værelse og toilettet, men itakt med at man kommer længere hen i livet og eventuelt får børn og/eller behov for at have et hjemmekontor eller et andet rum hvor man kan trække sig, kan man sætte vægge op, og dele sin bolig op i mindre stykker af samme bolig. Og så itakt med at børnene flytter ud, eller at man ikke har behov for lige så meget rumopdeling, kan man fjerne væggene og tilføre de m2 tilbage til boligens udelte rum.

Placeringen af projeket på søjler, der holder det oppe over slugten, så at boligerne kommer op i samme højde som trækronerne. Dette er dels for at gøre brug af den naturlige klimaregulering træerne giver mulighed for, og dels for at give en fornemmelse af at kunne bo blandt trækronerne. Et tænkt drømmescenarie er at en fulg vælger at bygge sin rede udenfor et af boligernes vinduer, og at boligens beboere dermed har mulighed for at være en del af fuglens og fugleungernes liv.

I midten af projektet findes et stort fælles areal, hvor der er plads til fællesskabet, og at man kan være sammen med de andre man bor sammen med. Tanken er at man som udgangspunkt spiser aftensmaden sammen, men i og med at der ikke er noget fælles køkken, men hellere at hver enkelt lejlighed har sit eget køkken, har man også mulighed for at trække sig fra fællesskabet, hvis man på en dag eller en tidsperiode har behov for det.

i. Bound

Daedalus is trapped.

A prisoner of his own expertise, confined within walls he did not build. The stone is ancient, damp with history, swallowing light and sound. The air is thick with salt, and the cries of distant seagulls cut through the stillness—mocking, or calling. He listens. He waits.

The walls do not simply imprison; they enforce order. This is the way things have always been. The labyrinth was his design, but this tower is his sentence. He understands structure, constraints, the way systems hold people in place. He has seen it before— in palaces, in prisons, in the minds of those who rule. There is no exit built into a system that thrives on control.

He walks the same circles, his feet tracing patterns in the dust. A body in motion, a mind unraveling. Here, movement leads nowhere, and thought spirals inward. He has built machines, labyrinths, wonders—but now he builds nothing.

He is bound by the weight of his own knowledge, trapped not just by the king’s decree, but by the limits imposed upon him—by rulers, by stone, by his own past decisions. His son, Icarus, watches. His hands, young and restless, clutch at nothing.

Something must change.

IN CONVERSATION ALICIA LAZZARONI

HOW DO WE RESPOND? FROM WHERE DO WE BEGIN?

Climate crisis is undoubtedly real. That’s our starting point. It’s undeniable. It’s scary. And it’s the imperative concern of our time.

To confront it, within our disciplinary field, I believe it’s necessary that we take a step back and question the way architecture operates. But we cannot do it if we continue to work with the same tools that have shaped its current form. The architecture that we know has been modeled by the ‘modern project’, which, quoting thinkers like Zygmunt Bauman, can be understood as a project of dominance and (often violent) ordering. This has long been a fundamental anthropocentric and humanist endeavour, placing humans at the top of the ‘species pyramid’, in line with a Western, enlightenment-driven worldview that has prioritised very select ideas of progress and rejected others. But today, the climate crisis is making this model crack, showing all its limits and shortcomings. The infra-structures that we have made, to simplistically ‘order’ nature, are breaking, spilling, contaminating, revealing their inherent ferality. To echo concerns of the research collective MOULD, in their project ‘Architecture is Climate’, if architecture has been tied to the modern idea of progress, and progress is now in crisis, then architecture as we know it is also in crisis. So, how do we respond? From where do we begin?

ATTUNING TO NON-HUMANS.

A starting point is to re-include those who have been previously excluded, and non-humans are at the top of the list. To learn how to bring a much less abstracted idea of nature closer to our attention, the work of a few scholars who call themselves ‘more-than-human’ anthropologists could be very handy. For example, anthropologist Anna Tsing, best known for her book ‘The Mushroom at the End of the World’, teaches us how to attune ourselves to non-humans with different forms of knowledge. This concept of attunement is an intuitive one: to tune with, to tune into—to align one’s perception with another’s presence. This idea has faced criticism: How can a human attune to the nonhuman? Are we not always limited by our own - very human - perspective? Tsing’s response draws from her anthropological studies, particularly with the Meratus people, a tribe living in the remote mountains of South Kalimantan, in Indonesia. She was not Meratus—beyond being human, they shared no common language, no shared ways of life. Yet, through lived experience, she trained herself to perceive their world differently, adapting her senses to understand their ways of being. This process—immersing oneself in another’s perspective—is something that can be developed. One can ‘hang out’ with one’s subjects, spend time with them, and observe them closely. Through this, a deeper sensitivity and intimacy emerge. And as humans, we are not limited to our bare senses. We have tools—prosthetics of perception: microscopes, sensors, and other instruments—that expand our capacity to attune. Being human, through the words of Anna Tsing, should not be seen as a limitation but rather a starting point from which we can learn to perceive differently.

CAN WE EMBED THESE IDEAS INTO ARCHITECTURAL EDUCATION? TURN THEM INTO ‘OPERATIONAL’ METHODS?

I suggest that prototypes are excellent tools to ‘hang out’ with our nonhuman subjects, because they allow us for embodied experiences emerging at the intersection of different forms of knowledge, where analytical and research-based expertise is intertwined with more spontaneous and handson processes. In Studio 3, we had many students working with prototypes as a form of attunement. For example, Kristina Nielsen Foulkes, a current afgangstudent, in one of her past projects followed beer brewing waste byproducts and local birds’ preference for seeds and cereals, to design the recipe of a nutritious sacrificial layer for rammed walls made of seeds and husks, to be washed out slowly in winter when bird food is more scarce and

rain abundant. A series of empirical explorations supported her practice of more-than-human attunement: she visited farms, understood the abundant use of pesticides in the cultivation of grains and their impact on birdlife, and simultaneously reflected on the grain industry’s multiple byproducts. She talked to beer brewers, collected husks, and tested recipes exploring different binders, but she also tried to feed birds with nutritionally appropriate seeds. As a result, the sacrificial layer had a seasonal behavior, proposing an unusual negotiation between different needs: the diet of urban birds, the production of husks, and the humid climate of Denmark. Of course, it’s quite speculative, but it’s the thinking behind that is important: can we envision projects whose imagination arises from the intersection of multiple desires and concerns, instead of ‘in isolation’?

When we stop abstracting and start attuning, our tolerance for modes of extraction fundamentally shifts, and we start to pay more attention to the landscape traces that the building industry leaves. That’s why I always suggest reading the work of Anna Tsing, if you are interested in developing an ecological understanding of our world. Her theory is tangible because it is rooted in landscape ecology. She studies landscapes as a means of understanding the Anthropocene, right where human and non-human stories mix. When we observe from a distance—looking at the world from above— we risk homogenising perspectives and losing complexity. But by observing closer, from the ground up, we can develop ideas that don’t impose top-down theories but instead emerge through friction, discussion, and engagement. In her work, Tsing frequently uses the terms assemblage and patches. Assemblage refers to the different elements that exist within a given landscape patch, that is a portion of landscape with specific characteristics. Imagine a patch as a piece of soil—its assemblage includes worms, roots, fungi, and everything coexisting there. She explains how ecologists study these assemblages not by pre-imposing relationships but by observing how interactions unfold— are they mutualistic, parasitic, or symbiotic. Tsing and others argue that relationships emerge rather than being predefined, challenging the way we categorise and structure the world.

If we challenge the idea of a building as an autonomous entity and instead view it as something connected, embedded, and multi-scalar, it shifts our entire approach. Buildings are part of vast construction ecologies spanning across multiple contexts. They are multi-temporal, involving processes with different rhythms and timelines. And they are more-than-human, not only in the sense that they interact with living organisms but also in how materials— rock, limestone, forests, timber, etc.—exist within complex networks of interdependence. If we embrace this perspective, buildings shapeshift— they become artifacts embedded in entangled dependencies and real-world contingencies. Designing a building, then, becomes more like designing within many landscapes. And, once we experience those landscapes, our perception changes even more. For example, if you learn about a forest, it becomes harder to see trees merely as a commodity to be cut and extracted. This re-enchantment of the literal—re-examining things as they truly are—is crucial to mobilising a different kind of architectural imagination, which we can argue is more ecological.

BUILDINGS AS LANDSCAPES.

NOW, BRINGING THIS BACK TO ARCHITECTURE AFTER THIS SHORT DETOUR—CAN WE THINK OF BUILDINGS AS LANDSCAPE PATCHES, RATHER THAN ISOLATED AND ABSTRACTED OBJECTS?

DESIGNING AS BUILDING ALLIANCES

Maps are powerful tools for moving away from a singular, monolithic narrative of what a building ‘is’, towards an understanding of its plural storylines. Why am I saying so? As scholars like Shannon Mattern suggest, maps navigate and orient, but also conceal and persuade. They are not innocent documents, but powerful cultural technologies. So, by mapping buildings as imbricated socioenvironmental facts, we can actually ‘re-learn’ what they are. The challenge, of course, is managing the overwhelming nature of this inquiry, as so many stories, materials, processes, and flows mix in buildings—where do we start? Where do we stop? In school, that depends on your concerns, or the agenda of the studio, which should set a hierarchy of objectives. In Studio 3, we work a lot with these kinds of ‘maps’ as they are very useful for thinking-with the space-time ‘concretion’ that a building is. For example, Anne Sofie Ravnsbæk Geertsen, who is also doing her thesis right now, started one of her studio projects wishing to become more ‘rubble literate’, learning the complexities and absurdities embedded in typical practices of demolition of concrete buildings. This process of research through mapping, trying to understand how concrete is made, how many types are typically used, but also how buildings are demolished and where all that waste goes, was fundamental to developing her design project, where rubble was intentionally used in different conglomerations depending on its constituent properties. To be able to follow supply chains to places where we are not totally aware of, think about logistics and industrial processes, design for longer durations, carefully planning for reuse and recycle scenarios, is, I would argue, as important as the capacity of designing a well-proportioned space. And, with this, I don’t want to diminish traditional architectural skills, but to enrich them with more matters of concern, to ‘upskill’ them.

I think it’s crucial for students to question the entanglement between architecture and the climate crisis, and to embrace their imagination to challenge current dominant paradigms. But it’s not, quoting again the nice work of MOULD Collective, ‘the glorified imagination of the pure genius, or the unbounded imagination of the pure speculation’. It’s an imagination that works out from what already exists, that designs on behalf of others, that rehearses new alliances. It’s a collaborative imagination built together. And we must remember—we are not working alone. We exist within an ecosystem of people with shared concerns. Architects are just one set of agents among many. Ecological questions are inherently transdisciplinary; nothing can be tackled in isolation. Agricultural thinker Wendell Berry speaks of ‘solving the pattern’ rather than ‘solving problems’. He argues that problems are never isolated—they exist within networks of interconnected issues. The idea that we can simply ‘solve’ something in isolation is a fantasy; every action ripples downward, affecting something else.

By observing the world closely, paying attention to what is already there, and perceiving it in its connectedness, we open up possibilities. Find the gap in the present, stretch it, and begin to imagine new futures.

AIR PAVILION

ARKITEKTSKOLEN AARHUS

Intentionen med Air Pavilion er at skabe et midlertidigt rum, hvor festivalgængere kan mødes i og omkring et indbydende sted, der har en rolig og eftertænksom atmosfære, afskåret visuelt og auditivt fra resten af festivalpladsen.

Samlingprincip 1:25

En let og stabil struktur af trælægter & lukket bånd fyldt ud med luftpuder skaber et blødt og omsluttende interiør. Sandsække fæstner konstruktionen til jorden & fleksible luftfyldte møbler giver mulighed for at sidde og ligge ned. Konstruktionen giver mulighed for at træde ud af den til tider hektiske festivalstemning og ind i en drømmende verden, hvor man kan fokusere på eftertænksomhed, at møde nye mennesker eller tage en pause.

Installationen består af upcyclede trælægter oprindeligt frasorteret i træproduktionen, samt vævet polyesterbånd, sandsække & luftpuder kendt fra transportsektoren. Disse elementer bliver sammensat til letvægts byggemoduler, der kan forbindes til hinanden, sammenført ved tryk fra luftpuderne alene. Dette fører til, at pavillonen kan sammensættes på forskellige måder, hvilket giver fleksibilitet og mulighed for at tilpasse pavillonen til den givne kontekst og specifikke behov for festivalrummet.

Centralt for projektet er brugen af bæredygtige materialer, der enten er upcyclede eller ikke er blevet modificeret, sådan at de i fremtiden kan bruges igen i deres oprindelige form eller i en anden kontekst. Desuden har design for disassembly været en måde at skabe et rum der kan opstå i én konfiguration og genopstå i en ny.

Pavillonen kan konstrueres og nedtages på kort tid, af så f å som to personer på en dag, med en trykluftpumpe som det eneste nødvendige værktøj. Efter brug kan modulerne skilles ad og flatpackes til fremtidig brug.

Projektet er opført på: Northside Festival, Aarhus, Juni 2024 O-days Festival, København, August 2024 Plaza festival, Aarhus, August 2024

Billeder taget af Timothy Martin

Aksonometri 1:50

OBJEKTER

MELLEMRUM

AFSTANDEN MELLEM TO GENSTANDE SOM AT BESKRIVE EN PAUSE REFLEKSION HVILE ELLER FORANDRING

MELLEM TO PUNKTER SOM I DET KAN OGSÅ BRUGES MERE ABSTRAKT VOR DER ER PLADS TIL

ELLER EN AFSTAND DET KAN VÆRE FYSISK SOM I TIDEN MELLEM TO BEGIVENHEDER ELLER SINDET

‘MELLEMRUM’ REFERERER TIL ET TOMRUM

ELLER BEGIVENHEDER ELLER TIDSMÆSSIG, ELLER SYMBOLISERE DE RUM I LIVET

Studie af plan for at forstå samspil mellem rum, boliger og fritstående volumener. En undersøgelse af proportion, form og antal. En søgen efter balance, hvor fællesskab og udsyn, privatliv og nærhed væves sammen til en harmonisk helhed.

Studie 01

Placering vest | Fem mini-huse

Fem enkeltstående enheder

Studie 02

Placering vest | Fem mini-huse

Fem enkeltstående enheder | Én delt enhed

Studie 03

Placering vest | Fem mini-huse

Fem enkeltstående enheder | Én delt enhed

Studie 04

Placering vest | Fem mini-huse

Seks enkeltstående enheder | Én delt enhed

Studie 05

Placering vest og øst | Fire mini-huse

Seks enkeltstående enheder | Én delt enhed

Studie 06

Placering vest | Tre mini-huse

Fire enkeltstående enheder | Ingen delt enhed

Studie 07

Placering vest | Fem mini-huse

Fem enkeltstående enheder | Én delt enhed

Studie 08

Placering vest | Fire mini-huse

Fem enkeltstående enheder | Én delt enhed

| Grundplan | 1-50

A NOMADE’S FLUXKIT STEAMPUNK EDITION

AMALIE BUNDE-PEDERSEN AARHUS SCHOOL OF ARCHITECTURE

Before going on the study trip of first year to Berlin, we got assigned to make a fluxkit. The fluxkit’s purpose was for personal use, and was a tool to encompass the studies made of the city during the field trips. I was lucky to make a small collaboration with my brother Wiljo Leather and incorporate leather as a major element in the kit.

This was my take on the assignment: A Nomade’s Fluxkit - Steampunk Edition The concept idea of the kit was to have all the essensials to make observations and bring them into life with one little box. In continuation, I wanted to be able to do it anywhere and anytime - hence the title `A

Nomades Fluxkit...´. The steampunk genre was not intentional, but after seeing the final kit, there was no doubt that it could be a part of Victorian science fiction world.

During study trip:

One of the ways I wanted to capture the city was though mirroring. I wanted to show different perspectives and play with the phrase `the other side of the coin´. It was also a reminder for me to keep in mind, that the way you experience a space can change, if you change your focal point.

Post study trip:

All the material I collected from the trip is within the fluxkit. The

sketches and physical things are inside the box. Also, all the relevant photos I took is in the USB in the lid of the fluxkit. The photos include the mirroring of the city as well as a specific stroll i did through the cityhere my focus was on finding ways the city was used in unintended ways. For me this assignment was also about exploring the way of thinking like a bricoleur and simultaneously showing the true contruction and composition of something. And in extension of that, I wanted to contribute to the thinking that what can be assembled should also be able to be disassembled in a sustainable world.

PÅ GYNGENDE GRUND

Tæt på Skudehavnen i Nordhavn finder vi områder, som opfylder mange af de kriterier, der er med til at danne et godt rum for både studerende og andre. Her kan beboerne opholde sig i rolige omgivelser, samtidig med at de er et stenkast fra byens liv. Vandskabet nord for Nordhavn er et interessant farvand, der, med delvist menneskeskabt land på tre sider, skaber en fjord.

Skuderne består af to varianter af flydeenheder, der hver indeholder to boliger - én til to personer og én til én person. Enhederne kan skiftevis sammenkobles og danne kæder, hvorigennem en gangpassage snor sig som en kobling mellem de forskellige friarealer. Boligerne har hver en tilkoblet kajak, der med solpaneler kan bidrage til generering af elektricitet til flydeenhederne.

Dels er projektet også et forsøg på at vise, hvordan man kan puste nyt liv i materialer, der ellers ville blive kasseret. Ved at bruge varmebehandlet genanvendt glasfiber anvendes et materiale, der ikke kun har stærke rødder i maritim kultur, men som også skaber miljømæssige udfordringer, når det ikke længere kan bruges.

Projektet er desuden et bud på, hvordan en konstruktion kan bygges på vandet uden at opbryde havets periferi. Tagets organiske form emulerer havets udtryk med en nænsom eftertanke. Der dannes desuden sigtelinjer gennem friarealerne, som åbner kysten for beboerne.

THEME

Daedalus repræsenterer visdom og eftertænksomhed, men faderens synder afspejles i Ikaros.

Sønnen bliver symbolet på skyggesiden af innovation —ukontrolleret udnyttelse af jordens ressourcer uden omtanke. Hele fortællingen er dybt relevant, særligt i forhold til menneskets objektivisering af naturen og de selvdestruktive konsekvenser, det medfører.

Daidalos repræsenterer den positive udvikling, der er nødvendig for at undgå Ikaros’ tragiske skæbne. Myten er dualistisk af natur og iscenesætter to grundsten i mennesket.

déda le (fransk ordbog)

i. myte og oldhistorie labyrinten på kreta, bygget af ingeniøren og opfinderen Daedalus, hvor Theseus, for at konfrontere Minotauren, lyk kedes med ikke at fare vild takket være Ariadnes tråd.

ii. a lmindelig, ofte nedsættende, som regel i ental. et system, der danner en kompliceret kreds af elementer, hvor man risikerer at fare vild. synonym: en mere litterær betegnelse for labyrint.…

Da jeg havde forladt Invalides-broen, var det ikke længere lyst på himlen; der var knap nok lys i byen, og mens jeg snublede her og der over skraldespande og forvekslede den ene vej med den a nden, befandt jeg mig, uden at være klar over det, efter at have fulgt mekanisk et dédale af mørke gader, pludselig på boulevarderne.

Proust, LeTempsretrouvé , 1922, s. 763 (oversat)

Er det universelt at være redd for mørket?

Hvad om man er på et nyt sted?

Hvor gemmer man sig når jorden går under?

Føler en fisk på klima angst?

Er frygten for jordskælv, rationel eller irrationel?

Hvem er de, der ikke tror på klimakrisen?

Hvordan undgår man at forbruge mere end nødvendigt?

Hvad følte Ikarus, da hans vinger smeltede?

Bliver det sort, når verden tager slut?

Hvordan holder en bygning under jordskælv?

Hvis han havde muligheden, ville han så fortryde hans handling eller gøre det igen?

Hvor bliver vandet af, om jorden eksploderer?

Hvor længe bliver vi her endnu?

A reflection of two philosophical mindsets: One mindset of measured creativity and the other of reckless ambition. The ca lculated ingenuity of a disciplined innovator showcases humanity’s capacity to solve problems through skill and foresight.

In contrast, Immoderate ambitions, fueled by defiance of limits, reveals the dangers of overconfidence. It serves as a reminder of the delicate interplay between innovations, hubris and consequences of exceeding boundaries. The balance lies in combining bold ideas with thoughtful execution, ensuring the design pushes boundaries while remaining grounded in context and feasibility. Much like navigating Aarhus’ blend of modern innovation and respect for heritage.

SKULPTUR

Floating alone in the infinity of space.

Center of the universe.

Small and insignificant.

Entitled the resources of the planet.

BIRKE LANGKJÆR JAKOBSEN AARHUS SCHOOL OF ARCHITECTURE

HARALD STYRUP JANTZEN

DET KONGELIGE AKADEMI

ONLY IN OUR MEMORIES

Humans have created countless beautiful and remarkable things on Earth. Humans have created countless chaotic and cruel things on Earth. This collage series expresses a recurring concern for the future as Earth vigorously suffers from the merciless treatment of humans. The climate crisis floods a generation with a burden that can provoke pervasive despair and anxiety. The collages aim to debate the earth’s condition, human footprints, over-production and overconsumption, relationships, and the human experience in a world that can seem dilapidated. The collages question what our future will look like for our species if we continue going down the earth-harming spiral. Combining multiple media and materials they reflect upon the climate crises and by using magazine and newspaper cutouts, photography, trash, encapsulated nature, drawings, and written statements the collages visually emphasize the fears and traumas of our generation.

adapting in reaction to an ever-changing and undulating environment. facing our future, we must adapt as preemptive measure. we can’t wait for society to conform, facing a worse world that we made. change lies with us, we flew ourselves into that sun, we must mimic daedalus, take a step back to rethink. the sun above, the ocean below; many pastures yield doom, many roads lead ruin. this ghoulish hadean narrative is epitomized a timeless myth, of being mindful and conscious of real boundaries, and that pushing till an inevitable collapse will only beget an eventual downfall. architecture as a profession is moribund. the designing and building of infrastructure solely employing the newest innovative strategies is destined to fail. akin to Icarus, humanities direction is one of hubris; pursuing economic and anthropocentric cynosure before the sustainability of society. humans are proteans, always adapting in reaction to an ever-changing and undulating environment. facing our future, we must adapt as preemptive measure. we can’t wait for society to conform, facing a worse world that we made. change lies with us, we flew ourselves into that sun, we must mimic daedalus, take a step back to rethink. the sun above, the ocean below; many pastures yield doom, many roads lead ruin. this ghoulish hadean narrative is epitomized a timeless myth, of being mindful and conscious of real boundaries, and that pushing till an inevitable collapse will only beget an eventual downfall. architecture as a profession is moribund. the designing and building of infrastructure solely employing the newest innovative strategies is destined to fail. akin to Icarus, humanities direction is one of hubris; pursuing economic and anthropocentric cynosure before the sustainability of society. humans are proteans, always adapting in reaction to an ever-changing and undulating environment. facing our future, we must adapt as preemptive measure. we can’t wait for society to conform, facing a worse world that we made. change lies with us, we flew ourselves into that sun, we must mimic daedalus, take a step back to rethink. the sun above, the ocean below; many pastures yield doom, many roads lead ruin. this ghoulish hadean narrative is epitomized a timeless myth, of being mindful and conscious of real boundaries, and that pushing till an inevitable collapse will only beget an eventual downfall. architecture as a profession is moribund. the designing and building of infrastructure solely employing the newest innovative strategies is destined to fail. akin to Icarus, humanities direction is one of hubris; pursuing economic and anthropocentric cynosure before the sustainability of society. humans are proteans, always adapting in reaction to an ever-changing and undulating environment. facing our future, we must adapt as preemptive measure. we can’t wait for society to conform, facing a worse world that we made. change lies with us, we flew ourselves into that sun, we must mimic daedalus, take a step back to rethink. the sun above, the ocean below; many pastures yield doom, many roads lead ruin. this ghoulish hadean narrative is epitomized a timeless myth, of being mindful and conscious of real boundaries, and that pushing till an inevitable collapse will only beget an eventual downfall. architecture as a profession is moribund. the designing and building of infrastructure solely employing the newest innovative strategies is destined to fail. akin to Icarus, humanities direction is one of hubris; pursuing economic and anthropocentric cynosure before the sustainability of society. humans are proteans, always adapting in reaction to an ever-changing and undulating environment. facing our future, we must adapt as preemptive measure. we can’t wait for society to conform, facing a worse world that we made. change lies with us, we flew ourselves into that sun, we must mimic daedalus, take a step back to rethink. the sun above, the ocean below; many pastures yield doom, many roads lead ruin. this ghoulish hadean narrative is epitomized a timeless myth, of being mindful and conscious of real boundaries, and that pushing till an inevitable

ARKITEKTURA MORIBUND

and building of infrastructure solely employing the newest innovative strategies is destined to fail. akin to Icarus, humanities direction is one of hubris; pursuing an economic and anthropocentric cynosure before the sustainability of society. humans are proteans, always adapting in reaction to an ever-changing and undulating environment. facing our future, we must adapt as a preemptive measure. we can’t wait for society to conform, facing a worse world that we made. change lies with us, we flew ourselves into that sun, we must mimic daedalus, take a step back to rethink. the sun above, the ocean below; many pastures yield doom, many roads lead to ruin. this ghoulish hadean narrative is epitomized as a timeless myth, of being mindful and conscious of real boundaries, and that pushing till an inevitable collapse will only beget an eventual downfall. architecture as a profession is moribund. the designing and building of infrastructure solely employing the newest innovative strategies is destined to fail. akin to Icarus, humanities direction is one of hubris; pursuing an economic and anthropocentric cynosure before the sustainability of society. humans are proteans, always adapting in reaction to an ever-changing and undulating environment. facing our future, we must adapt as a preemptive measure. we can’t wait for society to conform, facing a worse world that we made. change lies with us, we flew ourselves into that sun, we must mimic daedalus, take a step back to rethink. the sun above, the ocean below; many pastures yield doom, many roads lead to ruin. this ghoulish hadean narrative is epitomized as a timeless myth, of being mindful and conscious of real boundaries, and that pushing till an inevitable collapse will only beget an eventual downfall. architecture as a profession is moribund. the designing and building of infrastructure solely employing the newest innovative strategies is destined to fail. akin to Icarus, humanities direction is one of hubris; pursuing an economic and anthropocentric cynosure before the sustainability of society. humans are proteans, always adapting in reaction to an ever-changing and undulating environment. facing our future, we must adapt as a preemptive measure. we can’t wait for society to conform, facing a worse world that we made. change lies with us, we flew ourselves into that sun, we must mimic daedalus, take a step back to rethink. the sun above, the ocean below; many pastures yield doom, many roads lead to ruin. this ghoulish hadean narrative is epitomized as a timeless myth, of being mindful and conscious of real boundaries, and that pushing till an inevitable collapse will only beget an eventual downfall. architecture as a profession is moribund. the designing and building of infrastructure solely employing the newest innovative strategies is destined to fail. akin to Icarus, humanities direction is one of hubris; pursuing an economic and anthropocentric cynosure before the sustainability of society. humans are proteans, always adapting in reaction to an ever-changing and undulating environment. facing our future, we must adapt as a preemptive measure. we can’t wait for society to conform, facing a worse world that we made. change lies with us, we flew ourselves into that sun, we must mimic daedalus, take a step back to rethink. the sun above, the ocean below; many pastures yield doom, many roads lead to ruin. this ghoulish hadean narrative is epitomized as a timeless myth, of being mindful and conscious of real boundaries, and that pushing till an inevitable collapse will only beget an eventual downfall. architecture as a profession is moribund. the designing and building of infrastructure solely employing the newest innovative strategies is destined to fail. akin to Icarus, humanities direction is one of hubris; pursuing an economic and anthropocentric cynosure before the sustainability of society. humans are proteans, always adapting in reaction to an ever-changing and undulating environment. facing our future, we must adapt as a preemptive measure. we can’t wait for society to conform, facing a worse world that we made. change lies with us, we flew ourselves into that sun, we must mimic daedalus,

this ghoulish hadean narrative is epitomized as a timeless myth, of being mindful and conscious of real boundaries, and that pushing till an inevitable collapse will only beget an eventual downfall. architecture as a profession is moribund. the designing and building of infrastructure solely employing the newest innovative strategies is destined to fail. akin to Icarus, humanities direction is one of hubris; pursuing an economic and anthropocentric cynosure before the sustainability of society. humans are proteans, always adapting in reaction to an ever-changing and undulating environment. facing our future, we must adapt as a preemptive measure. we can’t wait for society to conform, facing a worse world that we made. change lies with us, we flew ourselves into that sun, we must mimic daedalus, take a step back to rethink. the sun above, the ocean below; many pastures yield doom, many roads lead to ruin. this ghoulish hadean narrative is epitomized as a timeless myth, of being mindful and conscious of real boundaries, and that pushing till an inevitable collapse will only beget an eventual downfall. architecture as a profession is moribund. the designing and building of infrastructure solely employing the newest innovative strategies is destined to fail. akin to Icarus, humanities direction is one of hubris; pursuing an economic and anthropocentric cynosure before the sustainability of society. humans are proteans, always adapting in reaction to an ever-changing and undulating environment. facing our future, we must adapt as a preemptive measure. we can’t wait for society to conform, facing a worse world that we made. change lies with us, we flew ourselves into that sun, we must mimic daedalus, take a step back to rethink. the sun above, the ocean below; many pastures yield doom, many roads lead to ruin. this ghoulish hadean narrative is epitomized as a timeless myth, of being mindful and conscious of real boundaries, and that pushing till an inevitable collapse will only beget an eventual downfall. architecture as a profession is moribund. the designing and building of infrastructure solely employing the newest innovative strategies is destined to fail. akin to Icarus, humanities direction is one of hubris; pursuing an economic and anthropocentric cynosure before the sustainability of society. humans are proteans, always adapting in reaction to an ever-changing and undulating environment. facing our future, we must adapt as a preemptive measure. we can’t wait for society to conform, facing a worse world that we made. change lies with us, we flew ourselves into that sun, we must mimic daedalus, take a step back to rethink. the sun above, the ocean below; many pastures yield doom, many roads lead to ruin. this ghoulish hadean narrative is epitomized as a timeless myth, of being mindful and conscious of real boundaries, and that pushing till an inevitable collapse will only beget an eventual downfall. architecture as a profession is moribund. the designing and building of infrastructure solely employing the newest innovative strategies is destined to fail. akin to Icarus, humanities direction is one of hubris; pursuing an economic and anthropocentric cynosure before the sustainability of society. humans are proteans, always adapting in reaction to an ever-changing and undulating environment. facing our future, we must adapt as a preemptive measure. we can’t wait for society to conform, facing a worse world that we made. change lies with us, we flew ourselves into that sun, we must mimic daedalus, take a step back to rethink. the sun above, the ocean below; many pastures yield doom, many roads lead to ruin. this ghoulish hadean narrative is epitomized as a timeless myth, of being mindful and conscious of real boundaries, and that pushing till an inevitable collapse will only beget an eventual downfall. architecture as a profession is moribund. the designing and building of infrastructure solely employing the newest innovative strategies is destined to fail. akin to Icarus, humanities direction is one of hubris; pursuing an economic and anthropocentric cynosure before the sustainability of society. humans are proteans, always adapting in reaction to an ever-changing and undulating environment. facing our future, we must adapt as a preemptive measure. we can’t wait for society to conform, facing a worse world that we made. change lies with us, we flew ourselves into that sun, we must mimic daedalus, take a step back to rethink. the sun above, the ocean below; many pastures yield doom, many roads lead to ruin. this ghoulish hadean narrative is epitomized

architecture as a profession is moribund. the designing and building of infrastructure solely employing the newest innovative strategies is destined to fail. akin to Icarus, humanities direction is one of hubris; pursuing an economic and anthropocentric cynosure before the sustainability of society. humans are proteans, always adapting in reaction to an ever-changing and undulating environment. facing our future, we must adapt as a preemptive measure. we can’t wait for society to conform, facing a worse world that we made. change lies with us, we flew ourselves into that sun, we must mimic daedalus, take a step back to rethink. the sun above, the ocean below; many pastures yield doom, many roads lead to ruin. this ghoulish hadean narrative is epitomized as a timeless myth, of being mindful and conscious of real boundaries, and that pushing till an inevitable collapse will only beget an eventual downfall.

ANCIENT

HAW HAMBURG, PROJECT BY: ART DIRECTION AND IDEA: JULIA SCHMALFELDT, LUZIE KUTZ, KARINA LUCENA DE SENA NUNES SILVA. IN COLLABORATION WITH: ALEXANDRA RYGUS, TIL LESER, AMIR ROGALLA, VERA HÖRGER, RABEA STOCKBRINK, JOSEPHA ESPIRITO SANTO, LUKAS KLIMOWICZ, SOPHIE CLAUS, FELIX EICKMANN, MARIA HÜTTL, JOHANNA GLOVER.

ANCIENT KIOSK IS A TIMEMACHINE INTO ANCIENT DAY FESTIVITIES, BUILDING A BRIDGE BETWEEN MODERN AND ANCIENT ENTERTAINMENT,AND GIVING IT A SATIRIC TWIST.

In 2023, Julia Schmalfeldt, Luzie Kutz, Lilian Foltys and Karina Lucena de Sena Nunes Silva worked on the ancient kiosk in collaboration with an exhibition from the ancient collection of the ‘Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe’ in Hamburg. The exhibited pieces were from festivities from the ancient times like olympic games or gladiator games and funerals. Because merchandise already existed back then.

The idea was to imagine a modern kiosk selling kitschy souvenirs like you see them in cities like Rome or Venice set in the ancient times. The products take a spin on myths from Ancient Greece and Rome, the culture of the people and gladiator games, and incorporated a lot of puns and jokes.

BLOOD STAIN

“Homemade stain created by rubbing a mixture of ash, vinegar, alcohol, and steel wool onto scrap pine planks, then adding a mixture of linseed oil and food grade cow’s blood from a local butcher.”

ON PINE

ii. Innovation

Daedalus sketches.

In the dim light of the tower, his hand moves across rough stone. Ideas appear in the margins, half-formed, urgent. A line, a curve, a structure. A means of escape.

He studies the room: the flickering of a candle, the shifting weight of feathers left behind by seabirds Wax and wings, heat and flight. He thinks of balance, of tension, of the forces that hold things together and those that break them apart. He works with instinct and precision, hands moving with the certainty of experience. He constructs a fragile exoskeleton— something between nature and invention. The wings are not just tools. They are rebellion against confinement. A rupture in the system. A refusal to accept the given order of things. They are hope made tangible.

Icarus watches, wide-eyed. He does not see the calculations, the risks. He sees only the sky, endless and open.

IN CONVERSATION SØREN NIELSEN

“BRANCHEN GØR FOR LIDT” - OM EN KOMMERCIALISEREDE BRANCHE OG STÆRKE

MEDARBEJDER

Allerede i gymnasiet startede Søren Nielsens interesse for boliger, og hurtigt blev aspektet omkring økologi en del af interessen for bosætning. På arkitektskolen gik Søren på en linje, som arbejdede med økologi. Dengang handlede økologi om at spare på energien i bygningerne, grundet oliekrisen i 1973. Efter Søren startede sin ansættelse hos Vandkunsten i 1990, vandt tegnestuen en konkurrence i 1996, som hed Økohus 99. Dette blev startskuddet til andre projekter ved Vandkunsten, hvor energibesparelse og økologi var i fokus. I 2010 arbejdede de med et projekt, hvor de introducerede livscyklusanalyser og ressourceproblematikken for første gang og gjorde det til en del af besvarelsen. Dette kunne dommerpanelet, som primært var ingeniører, overhovedet ikke forholde sig til. Det har ændret sig siden, og i dag er LCA (life cycle assessment) og alt omkring energi en fast del af lovgivningen. Men det aspekt af økologi er som sådan ikke genstand for arkitektonisk beregning, men kan spille en anden betydningsfuld rolle for Arkitekter:

”Jeg har interesseret mig for ressourcebevarelse, på den måde, at vi får vores bygninger til at holde længere. Det handler ikke bare om at bygge i den stærkeste beton, vi har, det handler både om en æstetisk strategi, at få bygningerne til at blive smukke, så folk er glade for dem, for så river de dem nok ikke ned. Det andet, som er lidt mere teknisk, det er at have en robust geometri, som gør, at de kan konverteres fra en funktion til en anden over tid. Så forlænger man også deres levetid, eller sandsynligheden for det. Det sidste, det er så cirkularitet, altså at man bygger reversibelt, så man kan skille ting ad igen, og så kan man jo genbruge det hele.”

Dette sidste princip blev til et forskningsprojekt, hvor Søren forskede i princippet Design for Disassembly

I denne sammenhæng var det vigtigt for os at snakke med Søren om Daedalus som analogi til byggebranchen. Hvor han ser, at byggebranchen og arkitekterne har overskredet deres grænser for ambition, og måske mangler hensyn til klodens ressourcer.

”Jeg synes, vi har underskredet vores grænser. Jeg synes, at arkitekterne har mistet for meget af deres etos, det er blevet kommercialiseret, og i en periode var det jo moderne at kalde det professionalisering af faget, men det betød virkelig bare en stærkere markedsgørelse, og så skulle man lære at forstå sine kunder. Jeg kan ikke være mere uenig, altså det er et kæmpe problem, hvis arkitekter tror, at de skal tilfredsstille kunder, i hvert fald hvis man mener, at kunderne er dem, som betaler arkitekterne. Kunderne i min butik, det er dem, som skal bo, arbejde, eller hvad man nu skal i bygningen - basta. Det er dem, vi skal betjene, det er ikke dem, der betaler. Dem, der betaler, er som regel professionelle bygherrer, som kan være jurister eller økonomer, og som bare skal varetage en eller anden bundlinje. At tro, at det skal være en grundforudsætning, at man skal please et segment af økonomer og jurister, det er det værste, der kan ske.”

Søren fortælle at det desværre er en tendens, der ses alt for tit i branchen, og som bliver forstærket af, at man ser en hel masse opkøb og store konglomerater, hvor nogen af dem bliver så store, at de bliver børsnoteret.

”Det er jo ensbetydende med, at vi er der for at tjene penge. Vi er der ikke for at lave ordentlig arkitektur, vi er der, for at vores aktier skal stige. Det synes jeg er at “underskride” vores ambition, fordi vores potentiale er meget større.” Søren mener, at hvis man skal tage vores fag alvorligt, så skal man tage det ansvar alvorligt, som vi har som arkitekter. Det handler ikke kun om at tjene penge til os selv og vores medarbejdere, men også om at skubbe til en udvikling i samfundet.

”Jeg synes simpelthen, at arkitektbranchen gør for lidt, jeg synes, den er for ”følg agtig”, og jeg vil gerne se noget mere mod, aktivisme og modstand.”

Som tidligere medejer af en tegnestue med hundrede medarbejdere fortæller, Søren at han godt ved, at man skal være pragmatisk, gå på kompromis, og som han siger ”skal opføre sig ordentligt i et eller andet omfang”. Men han mener også, at man bliver nødt til at lægge nogle etiske spilleregler, som gør, at man på tegnestuerne er enige om, at her går grænsen:

”Noget af det bedste, jeg har været ude for længe, er, at der er nogle medarbejdere, som har sagt, at de ikke vil arbejde for den bygherre der, eller jeg vil ikke arbejde med de materialer. Hvis jeg skal sidde og tegne beton for Arkitektgruppen, så siger jeg op. Så kunne man jo sige, så er du fyret, og det vil være rigtig dumt. Det er meget bedre og meget smartere at lytte til sådan en reaktion, for den skal jo på en eller anden måde gives videre. Det skulle gerne ende med, at de ondeste og dummeste bygherrer, kun kan få skod arkitekter.

Søren fornemmede tidligt, at branchen eventuelt ikke ville forandre sig i et hurtigt nok tempo og, at selv en mere bæredygtig byggeskik ikke ville være nok til at holde ressourceforbruget og CO2- udledningen inden for de planetære grænser. Som konsekvens foreslog han i en artikel i Byrum Monitor i 2020 et midlertidigt byggestop.

”Det er en logisk konsekvens af, at vi overskrider de planetære grænser så groft. Hvis Danmark har overshoot day, om mindre end en måned (Overshoot day i Danmark var d. 19. marts 2025). Hvis vi skal nedbringe vores klimabelastning, hvor gør det så mindst ondt? Det gør selvfølgelig mindst ondt, der hvor vi overforbruger aller vildest. Det er altså byggeriet. Vi har europarekord i kvadratmeter per person, ikke kun boliger, også i det hele taget. Så hvorfor er det egentlig, vi bliver ved med at bygge og bygge og bygge?”

Den eksisterende bygningsmasse, siger han, er allerede mere, end der er behov for, især på boligmarkedet, hvor han ser problemet især i fordelingen af boliger, end i produktion og antal af disse.

”Der gør man markedet til Gud og siger, at boligpriserne er så høje, at folk ikke kan bo der. Så gør man da noget for at få boligpriserne ned, altså regulært. Indtil videre, så er alle partier på alle sider af midten enige om, at man skal bygge mere. Enten af den ene eller den anden grund. (...) Der var så mange andre ting, man kunne gøre, end bare at sige, at det skal bygges væk. Det er for nemt, og det er et træk på naturgrundlaget, som man har været vant til siden oldtiden. Så tager vi da bare noget mere, og forbruger noget mere, fordi så skal vi ikke have en fordelingsdiskussion. Det er fordelingsdiskussionen, der gør ondt.”

Ligesom til ressourcebevarelsen, har Søren også her et sæt af tre regler, der skal styrke en bæredygtig fremgang. De tre regler er noget, han låner fra hans første studie, den økologiske økonomi.

”Som arkitekter, så kan vi arbejde med efficiens, altså effektivisering, af det vi har, den teknologi, vi har. Vi kan også få bedre teknologi, men meget innovation handler om at gøre noget mere effektivt, lave nye materialer, som er mindre skadelige osv. Så har vi også en strategi, der hedder sufficients. Altså tilstrækkelighed. Hvor meget behøver vi egentlig? De er jo indbyrdes relateret, for nogle gange, så kan man klare sig med mindre, hvis man har effektiviseret et eller andet. Efficiensen handler om at udnytte det, man har bedre. Suficienten handler om at lade være med at bruge mere af det. Der kan arkitekterne være med til at komme med gode løsninger. Vi har både en teknisk dimension, og

BYGGESTOP: EN LOGISK KONSEKVENS

EFFICIENS, SUFFICIENS OG KONSISTENS - TRE REGLER TIL BÆREDYGTIG BYGGESKIK

PROFESSIONELLE

ALTERNIVISTER: ARKITEKTENS

STÆRKE ROLLE

så en mere kulturel eller oplevelsesmæssig dimension, som hele tiden bliver undergravet af det økonomiske system, som godt vil have bygget noget mere, og investere, og tænke på gensalgsværdier, og alt det her. Det sidste punkt, det er konsistens. Det er måske virkelig noget, der ligesom skal vogte over de to andre. Det er en bygningskultur, som man skal hen imod, som er indlejret i de planetære systemer. Så har man bare en praksis, som er normaliseret og stabiliseret, som ikke fører til en udfordring af de planetære grænser.”

”Det er et meget fjernt mål, fordi det kun er overgået af ideen om, at det er regenerativt (...), men hvis der er nogen, der siger, at de bygger regenerativt eller laver noget regenerativt, så skal man trække sin pistol, det er simpelthen løgn. Du kan ikke slå en prut i det her samfund, som gør planeten bedre!”

De mange problemer i branchen, kan kun løses igennem et tæt samarbejde på tværs af faglighederne, med arkitekten i en ledende rolle, siger Søren. Derved spiller arkitektens faglighed i æstetik og formidling en særlig vigtig rolle:

”Vi har som den eneste professionsgruppe relateret til byggeri også muligheden for at illustrere kvaliteterne ved nogle af de alternativer, man kan foreslå. Så det bedste, man kunne gøre, er at gå sammen med nogle økonomer. (...) Så kan man sige: Kan man ikke lave et system, som understøtter nogle andre levemåder i boligbyggeriet, måske også nogle andre transportformer osv.? Og det kan vi illustrere. I forhold til ressourceanvendelse kan vi også finde tekniske løsninger, og vi kan kvalificere de tekniske løsninger i kraft af interessante materialevirkninger, detaljering osv. Det er det perspektiv, vi aldrig må glemme. Du kan ikke gå ud i pressen og tale om avanceret æstetik, det vil der ikke være nogen, der forstår. (...) Inde i skatkammeret, der bygger vi det op, som er vores fags kerne. Nemlig en pulje af arkitektoniske motiver. Noget som vi kan bruge til at bygge videre på den store arkitekturhistorie. Jeg har aldrig opgivet, at bæredygtighed og økologi skal lede til en civilisatorisk højkultur i arkitekturen. Ligesom man har haft i tusind år i middelalderen i Japan, hvor man har haft en arkitektonisk højkultur, som er baseret totalt på bæredygtighed. Nærmest på niveau med drømmen om det regenerative.”

”Arkitektens rolle er den samme, som den altid har været: Vi skal se potentialet. Der er også andre fag, som arbejder med en designmetodik, men vores fag, den måde, vi arbejder på, det er jo gennem iterationer, og det er ved at arbejde eksplorativt. Vi kender nok et problem, men vi har ikke en fast defineret løsning på det, derved adskiller vi os fra ingeniørfagene. Vi laver løsninger, vi undersøger og reflekterer, mens vi foreslår noget, og så siger vi, nej, det var ikke godt nok. Så bliver vi ved, indtil vi kommer med noget, som vi siger, det her, det er mit bud, nu tror jeg på det. Det her blik, som vi har som arkitekter, at vi spørger: what if? Vi forestiller os, og det lyder lidt poppet, vi forestiller os, at ting kunne være anderledes. Vi er professionelle alternativister, og så skal det jo kvalificeres. Vi ved godt, at 98% af det, vi foreslår, det ryger af bordet, det duede ikke alligevel, men vi kan ikke komme frem til de sidste 2%, hvis ikke vi foreslår det.”

”Det er det fede ved vores fag, og det er der virkelig brug for, fordi de andre virkelig ikke kan. Det er der, hvor vores designmetodik overskrider vores forpligtelse som sektor, eller som et teknologisk felt, vi overskrider technosphæren, vi går ud og kan godt samarbejde med andre samfundssystemer, som økonomi, biologi og jura. Vi har noget at byde ind med der. Jeg vil bare ønske, at de andre samfundssystemer vil åbne øjnene noget mere for det. Det har været sådan i mange år, at nu har vi et eller andet problem her, som skal løses, og så laver vi en arkitektkonkurrence. Så skal arkitekterne løse det inden for en rammesætning, som er økonomisk og juridisk og miljømæssig, men vi får aldrig mulighed for at deltage i programmeringen, altså definitionen af problemet, og det bør vi have i større omfang!”

SKÆVE PRIORITERINGER

Jeg tænker på den nyvalgte amerikanske præsident og det kraftigste regn i Spaniens minde.

Jeg tænker på den yderste højrefløj, der mener, at klimakrisen er en socialistisk løgn.

Og jeg tænker på skovbrande og varmerekorder.

Og på de døende have.

Jeg tænker på de halvtreds træer, Aarhus kommune vil plante.

Jeg tænker på min sommerferie i Albanien og på de 500.000 bunkers.

Jeg tænker på diktatoren Enver Hoxha, og hans kolde krig paranoia.

Og jeg tænker på skæve prioriteringer.

Og på de døende have.

REFLECTIONS OF RESPONSABLILITY

PATRICK PANKALLA ROYAL DANISH ACADEMY

‘Reflections of Responsibility’ er en reflekterende plakatserie bestående af otte sort-hvide fotografier fra Islands rå og dramatiske natur.

Gennem enkle, men provokerende statements som ‘u r 4 sale’, ‘y bother’ og ‘care less’ skaber serien et visuelt rum for eftertanke omkring individets ansvar og indflydelse på jordens fremtid.

Serien undersøger de konflikter og dilemmaer, vi som enkeltpersoner og samfund står overfor i forhold til klimaforandringer og naturbevarelse. Med statements som “protect urself, not earth” og “no planet b” inviteres beskueren til at konfrontere både egen og fælles ansvarsfølelse –eller manglen på samme.

Fotografiernes monokrome udtryk fremhæver Islands barske landskaber og symboliserer samtidig de gråzoner, som klimakrisens udfordringer ofte skaber: Når naturens skønhed og skrøbelighed bliver til en baggrund for spørgsmål om forbrug, egeninteresse og apati.

Hvert billede i serien stiller direkte eller indirekte spørgsmål til beskueren – “do you care” –og opfordrer til en dybere refleksion over de valg, vi træffer. Projektet udfordrer os til at overveje, om vores nuværende handlinger i virkeligheden blot er bekvemme undskyldninger for inaktivitet, eller om vi har modet til at tage ansvar for en bæredygtig fremtid.

POCKET

PERNILLE CHRISTENSEN

UNIVERSITY OF APPLIED

ARTS VIENNA

HOLE

For as long as cities have existed, materials have been moved and smuggled from landscapes through vast infrastructures that do not know borders. Matter and minerals of sedimentary and lithic ontologies are disposed to urban space, shaping modernities and technological progress. Colossal topographies, industrialized resource extraction of coal, stone, minerals, metal and lime, have formed environmentally catastrophic scars dispersed across the terrestrial crust. Often alienated

in their distance from human sight and touch. Still, the earth is birthplace to all matter, pigments, pigeons, lampposts, bricks and fire. The largest accessible hard disk of times, storing geological and cultural waves; meteor, wars, floods, settlements, biological mass death, migration flows and ice ages. All archived, layered and scratched into the earth. Large continental movements sculpt mechanical, fluid and chemical forces into condensed lithic formations. Pocket Hole is a

mini landscape in the size of a data drive, saving a forgotten puncture in the geological membrane soon to be filled with water. Small in consciousness, but heavy in weight of economical cynicism. An intimate encounter with the practice of extractivism, where no one can escape complicity. A relief of a mine in remembrance that what is being taken from the land is essentially human hubris.

THE LAST ADVENTURE TO HEAVEN

JOACHIM HALLGREN

ARKITEKTSKOLEN AARHUS

Den Sidste Rejse: En Arkitektonisk Meditation Over Liv og Død.

Hvordan ønsker vi at blive husket? Og hvilken fortælling tager vi med os, når vi forlader denne verden? Spørgsmålene er både dybt personlige og universelle. Joachim Hallgrens installation Last Adventure to Heaven, skabt som svar på spørgsmålet om dødens betydning, inviterer os til at reflektere over livet og det ukendte. Værket balancerer mellem det jordnære og det kosmiske, mellem det forgængelige og det evige – og åbner samtidig en større diskussion om dødens plads i arkitektur og kunst.

I centrum af værket står en lysende trekant, svævende over en base af mos og bark, som leder tankerne mod naturens cyklus og menneskets forbindelse til universet. Den trekantede stjerne fungerer som en metafor for sjælens opstigning, men den kaster også refleksioner, der engagerer rummet omkring den. I sit udtryk peger værket på døden som en rejse – ikke en afslutning, men en overgang. En rejse, hvor vi ser tilbage på livet, fordøjer dets mange øjeblikke og til sidst klatrer op mod stjernerne for at blive en del af noget større.

Arkitekturen som ramme for det ukendte.

Historisk har døden altid haft sin plads i arkitekturen. Fra de majestætiske egyptiske pyramider til gotikkens himmelstræbende katedraler har mennesket bygget monumenter for at finde mening i det uvisse. Men hvor tidligere tiders dødens arkitektur ofte havde et monumentalt udtryk, tilbyder dette værk en mere personlig og poetisk tilgang.

Det er ikke kun døden som afslutning, der formidles her, men også døden som en meditativ overgang. Værkets forgængelige materialer – bark, mos og træ –minder os om vores jordiske ophav og om naturens cykliske karakter. Det er ikke materialer, der søger evighed, men snarere materialer, der forgår sammen med os. Samtidig peger den lysende trekant mod det transcendente, mod det ukendte, mod noget større end os selv.

Denne dialog mellem det jordiske og det kosmiske rejser en arkitektonisk udfordring: Hvordan skaber vi rum, der ikke blot rummer sorgen, men også giver plads til refleksion, til overgangen fra liv til død og måske til en form for transcendens?

Dødens rejse og livets fortælling.

I Last Adventure to Heaven møder vi også fortællingen om livet. Kunstnerens refleksion over egne rejseoplevelser er vævet ind i værket. Det er en påmindelse om, at livet er summen af de øjeblikke, vi skaber og husker. Som i Astrid Lindgrens fortælling Brødrene Løvehjerte er døden ikke afslutningen, men snarere en sidste rejse – en passage gennem noget uvis hen mod en paradisisk have. En rejse, hvor man kan fordøje det liv, man går bort fra, genopleve de gode og mindre gode stunder og finde ro i deres betydning.

Denne idé om døden som en rejse kan tolkes som en universel menneskelig længsel efter mening. I værkets form bliver dette en fysisk repræsentation: Stien af bark og mos fører ikke blot op mod stjernerne, men inviterer os også til at reflektere over vores egne spor i livet. Hvordan har vi levet? Hvordan vil vi blive husket?

Refleksionens arkitektur

I dødens arkitektur kan lys og materiale skabe en overgang mellem liv og efterliv. Lyset kan være en påmindelse om det ukendte, en rettesnor mod det uendelige eller blot en ramme, hvor sorg og refleksion kan udfolde sig. Dette er ikke blot kunstens opgave, men også arkitekturens. Hvordan kan vi skabe rum, der både ærer det, der var, og rummer det, der kommer?

I dette værk er svaret ikke at skabe noget monumentalt og varigt, men snarere at bruge forgængelighed som et aktivt element. Naturens materialer og det lysende symbol skaber tilsammen en ramme, der minder os om, at livet er en del af en større cyklus. Vi lever, vi dør, og vi bliver en del af universet.

Døden som arkitektonisk opgave.

Last Adventure to Heaven minder os om, at døden ikke blot er et personligt tab, men også en universel og arkitektonisk udfordring. Hvordan formgiver vi det ukendte? Hvordan skaber vi rum, der giver mening for de levende og ærer de døde?

Denne sidste rejse er ikke noget, vi kan definere fuldt ud, men måske er det netop det uvisse, der gør opgaven så vigtig. Arkitekturens rolle bliver at skabe rammer for både refleksion og overgang – en slags bro mellem det, vi ved, og det, vi aldrig kan vide.

I sidste ende handler det ikke om at bygge noget uforgængeligt, men om at skabe en ramme, hvor vi kan fordøje livets øjeblikke og forberede os på rejsen mod stjernerne.

BYEN VÅGNER

ALBERTE ALSTRUP

ARKITEKTSKOLE AARHUS

“Byen sover” hvisker en af mine klassekammerater.

Jeg gemmer mit ansigt i mine foldede arme. Mærker den kolde bordplade mod hagen.

Lyset slukkes. Listende fodtrin... Jeg drømmer mig væk. Forestiller mig den sovende by. Ser den oppefra.

De farvede lys i natten.

Et net af huse og veje. En labyrint.

En stille by, der trækker vejret.

Venter på den næste dag. Venter på, at vi vågner.

Det pulserende liv der vil starte igen. Endnu engang. Altid på ny.

Jeg bliver prikket på ryggen. Det giver et sæt i mig.

“Byen vågner” bliver der hvisket.

Lyset tændes.

Drømmen er væk.

13 år siden legen i klasseværelset.

Jeg bor i den store by nu.

Går gennem gadernes labyrint. Farer ikke vild mere. Kender byen nu.

Kender navnene. Genvejene. Hjørnerne.

Gaderne der opdeler byen. Afgrænser kvartererne.

De høje mure der lukker af. Afskærmer.

Mange bemærker dem ikke. Ser dem ikke. Går ubekymret forbi.

En dag standser jeg.

Foran en gammel mur.

Den ligner ikke de andre.

Den har stået der længe. Det vil den blive ved med.

Ly mod regnen. Værn mod vinden.

Beskytter.

Den hæver sig over mig. Strækker sig op mod himlen.

Kan skimte taget langt oppe. Der hvor fuglene holder hvil.

Røde tegl mod den blå himmel. Kontrast mod de bløde skyer.

Muren er tavs. Afslører ikke på afstand.

Men hvis jeg går tæt på. Helt tæt på.

Lader mine fingre løbe over de ru sten.

Mærker jeg navne og tal. Indridset i stenene.

Der er fortællinger i de gamle mursten.

Om dem der har været her. Stoppet her før mig.

Den brændte ler har forskellige farver. Nuancer.

Måske kommer det langt herfra. Måske lige under hvor jeg står.

Jeg finder min nøgle i tasken.

Ridser mit navn.

En del af murens historie nu.

Træder et par skridt tilbage.

Mon den betragter os, mens vi betragter den?

IKARUS’ ARM

“At the same time he laid down the rules of flight, he [Daedalus] fitted the newly created wings on the boy’s shoulders.

While he worked and issued his warnings the ageing man’s cheeks were wet with tears: the father’s hands trembled.”

Two lines of Ovid are brought to life by two painters. One is by the French court painter Charles Le Brun, painted when he was only 24 years old. The other is by an Italian painter, Andrea Sacchi, who painted it as a middle aged man. Both were made in Rome in the same year, 1645.

We behold the fateful scene when Daedalus, ever so clever and inventive, fits his feather and beeswax wings to Icarus. He warns his son to “take the middle way” and to “travel between the extremes”, quivering with poignant tears. It is a tender moment between life and death. Most imagery of Icarus depicts his fall from the sky, and obviously so –it is the most dramatic point in the entire plot. And yet, these two artists choose to paint the moment just before flight rather than Icarus’ tragic ending.

Baroque painters are skilled at thrusting the viewer into the middle of things: tightly framed compositions, raking light, pronounced chiaroscuro, twisting bodies and facial contortions. The point is not simply to tell a story but to make us bear witness to the drama. Daedalus prepares the wings with dexterity and affection, aware of the dangers and significance of the escape plan; Icarus, the young boy, seems largely indifferent. Ovid tells us that Icarus was not mindful of the danger, rather he enjoyed the play of breeze in the down feathers and soft beeswax between his thumb. Just moments before the calamitous flight, the tension is palpable. We know how the story ends, even if the duo does not.

Comparing the paintings shows how a few lines of poetic verse can be re-told in very different ways. Let’s start with Sacchi’s painting. No visible background offers a context; the characters float in a dark interior, strongly illuminated from above. The style is classicist; the geometry rectilinear. Icarus’ arm partially shades his face and divides the composition in half. The centre is almost exactly at his armpit, rendered in shadow; a lyrical void

between the two characters. Our focus is on this void and the interaction between them. It is a horizontal movement, following the gaze of Daedalus, whose face we cannot see, as he peers squarely at Icarus. The boy looks upward in a perfect diagonal, detached from the significance of the moment. Daedalus fitting the wings is secondary. What matters most to Sacchi is the relation between father and son and the tragedy of parental love. Could he be painting his own son, Guiseppe, a painter after his father, who died quite young?

Le Brun, on the other hand, paints with more pathos, more mystery. Once again, the composition is structured by Icarus’ arm, but this time it cuts a strong diagonal across the canvas. The powerful gesture puts the eye in motion. It briefly centres on Icarus’ bright red lips, barely visible from behind his arm. His naked, twisted body foregrounds the scene, becoming a canvas for falling light while Daedalus works fully clothed (unlike in Sacchi ’s painting), marking a strong contrast between the elder craftsman and the foolhardy youth. Not seeing the boy’s face, the eye moves upward to Daedalus and back down again to the fitted wing on Icarus’ shoulder. We follow Icarus’ arm off the canvas, where Daedalus tensions an expert knot for the wings. The composition creates an energy that puts the two characters in motion. And yet, one spot on the canvas stays still: the face of Daedalus. Everything pivots around it. He concentrates his free hand gently cups the boy – as a father might, but also with the care of a master craftsman finishing the project. He has no influence over how the wings will be used, only how they are made. The shadow across his brow obscures the eyes – if we could only get closer, maybe we could see him weep.

What to make of the importance of Icarus’ arm? Ovid says nothing of it, nor do any of the other renditions of the myth in classical literature. It is a rather curious detail. In Sacchi, the arm is raised up, passively, receiving the leather straps around his shoulder. Icarus glances one way, into the light, and the arm points the other way. It creates a static composition with a void in centre – the space between. In Le Brun, the arm reaches upward, and Icarus’ eyes follow. He gestures off the canvas edge, and the visual energy flows across and outward. The two painters’ focus on Icarus’ arm brings to light Daedalus’ special skill, which is to alter, as Ovid writes, “the natural order of things”. That humans were not made for flight appears most prominently in our arms, which are wing like, but not wings at all. Not only is the arm a critical compositional device, it is also a metonym for Icarus’ fall: the arm becomes a stand-in for the entire tragedy. Such are the tricky details when working against nature that even the clever Daedalus could not solve.

JONATHAN FOOTE ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR, MA, PHD AARHUS SCHOOL OF ARCHITECTURE

MASTER

TRANSFORMATION MASKINFABRIK

JULE CELINE FRANSSEN AARHUS SCHOOL OF ARCHITECTURE

The origin of my project lies in a critical examination of suburban landscapes, particularly the need for densification and fostering affordable forms of communal living within the current neoliberal system.

As a response to the urgency of creating inclusive, communitycentric spaces in suburbia, the project transforms and restores the former 1945 Maskinfabrik in Højbjerg, Aarhus into a mixeduse complex that integrates social housing with private apartments, offices, and various public facilities, while prioritizing a sensitive approach to heritage preservation and sustainable affordability.

Positioned with a clear antigentrification stance, the project strives to minimize the gentrification impact that often accompanies urban renewal.

By preserving the existing stores on-site and housing multiple social classes, the area’s original community is retained. The new-built volume respects its surroundings with a gable roof and a down-stepping gesture, meeting neighboring estates at an appropriate height and scale.

Inspired by the existing concrete loadbearing system, a timber framework is layered with external lightweight steel balconies that serve as circulation routes weaving new and old structures into a unified architectural language.

Where demolition was unavoidable due to structural inadequacies, the interventions remain respectful and sensitive to the existing.

The social housing units, though designed within tight budget constraints, balance efficiency with a generosity of space.

Each unit is organized around a layered spatial system, which begins at the external access balconies and extends inward.

Upon entry, residents step into a reinterpretation of the winter garden – a multifunctional threshold that can serve as a welcoming area, a transitional space, or an extension of the living quarters.

The kitchen and living room flow

seamlessly into one another, yet retain the ability to be closed off. Bedrooms, distributed across two floors, include another layer: a flexible zone leading to individual balconies, allowing the rooms to expand or contract as needed.

The bathrooms are aligned along a vertical and horizontal axis, optimizing infrastructure for costefficiency as a pragmatic response to the limitations of social housing budgets.

This project represents a deliberate

effort for suburban renewal that doesn’t have to come at the cost of displacement or homogenization. Instead, it shows how thoughtful design can foster social diversity, economic sustainability, and a deeper sense of belonging.

This approach challenges the prevailing norms of urban development, proving that architecture can be a tool for equity and care, grounded in the realities of the present while imagining a more inclusive future.

ANXIOUS

GABRIELA SOFIA VALENZUELA-LUCZYNSKA, AYSEL SANDRINE BUHL, FREDERIK LAUENBORG, KARL-EMIL BENGTSON, KARTHIK MOUROUGANE ROYAL DANISH ACADEMY

“Fish-anxious” is a speculative design installation that explores ecological anxiety through the lens of Denmark’s vanishing fish species. The installation combines sculptural forms with AI-generated imagery through projection mapping, creating an immersive experience that confronts viewers with mutated fish forms—a haunting visualization of our environmental crisis.

The installation serves as a metaphor for the broader existential threats we face, where the anxiety about fish extinction mirrors our own uncertainties about survival. By placing these mutated fish forms in outdoor waterfront or indoor spaces, the work creates a visceral reminder of humanity’s impact on natural evolution. Viewers interact not only through visual engagement but also through taking away a physical artifact—a futuristic dictionary entry defining “fish-anxious,” extending the installation’s contemplative impact beyond the immediate experience.

This work emerges from a critical examination of Denmark’s maritime heritage and its current environmental challenges, questioning our role in shaping—and potentially destroying— the natural world. Through the integration of traditional sculpting techniques and modern technologies like TouchDesigner and Adobe Firefly, “fish-anxious” creates a dialogue between past and future, natural and artificial, prevalent and extinction.

The installation implicitly asks: How do we, as individuals and as a society, reckon with our responsibility for these losses? What emotions arise when we are confronted with the consequences of our actions?

The isometric drawing illustrates the spatial relationship between the a suspended projector, b sculptural elements, and c the printed materials within the designated installation space. Drawing represents conceptual layout; dimensions and proportions are indicative only.

1920×1080p, 3580 ANSI lumen projector, ceilingmounted with 90° downward projection sculpture cast with plaster, finished with glossy lacquer, placed on floor ripped dictionary page, duplex printing in twocolor process on 60 GSM paper

OBSOLETE MONUMENT THE

WOLD AARHUS SCHOOL OF ARCHITECTURE

‘The Obsolete Monument’ reimagines the abandoned Tryvann Telecommunications Tower in Oslo as a tribute to technological and architectural progress.

This project seeks to preserve the tower’s historical and architectural significance by transforming it into a site that bridges the past, present, and future. Through meticulous surveying of the facility’s technical and spatial attributes, along with its distinctive natural surroundings, the proposal honors the legacy of the tower while envisioning a new purpose.

Central to this transformation is the establishment of a Critical Zone Observatory within the Tryvann Tower. By repurposing the tower’s existing infrastructure—spanning from its hidden underground facilities to its iconic heights—the observatory will enable interdisciplinary research across the biosphere’s layers, from the mountain’s core to the atmosphere. Strategically positioned at the threshold of Oslo’s urban landscape and vast forested areas, the Tryvann Tower CRZ Observatory will focus on studying the impacts of urbanization and pollution, making it a vital node for ecological and environmental research.

iii. Overcome

Daedalus moves forward.

The labyrinth is not just a prison of walls but a test of understanding. He knows this. The hand that builds must learn to navigate, to unmake what has been made.

In the tower, he traces a path not through stone, but through air. He runs his fingers over the wax, feeling its smooth surface, knowing its weakness. He weighs the wings in his hands, assessing the balance between structure and fragility.

There is no certainty. There is only the choice to act.

The sun rises. The wind shifts. He looks at Icarus. The boy is ready to leap before the lesson is learned.

What is flight, if not faith in what you have built?

IN CONVERSATION JONATHAN FOOTE

NEW CHALLENGES WITH OLD STRINGS ATTACHED

Architectural education evolves over time, adapting to contemporary contexts. Historical research is a fundamental part of this process—not just for analysis but as a tool to inform design. When teaching history, it’s essential to emphasize its relevance to architectural practice rather than treating it as a separate, theoretical discipline.

Initially, architectural history was tied to art history, focusing on building lectures. Over time, architecture schools have explored ways to integrate history into contemporary practice. For me, it comes down to two key aspects.

Many challenges we face today aren’t entirely new. Issues like sustainability were already discussed by Alberti in the 15th century—how to select materials based on conditions, where to source them, and how to engage with them responsibly. This ethical relationship with materials has been central to architecture for centuries.

Contemporary discourse often assumes every challenge is new, but history provides perspective and solutions. In my lectures, I focus on understanding past architectural decisions by analyzing original drawings. Even if they’re messy, they reveal an architect’s thought process, offering valuable lessons beyond just studying finished buildings.

ARCHITECTURE IS NOT FASHION

Architecture doesn’t follow seasonal trends—it’s a slow process that requires long-term thinking. Novelty should be about originality, not fleeting styles. I don’t think architecture right now needs new spaces, but what we need are original buildings that can adapt.

“ I don’t think architecture right now needs new spaces, but what we need are original buildings that can adapt”

Most buildings we study in history still exist today, not by chance, but because they were designed with longevity in mind. The choices we make now will have lasting impacts. If we build well, today’s architecture might one day appear in a history lecture. It’s crucial to see architecture as something enduring and ask ourselves: how can we contribute to that?

DAEDALUS IN PRESNET TIMES (ARCHITECTURE)

I think Daedalus is a great myth to engage with, especially for architects. His story is deeply tied to the Western idea of the architect—not just as a builder, but as an inventor and problem solver. He wasn’t only responsible for designing structures like the labyrinth; he also created tools, including the compass, and even made sculptures so lifelike they seemed to come alive.

This kind of intelligence—being resourceful, inventive, and adaptable— is crucial for architects today. Architecture isn’t just about constructing buildings; it’s about thinking cleverly within given constraints and responding to ever-changing challenges. These skills need to be cultivated in school because, in practice, the conditions will always shift—new tools, new materials, new problems to solve.

If architects can develop the ability to adapt and innovate like Daedalus, they’ll be better prepared for the uncertainties of the future. The questions will change, but the need for ingenuity remains constant. That’s why I think his story is still incredibly relevant.

If we don’t learn construction, we hand it over to engineers and lose—not just connection—but control over our own designs. Then it’s the engineer saying, we need 10,000 of these bricks, we can’t use those, and suddenly, we’ve lost control as architects.

Control is one issue, but so is the joy of architecture. In many places, architects spend time on-site, negotiating, working with craftsmen—very much like a Bricoleur, adapting as they go. But in Denmark and other advanced economies, the process has become linear. We create a schematic design, pass it to engineers, it goes into Revit, and from there, it’s out of our hands. Some contracts even forbid architects from being on-site.

This shift threatens the old dialogue of making. It’s not just about control—it’s about staying engaged with materials, processes, and real-world constraints. Today, we rely on software like BIM, aiming for a flawless digital model, but in doing so, we disconnect from the actual building process.

Yes, the old way was messier, but that messiness meant more interaction. Now, architects finish a project and move on, detached from how it’s built. Smaller studios still work closely with construction, but in big firms like Henning Larsen, site visits are just formalities—hard hats, photos, and no real involvement.

More graduates going into smaller offices could help rebuild this connection, but the system favors big firms. Municipalities and contractors prefer them, making it harder for small offices to compete. It’s all part of a larger shift in how we practice architecture today.

We all know it—we build too much. The entire economic system thrives on development, making any change deeply political. But the principles of sustainability are clear: build less, build better, make it last. If we use concrete, for example, and the building stands for 300 years, maybe it’s justified. But when places like Gellerup are demolished after just a few decades, the real problem isn’t just emissions—it’s disposability.

In the myth’s metaphor, what’s important for me is the critical importance of remaining close to our physical world. On the one hand, Daedalus crafting wings out of local materials, showing some kind of material intelligence. On the other hand, there’s the moral of the Icarus story—fly too high, and the wax melts; fly too low, and you fall into the sea. We focus on the sun, but the water part is often neglected.

If ambition leads to reckless overbuilding, fear leads to paralysis. Some say we should stop building altogether, and while the argument has weight and definitely more nuance. I can read that in a lot of the projects we do now at school, like it’s—let’s do architecture, but not too much. And everything’s a little bit safe.

Maybe we need that for a little bit, but I think it’s also important to, you know, try to stay flying, maybe not too close to the sun or too close to the water. Somehow we have to accept architecture’s consequences and try to make it as wonderful as we can, lasting as long as we can, being accepted, being loved by people as much as possible. Because then stuff stays. I think it’s hard to arrive at a kind of architecture, when you’re super safe, and timid maybe.

WE BUILD TOO MUCH

WHY RESEARCH ON STONE?

“I love getting on a bus and looking at how all the construction is and the different materials so that when the bus turns, it doesn’t break. If you’re sitting there in your headspace and focusing on your phone, you never notice it”

My research started because different things seemed to come together— particularly around stone. Right now, if we want to use a mineral-based material, our only real option is concrete, which has huge issues, yet no real alternative. In the past, it was always stone, so there’s an opening for another approach. Some engineers today argue we can build with stone again, not just as cladding but as a structural element. This fascinates me—historically, many buildings were made entirely of stone.

People react with skepticism, often associating stone with extraction, but they don’t think of extraction with concrete, even though it requires just as much material—sand, aggregates, minerals—except we burn it and add water. Why go through all that when you could just use the material as it is? My research is not so much about solving a problem, but pointing at some hidden things. One of them is extraction. The other one, was the building complexity, which is drastically reduced in a stone building and the fact that stone really lasts forever and you can reuse it forever. So if you have a stone block, you can just take it out and put it somewhere else. Whereas these elements, in situ cast concrete are difficult to reuse concrete elements, because they’re full of steel and other things and they’re engineered for very specific applications. I think that was kind of my own interest in not, as a problem solving, but as opening up new questions.

MATERIAL IMAGINATION

Historically, in the 19th century, there was a major debate about industrialization threatening craft—Semper and the industrialists, for example. But craft hasn’t disappeared; it has changed. Richard Sennett, in The Craftsman, redefines it as an attitude—taking care of your work. A nurse, a coder—both can be craftsmen. Even our mobile phones are incredibly crafted objects, not just in design but in the thinking behind them.

Yet, as digital tools become more advanced, they also pull us away from direct material engagement. On the train or metro, most people are absorbed in their screens, checking emails, scrolling through feeds. But if you put the phone down, even for a moment, you start to notice the world around you— the details of a door hinge, the way a bus is constructed so that it flexes but doesn’t break.

These small observations are a kind of material intelligence, a quiet awareness that is eroded when our attention is constantly elsewhere.This is not an argument against technology—robots and digital tools have their place—we have to stay engaged with making, whether through traditional tools or digital ones. It’s not about nostalgia—hand-cutting wood joints isn’t the future—but about being inventive. Daedalus is a great example: a craftsman, an innovator, even subversive, using his skills to escape constraints. That’s the mindset we need today.

For a deeper exploration, Jonathan’s research on Nordic marble in Material Imagination: Reconnect with the Matter of Architecture examines the historical, philosophical, and sensory dimensions of materials. Through Nordic wood, Nordic marble, and concrete, the project reveals new ways these materials interact with architecture and the human body.

KULTURHUS PÅ NEXØ HAVN

FRA KORNSILO TIL BIBLIOTEK

JONATAN BASHARI

DET KONGELIGE AKADEMI

Projektet er en transformation af et tidligere industrianlæg på Nexø Havn og har været udstillet på Folkemødet på Bornholm og bidraget til debatten om siloernes bevarelse. Disse anlæg fortæller en lang historie om den industrielle udvikling i Nexø og Bornholm, men alt for mange industrielle bygninger er desværre forsvundet fra Bornholm.

Derfor undesøger jeg, hvordan en transformation af det industrielle landskab på Nexø Havn kan transformeres til et kulturelt formidlings- og mødested. Det skal fortælle de næste generationer om Bornholms industrielle historie inden den nye lokalplan bliver til virkelighed og DLG-siloerne forsvinder for altid.

Det er derudover – men mindst lige så vigtigt – et led i den grønne omstilling at udnytte den eksisterende bygningsmasse og dermed styrke de arkitektoniske kvaliteter, der med tiden er gået tabt.

I denne omgang fokuserer jeg primært på den plansilo (Bygning C), der transformeres til et bibliotek. Jeg vil skabe et bibliotek, fordi der er enighed blandt bornholmerne om, at øens folkebiblioteker er vigtige i forhold til at tiltrække tilflyttere og indsluse dem i lokalsamfundet. Mit projekt skal forstås i lyset af

debatten om det besparelsesprojekt, som Bornholms Kommune har igangsat, hvor man kun vil bevare folkebiblioteket i Rønne og lukke de seks resterende filialer rundt på øen.

På øens borgermøder er man utilfreds med den plan, og meldingen er, at bibliotekerne er vigtige, fordi de

er mere end et sted, hvor man låner bøger. Det skal være et sted, der samler bornholmere og besøgende i Kulturhavnen i Nexø, så de efterladte og udtjente industribygninger bliver generobret og deres kulturhistoriske vægt og stemme genkaldt.

Jeg har taget udgangspunkt i de eksisterende træk i bygningen. Lysskakterne har jeg ladet komme i spil på ny. De overdrives bl.a. med det formål, at beboerne i Nexø skal kunne se dem fra deres hjem og få det indtryk, at havnen er blevet vækket til live. I reolsystemerne, der er en del af rummenes indre konstruktion, anvender jeg ler, der fungerer lydisolerende. Reolerne er flytbare og muliggør, at bibliotekets gæster selv kan få lov at definere rummet.

Rendering af auditorium

Rendering af bogreoler på 2. sal

Det industrielle udtryk bevares indvendigt, fordi jeg omplacerer de udvendige betonelementer og bruger dem i den indre konstruktion, som et ”hus i huset”. Det fordelagtige ved at genbruge dem er, at de på den måde samtidigt fungerer som bærende konstruktion og som brandvægge.

Historisk kontekst af silofaciliteter

Skitseproces af transformationer

Siloerne er et massivt betonanlæg, der er opført over flere omgange. De første cylindriske siloer blev bygget i 1952, og senere blev flere siloer tilføjet, med de sidste plansiloer færdiggjort i 1973.

DETALJE STÅL TRÆ OG BETON Mødet mellem de genbrugte stålprofiler i den semi-opvarmet del af facaden

WANDER WONDER

THEO DAVIES JONES AARHUS SCHOOL OF ARCHITECTURE

The main focus of the project was ensuing that all people, irrespective of ability can have access to wilderness, and so we have employed strategically placed multisensory walkways in order to safely navigate people with a variety of needs through woodland space into situations where they may have organic encounters with wilderness. The narratives of this project rely heavily on children’s literature and descriptions of wonderous

experiences with nature; such as fairytales and storybooks. The project also seeks to remain grounded in the reality of the site bu utilising natural forces; such as the movement of animals (in this case pigs) over the site, and embracing the effects this will have on the topography to renaturalise these areas of countryside that have been intensively farmed for many years.

The hope is that this will create magical woodland space that

enlivens the wonder in all of us as we wander through Wander while we wonder is a project based on the reforestation of areas of Bedsted in Thy on the West Coast of Denmark. The area is one in decline, therefore the challenge that faces us is how we can manage the spaces created by those who have left in a way that retains the spirit of Thy, but beautifies and celebrates the area.

PIG DAMAGE/ NATURAL RESURFACING

The waterfront portions of the project rely heavily on the dedicated work of the pigs we intend to introduce. The choice of pigs is one largely based on local species, which we have found in Western Jutland (and Denmark more generally) to mean Landrace Pigs There are two sub-species we will be introduciang within this type, the Danish White Landrace (Hvid) and the Danish Piebald Landrace (Sortbroget).

The Pigs will provide an essential function to the topography of the site over a period of 20 years, after which point they will be free to roam the matured woodland and create homes for themselves across this large site around Bedsted. The function they will be performing will be that of landscaping crew. This idea is that the canal that will replace the road in the middle of the site acts as a visual impediment in the landscape that we hope to turn into a ‘natural looking’ site due to its strict lines and direction.

The ambition is that by placing the pigs on the South Bank, they will sufficiently disrupt the soil in the area in order to create a more natural wetland topography and develop an organic feel to the canal-side. Pigs will root in the soil and move earth in astounding quantities given enough time, and we hope that in this site they will create ‘hog-wallows’, which in turn will fill with water and become ponds and tributry streams in order to bleed into the canalside. As illustrated above, pigs can have a decisive impact on the soil and create significant typological shifts in terrain that we hope will drive the resurfacing of our canalside. The creation of this wetland habitat will also mean the eventual growth of reedbeds and other marine plant life that will hopefully act as safe habitat space for insects and small animals on the site. The other important time consideration is how to keep them local to the river bank for long enough for them to change the surface conditions and not destroy the young forest beyond the designated canalside zone.

The answer will be drystone walls. These will act as barriers to keep the pigs penned by the river bank, however they will also naturally fall apart and ultimately create will become rubble and rocks in the landscape. This has the dual effect of slowly releasing the pigs into the rest of the wilderness once the trees there have had a chance to sufficiently mature so that they wont be destroyed by the pigs but also the rocks will ultimately create habitats for small insects and creatures in the landscape and provide their own ecological function in the long term. The planting on this site is also an important consideration as the pigs will pose a significant risk to young plants and trees. We have chosen pear trees both for their ability to deal with wet conditions (as necessary by the canalside) but also the hope is they will be productive fruit trees and provide food for the pigs to eat during the right seasons. The pigs will otherwise find their own food by digging, however it is good to guarantee some form of natural food source in their enclosures.

Directional Planting:

As another of the tools used in order to create a multisensory navigational system, we will be using directional planting at the turning points in the path and in the walkway which will give smell cues to the users of the walkway in order to direct people through space. This however comes woth challenges of seasonal change. The issue with using traditionally olfactory plants (i.e. flowers) is that these will only bloom at certain times of year. Because of this we will also be placing logs and other decaying matter as mushrooms pools in order to create unique smell profiles for the winter and autumn months also. That will also create the opportunity for controlled and safe foraging given the careful selection of safe species of mushroom.

The Walkway and Fauna

The walkway poses a number of both challenges and opportunities for local fauna. On the one hand, it can offer habitat and shelter for smaller creatures and instects among the concrete slabs at the base and it will introduce large bodies of rocks into the landscape. On the other hand however, it is a large, disruptive piece of infrastructure to place in a landscape. As far as possible the walkway has been broken up in order to ensure large animal species will not have obstructions to their movements, however we also want to ensure base arrangements that form bridges. In this way we can see at the base of the walkway the structure is broken up and separated in order to allow the movement of animals through and around the structure.

Tactile Flooring:

These tactile flooring panels will be used throughout the development, both in the walkway and embedded within the pathways in between. The floor pannels give the four primary directional instructions one might need in order to navigate the site (Left, Right, Go and Stop). They will be a surface treatment that will allow people to both feel (under their feet as they walk) and also see clear directional instructions. They can be moulded or carved, depending on the required materiality of their location. They also serve as visual indicators of designated pathway in places where people may otherwise be confused or disoriented by the route

These proposed floor panels are an important part of the multisensory navigation of the site. They have a simple structure but can be embedded in both raised walkway structure and pathway on the rest on the rest of the site. They are designed to use the materiality of the box to create sounds. The acoustic nature of them also garentees a soft sound, avoiding shock or discomfort for acoustically sensitive users. The structure of the boxes is that of a snare drum, where a skin is stretched beneath the surface to reverberate against it when struck (stood upon in this case). The Boxes give the same four directional instructions (Go, Stop, Left, Right) as the tactile flooring in order to deliver people safely through the site.

This section of handrail is intended to show the full variety of information the hand rail can give a user. The top surface is responsible for directional instructions warning users about the upcoming turns in the path the thin surface is simply an indicator of transitional places between pathway and raised walkway to make users aware of their place in the walk. The vertical surface is given over to landmark indicators. This will be used in order to give visitors a touch cue to understand what they might be about to see or hear. This applies both to artificial landmarks like Waystones and Garden Ruins as well as natural landmarks, such as transition zones between different forest types and areas where animals may be present.

YEAR 1: ‘CREATION’

The initial phase of development on the site requires the instigation of the physicla infrastructure that will provide the framework for the forestation strategy. Because of this we see in ‘Creation’ the replacement of the roadway with a man-made canal, the ruination of the property on the North Bank, the construction of the manmade bridge that leads visitors to the site, the placement of the Waystone/Wastestone and hte planting of the early pioneer trees. Most crucially we see the introduction of the pigs and the construction of the dry-stone wall that will (for some time) keep them close to the river bank.

YEAR 10: ‘PROGESS’

The second stage of this development charts the progress made by pig and plants alike in their designated areas of the site. At the bank of the canal, we can start to see the activities of the pigs sculpting the landscape, digging trenches that in turn fill with water and create pools and ponds. They will have also aided the process of natural erosion along the waterfront, hopefully pushing the extent of the canal further into the landscape. The trees on both the dryland sites and wetland have grown, however due to the activity of the pigs a few of the pear trees will have died in their early years.

YEAR 20: ‘COMPLETION’

After twenty years the hope is that the forest will have reached a stage of maturity where it can mature peacefully with minimal human input from that point onward. At this point, the pigs have totally transformed the landscape of the area immidiately by the canalside and it will in turn have become a wetland landscape rather than simply a pig enclosure. The drystone wall at this point should have crumbled almost entirely, setting the pigs free to roam

The Trees have been selected based on their proximity to the waterline (Dryland to the south and Wetland to the North). Pear trees have been selected for the area of river bank where the pigs will roam. This is due to their tolerance of wet conditions and the hope that they will provide food for the animals beneath them. The dry stone wall is also constructed high at this point. This is because it will naturally fall apart (as inteded) in order to eventually release the pigs into the rest of the woodland, however the hope is that be-fore this they sculpt the earth nearest the canal into a natural topography where flora and fauna can thrive.

This is also the logic behind keeping them behind the wall until the dryland trees have had a chance to mature slightly. The Wall itself will have started to erode and crumble, however the hope is that after the 10 year period it will still somewhat act as a barrier, localising the activity of the pigs. We can also see early growth in the Garden ruin of the house on the North bank. This will be effectively a recepticle site where birds can deposit waste as they sit on the sticks erected in the garden.

the rest of the forest and they will have become rock habitats in the landscape for small flora and fauna. The dryland forest will have reached a level of maturity at this point where it will also become a habitat and shelter for larger animals and the hope is that it will become a haven for animals like deer and hares. The Garden ruin has also grown exponentially at this point, possibly even starting to sprout younger tree species out of the shrubbery that will have developed over the intervening two decades.w

EARTH CHAIR

METTE KORTE MARTINSEN

ROYAL DANISH ACADEMY

The year 2024 marks the 100-year anniversary of the furniture design programme at the Royal Danish Academy. The students were given the task of designing a Danish chair, but with the qualities and contexts of the present day. I posed the question:

What purpose will furniture serve in the coming 100 year?

To imagine the objects we design today in the scenery of 2124 is difficult, with how climate change, war, mass migration and extinction will change our lives and societies. As furniture designers, we strive to design for longevity, to make things durable through strength and aesthetics. But what if the world of 2124 calls for something completely different than the commercial world of today? If man-made and man-serving objects become obsolete for us, would they just be left in an abandoned landscape? Could they serve a different purpose, for another species?

Can a chair add to the world, rather than take away from it?

Rather than designing a chair, I designed a modular, flatpacking, biodegradable cardboard mold, to be lasercut semi-locally and delivered to the site. The Earth chair modules and connector pieces leave the sculpting in the hands of the user, equiped with nothing more than a packet of seeds and local soil.

In the 100 years following the AMOC collapse, Denmark will experience a -20° C temperature drop, rapidly launching us into an arctic climate. How will we react? Will we adapt our built environment and physical objects? Or will we flee to more humane climates, leaving everything behind?

Post-human phase:

Inspiration from the future: The AMOC (short for Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation) pumps warm water into the oceans surrounding northern Europe, making the climate mild and warm. A new model predicts AMOC’s collapse between 2025 and 2095, most likely in the years 2037-2070.

Inspiration from the past: Grave mounds, commonly found in the Danish countryside, have survived for thousands of years without much care and gain their character from the nature that overgrows them.

The lasercut cardboard slices are assembled by hand.

Then the modular structures are arranged on the site, joined with connector pieces, filled with local soil and topped with hardy sedum plant seeds. Over time, as the cardboard degrades, the roots take form and uphold the shape.

The modular parts can be configured in a multitude of ways, creating points, curves and lines to suit the individual site. A new varied landscape is formed by the mounds of the Earth chairs and the valleys from digging soil for the chairs. The hardy plants are better equipped for a shift into an arctic climate, and the water-storing valleys support biodiversity.

ARRIVAL AND OFFICE SPACE

A TRANSFORMATION OF TWO ABANDONED FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT CABINS IN A CAMPUS PROPOSAL FOR THE NEW THE SCHOOL OF ARCHITECTURE (TSOA) IN DARBY, MONTANA)

ANDERS ROVSING THE COOPER UNION

The School of Architecture, the architecture school created by Frank Lloyd Wright, is a nomadic architecture school that has been going through many phases and changes throughout the years. Now it’s facing a new one, the new dean has bought land on an empty field in Darby, Montana. When creating a masterplan for the new campus, a class at the Cooper Union had to negotiate through studies of other important masterplans of the world, from Vitra Campus to Acropolis. The final masterplan was split into programs where each student had to study their own program throughout model-making exercises of creating small ‘monsters’.

scan of ‘monsters’ model studies of room programs

Supposedly, they had to look at the site as a blank canvas. Ironically, there already existed two abandoned Frank Lloyd Wright cabins from an old masterplan that he did - a summer cabin site that never fully happened, some already torn down. Seeing these two abandoned cabins as cultural history especially for a school created by Frank Lloyd Wright, this project examines how the two estranged cabins can be reconnected through an architecture that both learns from Wright, but also challenges Wright within its monster-like nature. Throughout this new marriage of the cabins, they, together, become the new entrance to the campus and tells a story of what was already there when the school arrived- giving the nomadic expression.

The project argues that architects never should see a site as a ‘blank canvas’ and in this way it contradict the semester project and the professor’s wishes in its own existence. Self-destructive when protecting what’s there and seeing beauty in wasted potential monsterlike nature. Throughout this new marriage of the cabins, they, together, become the new entrance to the campus and tells a story of what was already there when the school arrivedgiving the nomadic expression. The project argues that architects never should see a site as a ‘blank canvas’ and in this way it contradict the semester project and the professor’s wishes in its own existence. Self-destructive when protecting what’s there and seeing beauty in wasted potential.

The connector of the two buildings consists of a tower, a bridge, a meeting room, and office spaces. The tower as a symbol for the new school as well as working as a bell tower. The bridge as a scenic way of showing the site, the monsters, and the fragments of the past. The office spaces as buildings that have learned from the abandoned Wright buildings. And the Wright buildings find themselves restored, transformed, and with a new function that still relates to its past function.

The floating minesweeper is a pseudo-game developed in response to the quest of ‘becoming soil’.

Employing the graphic language of a step-bystep (dis)assembly manual, as well as that of a well known gaming interface, this work tries to imagine some possible scenarios in unsealing the rainwater retention basin of floating university, creating new opportunities for soil-care related activities and research in the process.

Observations

The site at floating can be roughly categorized into functional parts by the characteristics of their ground: a ring of sloped hills where trees and other vegetations grow densely forming a seemingly stablized ecosystem; and the concrete basin in the middle where subsoil has been sealed for decades. Upon a closer look, the soil composition forming the green stripe can be further sub-divided into grown soil, soils on rubble and compost

On the other hand, sludge from the Tempelhofer Feld is constantly washed from the airport building into the basin, where it accumulates and is regularly removed.Through my visits to the site I observed that, in addition to those soil types found on site, the ground of the concrete basin also had a swampy, soil - like texture. It turns out that a considerable layer of algae has accumulated there, in some places thick enough to allow vegetations to root. This discovery made me wonder, is there a role (and if so, what) played by algae in support of soil growth?

Symbiosis / Erosion

A biological succession which takes place when a new land is formed from a lifeless area where life can now be sustained is called a Primary Succession. They may take place, for instance, following the eruption of volcanoes. Species that arrive first in the newly formed ecosystem are considered pioneer species, and they establish a simple initial biological community through their interactions.

When new species arrive, this group becomes more complex. The first species to inhabit bare rock are usually lichens

A lichen is a composite organism that arises from algae or cyanobacteria living among filaments of multiple fungi species in a symbiotic relationship.

Acids that break down the rock and start the process of soil formation are secreted by lichens living on bare rock. They provide organic matter to the soil when they die. Mosses will then colonize the thin soil; the soil thickens further when moses die, other hardy species to colonize that land. The century-long process continues, forming a mature forest at last.

Of course, setting up data collecting instruments means having to record them manually at regular intervals. To make this work, a hands-on approach can not be avoided (nor should it be: it’s fun! In the hotter months anyway...). Could they be taken on as part of existing soil workshop cycles? How to delegate the responsibilities while making those collective learning moments more meaningful and enjoyable?

Landscaping

If the act of unsealing the sub-soil beneath the basin risks losing the capacity to retain water, perhaps an alternative way of thinking would be to build up a new landscape atop the concrete basin floor, forming one or multiple islands within which new soil processes can be cultivated, new ecosystems established.

LAND [raum] LIEBE

TINA TODOROVIC, MATHIS LEHNA UNIVERSITY OF STUTTGART

In rural areas, fundamental questions of our coexistence are decided. In this draft, we examine the barns of a turkey farm in northeastern BadenWürttemberg. Our most important insight: The various dependencies of conventional agriculture often result in monofunctional landscapes.

Competition for building and cultivation land, dependence on global feed supply chains, and fierce price wars on supermarket shelves are pushing conventional turkey farming into an industrialized form of agriculture.

Rural context

building

We want to introduce diversity into the spaces of conventional agriculture by testing a transformation process at the turkey barns. Using the existing structures as a resource, we remove building components and reassemble them in different locations. The hall structures provide steel frames, wall, facade, and roof elements.

In this way, we weave a new spatial fabric from the existing structure, creating pathways, gardens, and plazas. Meat production is significantly reduced and supplemented with permaculture vegetable farming, commercial uses, and living spaces. The result is a densified space of possibilities—socially, economically, ecologically, and in terms of urban planning.

A transformed agriculture is more resilient and creates synergies with the village community: The permaculture turkey farm also provides space for housing, businesses, and social infrastructure.

Section and floorplan

Situationplan transformation

Structure and permaculture

A (NEED FOR) NEW SUBURBAN DREAM(S)

An adaptive transformation of a detached residential dwelling in Åbyhøj, Aarhus. This is a result of a short (week long) exercise that has space for development architecturally but is here to reveal its soul...

When daydreaming about suburban domesticity, I considered the most urgent task to rethink our obsolete, destructive but ever so sweet “Dream” that gave shape to “detached single family housing” typology for more than a hundred years ago. That Dream has shaped the monofunctional residential areas to be spatially consuming and socially draining in extreme ways. I argue that this detached family housing typology, mostly hosting nuclear families in isolation to one another, has been playing a huge role in social regression in our societies (or even a global “society”). Adding to the equation, in a task to find new ways of living we need to consider inclusion of more human and non-human diversity. That is also because to just See “the other”. To see the complex in which we are living. To also see the good and the bad. To have space (but also time) for meetings and for discussions that could also develop into important ones both in individual and societal terms.

The project concentrates on the existing structure and proposes a minimal intervention. In reconfiguring the existing, the floorplan found new solutions which allow a totally new way of life to happen in the dwelling.

The lower ground floor is connected to the backyard garden, now given to nature to develop. The interior spaces are now directed towards that outdoor space in order for the outdoors to feel more inviting from the inside. Previously accommodating two bedrooms, the floor now has four. This allows the house to host two roomfuls of more people in the house. Today the two bedrooms are dwelled by a family with two children. The family could now rent out the other two bedrooms. They could house a student and an elderly couple just to make an example. The rooms are connected by a shared room where one could make a preferred hot drink (as there is a possibility to boil water) or read a book. The whole downstairs area is for spending some more private and quiet time in the praise of shadows and scarcity of direct sunlight. Here, less is enough.

When taking the stairs up one finds their way to a shared floor where communicating, cooking, and doing the laundry takes place. The table surfaces that are all shared between the dwellers of the household are highlighted in the plan as much of the contributions to the society take place probably behind those surfaces. That could be in the form of conversations, writings, readings, drawings etc. This upper ground floor is also connected to the community, the street. The new spatial addition is looking Towards the street and by doing so is also opening part of its interior space up to observers From the street.

The project builds itself around the belief that a “new culture” is to be built around sharing. The main aim of this project is to propose a new Dream for the single family residential houses, to make them less isolated and accommodate more people with different ages and configurations of families. That is, to connect and also to use less resources per capita. To rethink our spatial relationships with the human and non-human. To create spaces for interactions that could contribute to the individual threads of thought as well as to the big discussions we face today as a society.

RECOMMENDATIONS

THE DROLATIC DREAMS OF PANTAGRUEL

The Drolatic Dreams of Pantagruel (Les Songes drolatiques de Pantagruel), published in 1565, is a collection of 120 surreal and grotesque woodcut illustrations.

Though attributed to François Rabelais, there’s no concrete evidence he authored it. The book was printed by Richard Breton and fits within the Renaissance fascination with the bizarre and monstrous.

The images depict strange, comical, and often monstrous humanoid figures, blending elements of satire, fantasy, and the grotesque.

THE MUSHROOM AT THE END OF THE WORLD

The Mushroom at the End of the World (2015) by Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing explores the matsutake mushroom as a lens for understanding survival, capitalism, and ecological resilience.

This prized fungus thrives in disturbed landscapes, creating networks of foragers, traders, and consumers across cultures. Blending anthropology, ecology, and economics, Tsing challenges traditional ideas of progress, highlighting collaboration and adaptation in a world shaped by environmental and economic instability.

DEN GRØNNE UNGDOMSBEVÆGELSE HOUSEEUROPE.EU

Den Grønne Ungdomsbevægelse (DGUB) er en dansk ungdomsbevægelse, der arbejder for en grøn og retfærdig fremtid. Bevægelsen blev etableret i foråret 2018 af studerende fra forskellige videregående uddannelsesinstitutioner, men er åben for alle unge, der ønsker at engagere sig i klimakampen.

For mere information eller for at blive involveret kan du besøge deres officielle hjemmeside: [https://www.dgub.dk/](https://www.dgub.dk/)

HouseEurope! is a European Citizens’ Initiative advocating for policies that prioritize renovating buildings over demolition, aiming to curb speculation and promote sustainability. By preserving homes, resources, and cultural heritage, the movement seeks legislative change at the EU level. If it gathers one million signatures, the European Commission must consider its proposal.

Learn more at houseeurope.eu.

INDEX

EDITORS

ALEXANDER SKOVGAARD BAGGER HADI

ANDREA AASBØ DIETRICHSON

ANNE LINE ENGGROB

BARBARA BEHA SEIDLER

BIRKE LANGKJÆR JAKOBSEN

ELLEN ESMARK

HARALD STYRUP JANTZEN

IDA BJERGA

OLIVER FALLENKAMP

OSMO HADAD-LANGE

EDITORIAL

TEAM

AKSEL SMITH

ALMA WEIS

ANDREAS HOFFMAN

ANTON TWWADEUS

CAMILLA BRUN

CONRAD KJERSGAARD

EMIL ANKERDAL

HEKTOR EDVARD

JAKOB TAMSTORF

JOACHIM HALLGREN BÜNGER

JONATHAN SANKO

JULE CELINE

LAURA SASS MØLLER

LIV SMITH

LIVA KEIS

LUCIA ØSTERLUND

MALOU HOUGAARD

NOA MOURITZEN

RASMUS SPROGØE

SID SKAR

SIGURD ISENBECKER SOLHEIM

SØREN VISTI HANSEN

THEA NEVLAND ASSERSEN

ULRIKKE KNUDSEN

VICTORIA JANUM

VIKTORIA OSBAR

VIANA TORKZAD

VIOLA BAYER

KÅRK is a non-profit magazine provided free of charge to architecture and design students across Scandinavian countries, and any others with interest in the fields of design and architecture. It is made in collaboration between the students at Aarhus School of Architecture and the Royal Danish Academy.

We release a new magazine once every semester—each exploring a different theme.

A SPECIAL THANKS TO:

Aarhus School of Architecture Exners Plads 7 8000, Aarhus C

The Royal Danish Academy Philip De Langes Allé 10 1435 København

The KÅRK editorial team

PRINT:

PRODUCTION: Eks-Skolens Design & Tryk

PAPER: Profisilk 130g

FORMAT: 200x265mm

FONTS: Annisette Std. Roboto Mono Thermal VF