Conversations: Julia Treese and Kyle Dugdale

Kyle Dugdale When you introduce your work, how do you describe what you do?

Julia Treese We avoid words like traditional or classical. We describe our work as contextual and deeply rooted in the surrounding urban architecture and urban fabric. Of course we’re not just copying these things. Our design process always involves a lot of research. Inspiration is, first of all, sourced from the place itself. Over the last couple of years our work has also been infused with external precedents reminiscent of, for example, buildings near the site or architectures on the other side of the world.

KD That is context understood quite broadly.

JT Yes, absolutely. It begins with the place itself as the primary reference, but—like all architects before us—we also look at precedents. I believe it’s in the nature of the discipline to view the entire world as a rich and limitless source of inspiration. KD Why do you avoid the word classical?

JT Because I haven’t been trained in classical architecture. I believe our work is more akin to that of a sculptor—it involves an empirical process of experimenting and testing different ideas. We start with a mass and then develop it into something that feels deeply embedded in its location and familiar to its surroundings.

KD That’s very different to the idea of architecture as an assembly of component parts.

JT Is it really? Our approach doesn’t begin with merely assembling parts to create architecture. We start by contemplating the void that exists: the space that inherently seeks to be filled with architectural form. Our initial drawing is always a massing study, beginning with a solid block that is carefully manipulated and shaped to harmonize with the specific characteristics of the site. As we transition to working on the facade, we echo the same system by shifting weights, pushing elements inward and outward, and so on. This dynamic process allows us to sculpt the building in a way that responds organically to its environment so that the final design is cohesive and deeply integrated. Even at these early stages we make key decisions about how the building will relate to the cityscape and whether it should integrate harmoniously or stand out as a bold statement.

KD Would you say that this is equally true whether you’re working in an urban context with a robust character and coherent street front and continuous facades and so forth, or working in a suburban context where there’s none of that?

JT A strong context is the most exciting thing to work with. In one of his lectures Hans Kollhoff referred to architecture that has manners, that behaves appropriately. I think that counts for both contexts, the urban as well as the suburban.

KD What if the existing context is just totally wretched?

JT Or there’s no context at all?

KD There’s always geography, topography, climate. But what if the architectural context is just…

JT Giving us nothing?

KD Or exuding misery?

JT Well, I think even in misery you can find something. If it’s not through the architecture, it might be some form of spatial arrangement. What about the street in front of the site or the open space close by? Could the larger urban figure give an indication about what to do? We’ve worked in architectural contexts where there were few sources of inspiration, but we can always look at the broader picture. Take Schinkel, for example: he traveled extensively to gain new perspectives. When we say that we work contextually, it doesn’t mean we’re closing doors to anything. It’s in the nature of being an architect to travel and soak in the world and collect ideas that can inspire new designs.

KD Could I pick up on what you said about manners? First you said that you try to avoid the words traditional and classical; then you introduced the idea of manners. If I may play devil’s advocate for just a moment: I could imagine someone taking a look at your work and saying, “OK, fine. She doesn’t want to use the word traditional. But this is totally traditional. Not only is it traditional, it’s also well-mannered in a way that works well within existing structures of wealth and power, etc.” What do you say to those who feel that this is the wrong way to approach architecture— that what we need today isn’t good manners?

JT Our goal is not to convince everyone, and we do receive criticism that our architectural outcomes are very traditional and focus on projects that not everyone can afford. On the other hand, we also get unexpectedly positive feedback from people who appreciate the fact that our architecture blends in with and adds value to the city. Even if I can’t buy an apartment in one of our buildings, I can still walk by and enjoy it. As for those architects who might think we’re backward-facing—we probably won’t change their minds, but we believe our approach is meaningful. I’m not saying they’re wrong; we’re looking for coexistence.

KD But on some level, every architecture has a critique of every other architecture embedded within it. So in a way, your approach to the city is a rebuke of other possible approaches. Or at least you’re offering an alternative. And maybe, instead of manners, we could substitute civility. As a culture we could probably do better at rehearsing civility.

JT Exactly right. Over the decade we’ve been practicing, our architecture has not yet been taken into consideration as part of a cultural debate.

KD Has it not?

JT I think we’re partly to blame because we have not proactively sought out those discussions. Maybe now, after ten years, we feel a little more confident. It’s hard to make an argument if you have done only one building. But at this point, we’ve put out a substantial body of work that shows how it can be done.

KD It seems as if your work has so far done a good job of proving your case for certain typologies on certain kinds of street. Looking ahead, what else would you like to test? What do you still need to prove?

JT Our primary focus is residential. But we’ve been honored to participate in various studies where we were asked to develop master plans and larger urban-scale projects as counterproposals to existing master plans. It has sparked our interest in how this can be broadened not only to block infill but to actually create the street in front of it and the square around it. That’s becoming our new focus.

KD The word quality comes up regularly in regard to your work. But one could argue that the word is tied to the kinds of projects you’ve taken on. They’re the sort of projects for which there’s an expectation of architectural quality. Does it become more difficult to hold on to that quality as you expand beyond the kind of work you’ve done so far?

JT We have often debated this because we recognize that we are somewhat confined to building for the wealthy. We have deliberately tried to challenge this by asking, “Why is other architecture no longer focused on quality? Why does social housing have to be ugly and cheap? Why isn’t there a general interest in investing in quality?” This issue involves not only financial considerations but also building culture. If we’re investing enough money for our buildings to stand for more than 100 years, then I think that’s a good investment. Today’s building culture is advocating techniques that appear to be 100 percent eco-friendly and highly sustainable, and when you run the calculations, brick masonry can seem like a poor choice. But when you consider the long-term perspective, extending the timeline to 150 years, it becomes clear that brick masonry is actually very sustainable.

KD And what is labeled “green” doesn’t always look so green.

JT Many eco-friendly materials need to be replaced multiple times, whereas brick is durable and remains intact throughout a building’s lifespan.

KD What’s the typical life expectancy for your projects?

JT The sustainability programs in Germany typically limit a building’s projected lifespan to 50 years. We find this restrictive because it contradicts the very goals of sustainability, especially when advocating for materials like brick. It’s ambitious to say we want our buildings to be there in 150 years, but I think that’s the direction to head in. If we’re tearing down buildings that haven’t even made it past 20 or 25 years, then what are we doing as a building culture? In Germany there’s a noticeable lack of debate around architecture and urbanism as civic arts. Seeing architecture and urbanism as serving civic purpose should be in the interest of all of us, not only the architects.

KD Was this part of the discussion when you were a student?

JT I did my bachelor’s degree at Bauhaus-Universität Weimar. I was excited about the idea of interdisciplinarity and having an open field where I could kind of peek in and imagine a profession that is not limited to the field of design and architecture but could be influenced by the arts or structural engineering. Unfortunately by the time I was studying the Bauhaus spirit of interdisciplinary thinking had diminished. This left me disappointed. So, because my passion for architecture and cities remained strong, I decided to move to Paris and live there for a year.

KD Did you work for a Parisian firm?

JT I interned for Patrick Berger Jacques Anziutti architectes. It was just after they had won the big competition for Les Halles, where they built a huge canopy structure covering the atrium and train station below. I did endless models for it, which was fun. But I learned most during that time by taking my bike and grinding it through the city, up and down, left and right. This was an incredibly enriching time—one of two that were critical for my education. Afterward in Zurich, where I did my master’s, I was lucky enough to study with Hans Kollhoff.

KD For how long?

JT Two semesters: regular studio and then my diploma. In between those two semesters I worked for him as an intern for a year. That was the moment of enlightenment, when I finally felt that what was being taught in the studio resonated with what I was looking for. I will forever be grateful for that moment, and thankful to Hans.

KD Are the biggest unsolved problems you’re facing right now the kinds of things you’ve already spoken about in terms of scale and typology? Or are there interdisciplinary issues that need to be resolved?

JT I’ve lived in Berlin for twelve years now and have witnessed the developments. We were worried that the city missed its chance to serve as an architectural model, for example, in the redevelopment area behind the main train station. While the initial planning presented a highly ambitious project aiming to incorporate the Berlin block typology as a core element of city identity, these well-intentioned goals were ultimately transformed into investor-driven developments. Instead of parceling out the blocks they made uniform architectural structures, leading to a cityscape that feels largely anonymous. It doesn’t have the things we were looking for or striving to do in our architecture, which is a certain individuality or resemblance to the context of a city. The best way to add to existing architecture is to form an address, a home, while still being part of the chorus of neighbors who are all singing the same song. You’re following some rules while allowing for individuality. In that sense, I think a lot of opportunities were just given away. If you look back at how the city was developed from the 1870s to the ’90s—the big boom—you will note that it was mainly private. The first developers bought these blocks and then split them up and sold the houses individually, with only a few rules about how the buildings would have to be constructed. Of course they were already dipping their toes into marketing, so there was this idea of creating unique houses and architectural styles, but they all behaved within that entity.

KD You say that Berlin had an opportunity, but it sounds as if the problem was not architectural as such. It had more to do with development models and financial incentives, and so forth. Do architects bear the responsibility for addressing that problem?

JT Probably not entirely. But then again, who else would take responsibility for that? Who else would create guiding principles to ensure that architectural projects align with the city’s identity and long-term vision? I try to avoid creating strict disciplinary boundaries because I believe everything in architecture should be viewed as a whole. Architects can be urbanists, and urbanists can be architects. There’s no contradiction. I think there are opportunities, especially if you look back and see how guiding principles for cities have been set up and remained valid for a certain time—and it worked. There is probably not a single answer, but a first step could be to write a manifesto saying, “This is how we envision the city of the future” —to address not only problems of infrastructure, ecology, diversity, and social justice but also things like beauty, attractive common spaces, and the way we would like to coexist with one another.

KD With regard to teaching studio: What if a student plans to graduate and build in suburban Phoenix, or Doha, or Lusaka, or somewhere that doesn’t share the specific urban history of a city like Paris, or Berlin’s commitment to building solid urban fabric? How do you argue for the relevance of your pedagogy?

JT I would say with certainty that if European urbanism can teach you anything, it is how to coexist within a certain density. It’s a proven model with certain rules that teaches us aspects of making and sharing spaces that are usable, adaptable, and simply good for people to be in.

KD Are they also universal in some way, or transferable across geographies and cultures?

JT I think we would be justified in saying that a good square or street has certain recognizable characteristics that we can discuss intelligently—which brings me back to the general question of whether there should be a more active architectural debate in society at large.

KD I’ve always thought of Berlin as a place where architectural debate could flourish.

JT Yes, though I would not say it’s completely open. There’s a wall around it. You have to be invited into that architectural debate.

KD But the classicists and the Modernists rarely talk to one another…

JT Exactly. There is a strange battlefield line drawn between those two camps.

KD Except that both sides think they’ve won the battle. Or at least they both think they’re right and the others are wrong.

JT I’ve taught at Notre Dame, where there was a lot of heated debate on Modernism versus classicism. This is what interests me most about coming to teach at Yale.

KD Would you say it’s a debate that needs to be renewed for each generation?

JT Yes. I strongly believe that the next generation will have to take both into consideration. Every generation has to pursue its own debate on how to reconcile history with modernity and vice versa, how to renew tradition—what has been passed down to us, and what we will pass on to the next generation.

KD Who comes to mind when you think of architects wrestling successfully with the question of how to bring these positions together?

JT We are definitely wrestling with this ourselves. But “wrestling successfully” can be understood broadly. An approach to bringing those two worlds together could be defined through a shared sense of proportional and structural logic that has to do with the human scale and more durable ways of building—leaving the blob phase behind. Perhaps this could become a common ground.

KD Do you see anyone—schools, magazines, or organizations—championing that way of thinking right now?

JT Maybe, but more in the medium of urban scale and Stadtbaukunst, as we call it, the civic art of urbanism. There are forces in Germany, such as the Institut für Stadtbaukunst, that put the architectural debate on the back burner and focus more on the nature of cities that we want to live in.

KD You argued that this is not connected to questions of architectural style. But if we take seriously what you said at the beginning, it feels as if particular attitudes to the city end up expressing themselves within the memories of specific ways of building.

JT That’s correct—and certainly intentional. It reflects the essence of what makes cities unique and distinct from one another. It is through familiar forms and building practices that our collective memory and understanding of urban spaces are shaped. Rather than adhering to a specific style, it’s more about tapping into shared experiences and associations that resonate with how our cities evolve and are perceived.

KD Yet the moment you start talking about collective memory, you have to talk about the materials of which the city is built. And the moment you start talking about materials, you have to talk about glazed curtainwall construction versus solid masonry buildings, and so forth. And the moment you start talking about real masonry, the question of vocabulary is not far behind.

JT The way we would like to build today is open to a lot of different styles.

KD But there are some ways of making buildings that are off the table.

JT That brings the conversation back to our commitment to a way of tectonic and proportional thinking: first of all, the proportions of the human scale that invoke the question of the right ratio between a wall and an opening, and the tectonic logic that emerges out of that. For example, you cannot support the weight of a slab on nothing. Therefore certain ways of constructing and building would not come to mind for us because we would not see them as in any way related to the human scale and to proportional and structural thinking. We follow these conventions because to abandon them risks severing architecture from its civic responsibility and reducing it to fleeting spectacle. By embracing these principles—structural clarity, human scale, and tectonic logic—our goal is to create architecture that is both rooted in its time and capable of transcending it.

KD An architecture that takes its civic responsibility seriously, that is both rooted in its time and capable of transcending it, that is able to engage constructively in the interplay between mass and void, between light and shadow… Those ideas can be understood both literally and metaphorically —and they strike me as being newly pertinent today. There’s a little manifesto right there.