What makes Switzerland different

AC: I've been living in Switzerland since 2011. From the moment I arrived, I had the impression that the country was evolving, a sense reinforced by conversations with new colleagues and employers. I felt like I arrived just as the country was undergoing significant change, particularly in places like Lausanne. I sensed that the country was moving forwards, and as I settled in, I became more aware of the developments around me. This was after the 2008 financial crisis—a time when many young architects from countries like Italy, Spain, and Portugal were leaving in search of opportunities abroad. Some of my friends moved as far away as China, while I spent time in Latin America before eventually returning to Europe and settling in Switzerland.

When I arrived, I noticed a significant influx of architects from different countries. I’m not certain when exactly this trend started, but it was clear that something noteworthy was happening. Switzerland’s economic stability and its resilience in the face of crises like the 2008 crash and later COVID-19 offered a strong sense of security. This, in turn, motivated people to take entrepreneurial risks, like starting architectural practices. There was a shared sense that the economy remained active and that taking a chance could lead to new opportunities.

Starting an architectural firm requires a level of confidence, and that confidence comes from a belief that the risks you're taking aren't insurmountable. The country's economic and political stability, as well as favourable laws and interest rates, likely contributed to this optimistic outlook. People, including young individuals, were feeling optimistic enough to invest in things like building their own homes. As an architect, this fertile environment offered an ideal place to express your ideas and build your practice. And this motivated people to found new firms. Over time, I noticed an increase in new architectural practices, also reflected in the growing number of participants in design competitions.

Making ideas a reality

AC: For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamed of working independently, of sitting in a café sketching my own ideas and then bringing them to life. Though I knew I wanted this, I also knew that it would be a hard path before I could put myself in that position.

In 2009, after the happy end to my studies at the Polytechnic school in Milan, I had the opportunity to work at the university for a while, which was a theoretical and intellectually stimulating environment. However, I worried that if I stayed too long in the academic field, I might never actually build anything. So I went for professional experiences in the field, and I found myself in some rough waters.

In 2010, after an 8.8 earthquake in Chile, I went there to work for the firm Pezo von Ellrichshausen, a firm I greatly admired at the time. But probably I had oversold myself, creating too high expectations by my employers.

I quickly realised I lacked the practical skills they needed and this created some tensions. It was a reality check, and I understood that I had to improve fast. 

So my time in Chile was tough, but it was valuable. I worked hard to make myself useful and learned a lot. When I returned to Europe, I focused on gaining more experience, always keeping in mind my desire to start my own practice. I spent my time working for three different Swiss practices over almost 10 years, and eventually, after building confidence and developing a deeper understanding of the Swiss context, I felt ready to start my own business. 

I started Concrete and the Woods in 2018, initially as a part-time activity in which testing ideas and solutions. It eventually became my full-time job. With the support of a few clients who trusted me, I was able to take the leap into running my own practice. So, while developing and building projects, I had to think not just about design but also about economics: this thing had to be financially sustainable. Balancing creativity with financial stability became an important part of how to run my practice. (It’s a challenge to do both without one contaminating the other, but I believe it makes the work more grounded in reality.)

Finding his way

AC: When I first arrived in Switzerland, concrete was widely used, and I greatly admired the work of firms like Buchner Bründler Architekten, Christ & Gantenbein, and Herzog & de Meuron. Since then, there has been a growing awareness of ecological concerns which has fostered an evolution in the conception of construction systems and materials in architecture, making the practice more interesting and meaningful in our time. 

I felt that embracing this change is essential for our generation, approaching architecture in a way that aligns with today’s broader context. Without considering the bigger picture, we run the risk of being irrelevant to what’s truly needed—needs that go beyond ego, client demands, or economics.

If we focus too narrowly on architecture alone, we risk getting stuck in solutions that exist only within the architectural world. An open mind approach, selecting solutions and materials that make the most sense for the specific moment and context, will help the profession be more relevant.

Learn, then learn again

AC: A few years ago, during the peak of concrete's use (which is relatively easy to design with), architects in Switzerland didn’t need to be as acutely aware of structural considerations, especially in the most commercial constructions. The hidden strength of the steel reinforcement within the concrete often compensated for less thoughtful structural design.

Building in Switzerland and Latin America has taught me something about this. Observing the construction differences between regions can open your eyes. In Switzerland, high labor costs drive the use of quick, efficient methods like heavily reinforced concrete slabs, even if it brings to an excessive use of metal and cement. In contrast, Latin America’s higher material costs shift the focus to optimising materials (like we used to do years ago in Europe) even if it means more complex structures and work. 

Today, the need for ecological solutions is forcing Swiss architects to get out of a comfort zone and, at the same time, explore a world of design opportunities that make use of rediscovered materials and the mixed use of traditional and new techniques. 

At my practice, I strive to remain as informed as possible about the technical solutions and materials we should be using, whether it's wood, earth, or something else. The key is not just to use them to be ecological but to learn how to use them elegantly, economically and in a way that they can enhance the architectural spaces. Something architects have always done in the past, but perhaps forgot at the beginning of the 21st century.

Nature

AC: When you have a new project, you often encounter both natural and man-made elements, and there’s a window of time during which the architect can intervene, hopefully build an interesting project but also maximise the natural presence of the unbuilt part of the site. It’s an opportunity—and a responsibility—to clear the site of unnecessary, previously built, man-made structures, making the soil permeable again and restoring harmony to the environment. Then, you can do a project, trying to minimise its footprint, while making a meaningful intervention in that specific place and moment.

A project that defines the firm’s values

AC: I did this project called REMO—an acronym for Renovation in Morges— in a kind of upscale residential area in a small city named Morges, near Lausanne. The district had a working-class feel, with all its houses built in the 1950s. Our clients found an abandoned house with a small footprint on a long site. The house was not in a good condition, so we kept what we could for economical reasons and worked on a partial demolition, reconstruction and extension. 

But first we removed the elements that ‘polluted’ the site: concrete parking spaces and asphalt terraces. Our goal was to restore and maximise the natural qualities of the site so to then be ready to build an architectural project in a healthy and charming natural environment. 

The existing house had two floors, but one was deemed uninhabitable under Swiss law due to its low ceilings. To create the necessary space for the family, we decided to partially demolish the upper part of the house, including the roof and interior walls, while preserving the exterior walls made of cement bricks. We expanded the house by adding a horizontal extension to the first floor and constructing a new second floor with the help of a cantilevered concrete horizontal structure. 

The use of concrete was a logical choice for the new beams framing the existing construction, as it ensured structural cohesion while providing a rigid base for the new upper floor. These beams remain visible at the ceiling level, visually structuring the spaces in entrance, dining, and living areas. The extension is supported by slender wooden pillars (spruce) suspended from the cantilevered concrete beams. This volume features glass windows, seamlessly integrating the interior with the garden and creating a fluid transition between the two. The concrete frame is complemented by secondary wooden beams, which support the prefabricated upper floor. This level, entirely constructed in wood, houses the sleeping areas.

Solo but never alone

AC: In architecture, you're never truly alone. You are surrounded by collaborators, clients, institutions, and their voices and opinions. It’s essential to listen carefully and identify the good ideas, as you never know where they might come from. This process of synthesis can often lead to thoughtful and well-conceived projects.

Then there is the inner circle. My girlfriend, Olivia, who sometimes helps me break free from the hectic daily routine of architecture and see things from a fresh perspective. There’s David, a close friend and skilled architect based in Madrid. While we don’t see each other often, we exchange ideas over WhatsApp calls—or sometimes over a drink. His input tends to be more technical, and his perspective is always valuable for refining my projects. It is helpful to get a perspective from someone I respect. A key person is also Lionel, a biologist and a passionate scientist. He’s been a key figure in the restoration of natural areas on the rivers of the Leman (Geneva) Lake.  We’ve discussed several projects, giving him the role of ambassador for the needs of the planet earth. He can tell me how to intervene in a way that helps rebuilding nature while doing architecture for the people. What climate concerns are there? What plantings make sense ? What animals might benefit form them? It’s always a question of scale and Lionel helps me understand what we can do, whether on a small or large site, to improve or repair the natural presence.

There are as well the wood engineers I collaborate with. During a project, they become my closest allies. These experts bring invaluable knowledge to not only make the project work but to elevate it to a truly refined level. Questions arise, such as: Where is the wood coming from? Does it really make sense to use this particular type of wood? Should we reconsider using CLT, given the amount of glue involved? Can we prioritise using local wood? How can we compose the structures elegantly? 

I believe architects need to continuously improve, even if we hold degrees and credentials. It is essential to keep enhancing our understanding of construction techniques over time and, more importantly, we must remember that this is the one and only planet we will spend our lives on. As humans we are shaping our habitat, and as the dominant species, we have a responsibility to use every construction project as an opportunity to restore the Earth's natural features, which we have been degrading for centuries.