16.06.2026

Architecture for Digital Twins of People

Building design

Aerial view of white buildings, photographed by CHUTTERSNAP

The human digital twin—it sounds like science fiction, but it’s the next logical step on the path to data-driven architecture. While cities are already experimenting with urban digital twins, a more radical development is taking shape: architecture designed for digital representations of people themselves. What does it mean when not only buildings but also their users are incorporated into the planning process as dynamic, modelable data objects? Who benefits from these new possibilities—and who will pull the ethical emergency brakes?

Architecture for digital twins of people moves beyond the realm of pure building design and integrates human behavior patterns, physiology, and preferences into the planning process.
Germany, Austria, and Switzerland are exploring this topic—still tentatively, but with a growing drive for innovation, fueled by research and initial pilot projects.
AI-powered simulations enable highly detailed user profiles and open up new avenues for adaptive, resilient spatial concepts.
The promises: customized architecture, improved energy efficiency, greater comfort, and enhanced safety—but also new challenges in data protection and ethical governance.
Technical expertise in data integration, sensor technology, simulation, and digital ethics is becoming a key competency for planners and developers.
The architectural profession is evolving: moving away from purely formal design toward becoming a “human-in-the-loop” designer within the digital ecosystem.
Debates about loss of control, algorithmic biases, and the commercialization of human data accompany the euphoria.
In an international comparison, the DACH countries are adopting a wait-and-see but increasingly ambitious role—with an eye toward international pioneers and local characteristics.
Global architectural trends such as parametric design, “smart environments,” and sustainable user-centered design converge in the context of the human digital twin.

Architecture Meets the Digital Human: What Exactly Is a Human Digital Twin?

The human digital twin is neither a digital doll nor an avatar in a video game. Rather, it is a dynamic, data-driven representation of a real person—including their physiology, movement patterns, preferences, and, ideally, even their emotions. Sensors, wearables, smart home devices, and building technology provide the raw data. Algorithms and AI transform this data into models that can simulate and predict a person’s behavior, energy consumption, interaction with the environment, and even their daily rhythm. In an architectural context, this development is a game-changer. Suddenly, it is possible to design spaces not just for an idealized average user, but for real, dynamic individuals and groups—and to make the effects of architecture on health, well-being, and communal living measurable and controllable.

The vision: A building knows when to ventilate, heat, or dim the lights because it understands its users’ daily routines. It recognizes how many people are in each room and automatically optimizes acoustics, lighting, and even wayfinding. In a hospital, a patient’s digital twin can help doctors tailor treatments to individual needs and identify risks early on. In the office, the workspace becomes a connected ecosystem that responds to productivity, stress levels, and social dynamics. What sounds like a control frenzy has long been technically feasible—at least in laboratories and initial pilot projects in Scandinavia, the U.S., and Asia.

But what is the situation in German-speaking countries? In Germany, Austria, and Switzerland, the topic is still in its infancy. Research institutes such as the Fraunhofer IAO in Stuttgart and ETH Zurich are working on prototype solutions. The first hospitals and office developers are testing digital human twins for space and energy management. However, the big breakthrough has yet to materialize—skepticism is too widespread, regulatory requirements too complex, and the ethical implications too unclear. Nevertheless, the scene is growing: startups, software providers, and planning firms sense the next big thing, one that promises not only efficiency but also new business models.

The crucial question is less technical in nature and more one of attitude: Do we want to accept humans as data models in architecture? Or will humans remain the unknown entity that simply cannot be squeezed into algorithms? The answer to this question will determine how far digitalization will penetrate the built environment—and what role architects will play in the future.

One thing is certain: the digital twin of the human being is no longer a distant utopia. It is a rapidly evolving tool that presents the discipline of architecture with new challenges and opportunities—and in doing so, fundamentally redefines the relationship between space, users, and technology.

Technological Foundations and Digital Skills—What Architects Need to Know Now

Anyone thinking about architecture for human digital twins today must significantly expand their technical repertoire. It is no longer enough to draw CAD plans or produce beautiful renderings. Skills in data integration, real-time simulation, sensor technology, machine learning, and cybersecurity are in demand. Developing and maintaining a human digital twin requires close collaboration with software developers, data analysts, medical professionals, and social scientists. Architects are becoming interface managers who bring together technical, ethical, and design aspects. Without a fundamental understanding of data formats, interfaces, and the limitations of AI, one can quickly find oneself left behind—and overtaken by one’s own design.

The technical foundation is a network of sensors, wearables, digital devices, and building systems. All these elements continuously deliver data streams—often at one-second intervals. This data must be collected, filtered, anonymized, and formatted in a way that is suitable for simulations and forecasts. This is where platforms come into play that aggregate various data sources and make them accessible to architecture and planning tools via open APIs. The architect becomes a curator who decides which data is relevant, how it should be interpreted, and how it should be translated into actual designs.

Simulations based on human digital twins are anything but trivial. They require sophisticated algorithms capable of modeling individual and collective behaviors. Indoor climate, lighting conditions, acoustics, movement patterns, and even psychological factors such as stress or well-being are incorporated into the models. The challenge: There are often significant gaps between the model and reality. AI-based systems can help bridge these gaps—but they also introduce new uncertainties and sources of error. If one isn’t careful here, one can quickly end up with algorithmic biases and false assumptions that lead the planning process astray.

Another key area is the security of digital human data. Data protection, access rights, and ethical guidelines—all of these must be considered as early as the planning phase. Legal expertise is just as essential here as technical understanding. Planners who do not know how personal data is protected, processed, and deleted run the risk of treading on thin ice. The architecture for digital human twins thus becomes the interface between technology, law, and ethics.

All in all, this means that architecture for digital human twins requires interdisciplinary thinking, new skills, and a healthy dose of courage. Those who fail to invest in these capabilities today will be left behind by reality tomorrow—and will then have to watch as others set the standards.

Smart Spaces, Sustainable Solutions—Potential and Challenges for the Industry

The integration of human digital twins into architecture opens up unprecedented possibilities for sustainable construction and smart spatial concepts. Traditional sustainability goals—energy efficiency, resource conservation, and user comfort—can be achieved much more effectively through data-driven planning processes. Buildings that understand and anticipate their users’ behavior can dynamically adjust their energy consumption, optimize maintenance schedules, and even extend the lifespan of the building structure. This means less waste, greater resilience, and better adaptability to changing usage requirements.

Here’s an example: In modern office buildings, digital human twins can help control ventilation and heating systems based on actual needs. Sensors track how many people are in the building at any given time, what indoor climate is preferred, and whether windows are open or closed. The building systems respond to this in real time, saving energy while simultaneously increasing comfort. In hospitals, movement patterns can be simulated to minimize infection risks and improve the quality of the patient experience. In residential construction, anonymized tenant profiles could help design buildings that are more flexible and tailored to individual needs—without sacrificing privacy.

But as these opportunities grow, so do the challenges. Sustainability doesn’t end with energy consumption—it also encompasses the issues of social acceptability and users’ data sovereignty. Who decides what data is collected and how it is used? How can individual needs be reconciled with collective goals? How can we prevent a person’s digital twin from becoming a surveillance tool or a commodity? The industry is facing a paradigm shift that is not only technical but, above all, societal in nature.

Another challenge: the risk of algorithmic bias. When AI systems run simulations based on incomplete or biased data, false conclusions can quickly arise—for example, in the planning of escape routes, the distribution of light and air, or the design of communal spaces. The quality and diversity of the underlying data thus become critical success factors. Those who cut corners here risk not only poor architecture but also societal harm.

Finally, the industry must learn to deal with uncertainty and complexity. Digital twins of people are not static models, but dynamic, constantly changing representations. Planning thus becomes an iterative process in which feedback, adaptation, and correction are part of everyday life. For many planners, this is a nightmare—but for the bold among them, it’s an opportunity to finally understand architecture as a living, open, and learning process.

Global Trends, Local Obstacles—Where Do Germany, Austria, and Switzerland Stand?

An international perspective reveals that the vision of architecture for digital human twins is no longer an exclusive topic. In the U.S., high-tech campus operators like Google and Apple are integrating user behavior data into the planning of new work environments. South Korea and Japan are working on smart cities where the interaction between people and space is continuously optimized. Scandinavian countries are testing digital patient twins to improve hospital architecture and care processes. The trend is clear: architecture is moving closer to the user—technologically, socially, and economically.

Germany, Austria, and Switzerland are still lagging behind, but the pace is picking up. While the discussion in Germany is dominated primarily by data protection and ethical guidelines, Swiss universities and Austrian research initiatives are forging ahead more boldly. Zurich is testing digital user profiles in the context of sustainable neighborhood development. Vienna is testing smart healthcare buildings in which the behavior of patients and staff is modeled and simulated. In Germany, much of this remains experimental—there is significant fear of losing control, legal gray areas, and public criticism. Nevertheless, the first pilot projects are emerging in Berlin, Munich, and Stuttgart, showing where this journey might lead.

The biggest hurdle: the fragmentation of responsibilities and the piecemeal nature of the planning landscape. While international pioneers are relying on centralized data platforms and open interfaces, silo mentality still prevails in German-speaking countries. Municipal data protection officers, building inspection authorities, energy providers, and real estate operators often do not speak the same language—and thus prevent the scaling of innovative solutions. Anyone who wants to make progress here needs not only technical know-how but, above all, communication and mediation skills.

From a cultural perspective, the image of the architect as a creative lone wolf still dominates in the DACH region. The role of the data curator—the mediator between people, machines, and space—is still unfamiliar—but necessary if the vision is to become reality. The next generation of architects must learn to deal productively with ambiguities, uncertainties, and ethical conflicts. Only then can architecture for digital human twins be more than just a short-lived fad.

However, a look at international research and practice also shows that those who hesitate too long will be left behind by global players. The architectural community in Germany, Austria, and Switzerland faces a critical decision. Either it develops its own standards, interfaces, and guidelines—or it adopts the solutions of others, including their cultural and economic influences.

Debate, Criticism, Vision—The Future of Architecture with Digital Human Twins

Hardly any other topic is currently polarizing the architecture industry more than the question of the human’s role in the digital planning cosmos. Some see digital human twins as an opportunity to finally create truly user-centered, resilient, and sustainable spaces. Others warn of the loss of creativity, individuality, and human unpredictability. The fact is: Architecture for digital human twins is not a panacea—but neither is it a dystopian nightmare. It is a tool that must be used wisely and responsibly.

A key point of criticism: the danger of commercializing human data. When user profiles are turned into marketable products, data protection and privacy rights quickly come under pressure. This architecture risks degenerating into a service provider for the tech industry, which reduces people to data points and behavioral patterns. Clear rules, transparent processes, and a strong ethical stance are needed here—otherwise, the digital twin will become a Trojan horse in the smart building.

At the same time, the technology offers enormous opportunities for greater inclusion, participation, and social innovation. When digital twins help break down barriers, highlight individual needs, and make planning more participatory, everyone benefits. Architecture thus becomes a platform for negotiation processes between the individual and the community, between technology and society. Those who approach the topic in this way can create real added value—beyond mere efficiency and control.

Another debate centers on the quality of the models. The more complex a person’s digital twin is, the greater the risk of misinterpretations, biases, and distortions. Who decides which data is included in the simulation? How are uncertainties handled? Can an algorithm truly understand “behavior”—or is it all just an approximation? Architecture must learn to live with these gray areas and use them productively, rather than ignoring them.

Ultimately, the question remains: How much of the human element will remain in architecture once the digital twin takes over the design process? The answer is both sobering and encouraging: as much as we allow. The human digital twin is not an end in itself, but a tool. The quality of architecture will depend on how intelligently, sensitively, and creatively we use this tool—and how courageously we face the new challenges.

Conclusion: Between Data Overload and Design Courage—Architecture for Human Digital Twins Is at a Turning Point

Architecture for human digital twins is more than just technical progress. It is a paradigm shift that redefines the relationship between space, users, and data. Germany, Austria, and Switzerland are taking the leap into the data-driven age—slowly, but with growing self-confidence. The greatest challenges are not technical, but cultural and ethical in nature. Those who invest now in expertise, standards, and dialogue can actively shape the future of architecture. Those who hold back will be overwhelmed by international developments. The choice lies—as always in architecture—between courage, responsibility, and the will to create.

22.01.2025

Project

Co-creation instead of participation

Building design

Management

Participation versus co-creation: Would the Superkilen work better today if citizens had been integrated into the process from the outset?

Superkilen in Copenhagen has failed. The citizens as a whole use the square more as a place to pass through than to linger, even though they were integrated into the planning process through participation – according to a long-term analysis by students at the Danish Institute for Study Abroad. During the design and development process, the Superkilen planners asked citizens to suggest artifacts from their countries of origin for the new city square. Holistic planning with co-creation and prototypes would have been one way of increasing acceptance of the square.

Co-creation

Co-creation originally comes from the business world, which began to involve consumers in the product development process in the 1990s. The Leading Cities research group defines co-creation in urban development as “the active flow of ideas and information between five sectors: government, business, academia, non-profit organizations and citizens that promotes participation, engagement and development.”

What is the difference to citizen participation? Public participation is a means for planners to learn more about the attitudes and opinions of local residents and to develop new ideas. They increase acceptance for a project. Co-creation, on the other hand, involves the most important sectors of society on an equal footing from the outset.

It therefore offers citizens and citizens’ organizations a better opportunity to be truly heard and gain more influence in planning processes. Co-creation views users as proactive citizens rather than consumers, and focuses on long-term cultural change and the whole community rather than individual user groups. Where citizen participation seeks to integrate citizens’ opinions into an already prescribed program, co-creation helps future users to shape and enforce their own decisions. Co-creation is an endless process in the best sense of the word, with regular exchanges taking place between those involved.

Co-creation has a number of advantages. The public provides input and feels equal, citizens feel they are taken seriously. They become much more aware of their living environment. In return, the government has to be much more responsive and responsive to citizens and other sectors. In return, however, it saves costs because only what is actually needed and used is implemented and the risk of a new project is correspondingly low.

Prototypes

In large design projects such as Superkilen, it is extremely important to test ideas in advance before they become a permanent part of the landscape or city. It is a long way from the abstract idea, analysis and public participation to the concrete installation. The prototype should be seen as a learning tool that can be optimized and changed in the next step. Prototypes are a democratic way of dealing with public space, they also reduce the risk of a failed project and unnecessary expenditure.

The holistic approach

Combining co-creation with the prototyping approach makes it easier to explore the potential of a space. This holistic approach leads to more sustainable and vibrant places in the city. However, the Superkilen started with an assumption that co-creation and prototyping would have led to a different design. Users would accept the space better and make it more their own. Perhaps a more critical examination of the initial idea would also have been achieved.

You can read Bianca Hermannsen’s current analysis of the square here.
Robert Schäfer visited Superkilen in 2012, directly after the opening. You can read his review of the new city square in Copenhagen here.
Watch the video here to see how BIG travels with local residents to their countries of origin to select artifacts for Superkilen.

19.12.2024

Design

Heavyweight with a message

Building design

The Globo Uovo sculpture is an impressive work by stone sculptor Marc Reist and is currently on display at the Dürrenmatt Center in Neuchâtel, Switzerland. The artist made the 6.5-ton “global egg” out of white marble. In an interview with STEIN, the Swiss artist explains what message he wants to convey with his sculpture, why he only uses white marble and […]

The Globo Uovo sculpture is an impressive work bystone sculptorMarc Reist and is currently on display at the Dürrenmatt Center in Neuchâtel, Switzerland. The artist made the 6.5-ton “global egg” out of white marble. In an interview with STEIN, the Swiss artist explains the message hewants to conveywith hissculpture, why he only works with white stone and why he launched an appeal to collect eggshells before the opening.

Marc Reist: It’s a logical consequence of my artistic work and how I reflect on my surroundings by observing them. I notice how certain rules and mechanisms are similar on both a small and large scale. I never consciously came up with the topic, it just developed. I think it started in 2005.

The Globo Uovo symbolizes the world and the origin of life. Was there a specific reason for this idea?

Yes, that was in 2011. I was invited by a newspaper in Switzerland to write a few columns. I started to write about resources and food in these texts and about what bothers me: the way we deal with food, the way we deal with our environment. And during this phase, I designed the globe and then the egg. The eggs actually always resonate with me. Regularly for my wife – I only mention this in passing – for her birthday, for Mother’s Day, there are always drawings of chicken and egg. I either start with the chicken or the egg, but the egg always resonates.

Do the many openings in the sculpture also have a meaning?

The openings were created by the lines of longitude and latitude. And I found them very special as soon as I was able to work in the egg. There is a feeling of protection when you are in your human egg and you can see the outside world through these openings. At the same time, it could also be a prison. These feelings arose in me when I was working in the egg.

From a professional point of view – I trained as a stone sculptor and also took the master craftsman’s examination – I know almost all the materials. But even so, I used to only work with black stone for my shapes. And now, for years, I’ve only been working in white. For the small sculptures I make, I use a bright white marble. There is no other solution for me and for my forms. I have never used any materials with textures. They are beautiful, but not for my shapes.

But the marble for the egg has a certain texture. Was a block of 55 tons in pure white not available?

For the Globo Uovo, the stone is a little more marbled. Because this size in pure white – that would have been almost impossible and would have meant such a long wait. And the egg in this size in pure white would almost be a little too beautiful(laughs), almost baroque. That’s impossible. Visually too, it’s almost not rock anymore.

So the egg also looks much more “alive”.

Exactly, that’s what I mean. This methamorphosis of the rock, this mountain, that has to resonate.

How did the change from black to white rock come about?

That’s an interesting question. I have to go back to that. I wanted to make a really big sculpture in the 1990s. I chose a large block in Carrara without knowing what I was going to do with it. I wanted to be inspired by the material, by the block. I normally proceed differently. I have a drawing or a model and then work on the stone. But now I wanted to be influenced by the block. At the time, it was 20 tons in size. And that put an enormous strain on me(laughs). I suddenly realized that the further north the block was transported from Italy, the greater the strain in my head became. I was very blocked! And suddenly I found the solution. I then worked out a light cloth from this block. That was probably my solution, to release this heaviness in me in relation to the block. And since then I’ve only worked with white stone.

Are there purely visual reasons why you like to work with marble a lot, or is it also because of its properties?

Both, actually. My sculptures are also a matter of light. Not only with the large egg, but also with the other sculptures. The way the light passes through the opening and the edges is what makes it so good. And the properties for working are a pleasant side effect. It is easy to work with because it is so even, so homogeneous. But I mainly use marble because light and shadow are important for my sculptures.

You also want to send out a message with your art objects.

Yes, absolutely. I think that’s the greatest task of an artist. That his work is seen and heard, as the case may be. Communication is important. It makes no sense at all if I make an egg like this just to have another beautiful sculpture in a park somewhere. That wouldn’t be enough. It needs a message.

What message is that?

We have great difficulties with resources in general. This is most sensitive when it comes to food. And I really want to draw attention to the fact that people need to deal with the issue of food and resources. That a small train of thought changes.

Your sculpture is currently on display at the Dürrenmatt Center in Neuchâtel, Switzerland. Before the exhibition began, you launched an appeal to collect eggshells. What was the reason?

We had planned a performance with a dancer for the vernissage. I needed a lot of eggshells for that. Over the course of a year, people collected around 35,000 eggshells, washed them and brought them to me. Something you would normally throw away. For the exhibition opening, we laid them out on the floor of the museum and cleared paths, like a labyrinth. The dancer danced her way through it. But every now and then she made missteps on the eggshells, causing them to crack. And at the same time, with every misstep, a part of her body died. Because the shells represent our resources and if they are destroyed, the person dies too. And so she danced through the labyrinth and gradually died a dramatic death after three or four missteps.

Find out more about the project and the natural stone work in the February issue of STEIN. You can also find more information at www.stein-magazin.de/skulptur-des-monats-globo-uovo.