Functional parking garage in Ledeberg

Building design
The Havana Park & Ride has space for 500 cars, photo: © Stijn Bollaert

The Havana Park & Ride has space for 500 cars, photo: © Stijn Bollaert

Now that the city of Ghent’s new traffic plan has banned cars from the city center, parking spaces outside the city are gaining in importance. The city of Ledeberg, southwest of Ghent, also recognized this. It commissioned Havana Architects to build an above-ground parking garage for 500 cars.

Now that the city of Ghent’s new traffic plan has banned cars from the city center, parking spaces outside the city are gaining in importance. The city of Ledeberg, southwest of Ghent, also recognized this. It commissioned Havana Architects in collaboration with L. U. S. T. architecten to build an above-ground parking garage for 500 cars.

In 2012, Bert Haerynck and Tijl Vanmeirhaeghe founded the Ghent office Havana, which currently has eight employees. Their clear and simple style characterizes the architects and runs like a common thread through their projects. The result is natural architecture without frills, with a clear and often robust design. Because they attach great importance to buildability, their buildings result in seemingly everyday architecture. And it is precisely this restraint that makes Havana’s buildings so appealing. They create spaces, such as the parking garage in Ledeberg, that focus on the essence of architecture. Because nothing in it is too much and nothing is too little.

Eight years passed between the start of planning and completion in 2022, during which the team designed and built the 20,000 square meter Ledeberg parking lot. During this time, the planning team consisted of Havana Architekten, L.U.S.T. Architekten, structural engineers from Bollinger + Grohmann and building services engineers from VK-Engineering. The structure of Ledeberg provided an important starting point for the design, as the dense structure of the city was not to be deprived of any free space. The architects therefore made every effort to use every square meter of green space and implemented this concept consistently. As a result, the single-storey open space is led into the interior of the park at ground level.

The requirement for a floor plan that is as compact as possible would suggest a parking system in which as much space as possible is filled. However, the architects had to design their own parking system for the awkwardly pointed, triangular plot in Ledeberg. This is because it takes into account all the disadvantages that the shape of the plot entails. In addition, the architecture focuses on accommodating a large number of parking spaces on a minimal footprint. The result is a boomerang-like building shape that optimally organizes the triangle.

In order to increase the legibility of the system, this shape was also fine-tuned during its development: One wing of the boomerang is slightly inclined, the other part is flat. In addition, traffic looking for parking spaces in the building moves upwards, while exiting traffic moves downwards. Parking spaces are not only arranged along these ramps, but also in the flat wing, the pointed corner of the property. This makes parking in the Ledeberg parking garage quick and efficient.

True to the common thread of Havana Architekten’s philosophy, the Ledeberg parking garage has a minimalist design. This is because the building consists of prefabricated concrete elements, the appearance of which determines the façade and the interior. White markings on the roadway are also kept to a minimum on the light-colored material, allowing the subtle color concept to come to the fore. The directional signage is blue, and each parking level of the multi-storey parking lot is given a number and a color. In addition, lines in the corresponding color complement the white markings and additionally identify the floors.

The team from Havana Architekten used simple means to create a building that does justice to its task despite the unfavorable circumstances. The compact, upwardly staggered floor plan provides the town of Ledeberg with an additional green space. At the same time, it makes an important contribution to the region’s mobile concept. Finally, with the Ledeberg multi-storey parking lot, Havana created a simple building that, despite its mass, is restrained and does not interrupt the cityscape.

Ronald Janssen Architecten in Amsterdam show how an old police parking garage can be converted into an office space. More about the project here.

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Potjomkin’s heirs

Building design
Carson City VI

Carson City VI

For the photo book “The Potemkin Village”, photographer Gregor Sailer documented backdrop towns from all over the world. Where are such Potemkin villages created – and who plans them? An interview.

More appearance than reality: this formula sums up the concept of the Potjemkin village in a nutshell. The idea is said to have originated with Russian Field Marshal Grogori Potjomkin, who wanted to demonstrate wealth and prosperity in the Tsarist Empire with backdrop towns. The illustrated book “The Potemkin Village” by photographer Gregor Sailer shows that he still has many imitators today. We spoke to him about the peculiar magic of these modern Potemkin villages.

Mr. Sailer, how did you come up with the idea of looking for Potemkin villages in the present day?
In principle, the subject has been with me for a long time. My interest in the artificiality and scenic nature of architectural environments has already driven me in previous projects, where I photographed so-called “closed cities” or an underground Messerschmidt aircraft factory from the Second World War. This time it has now become the focus. The research proved to be very productive. Because today there are an astonishing number of architectural phenomena that can be associated with the concept of the Potjemkin village.

What are they?
On the one hand, I came across very classic examples of backdrop towns, which – as in Potjomkin’s time – feign wealth and prosperity with fake architectural elements, even if the real buildings promise the opposite. This was the case in Russia, for example. Here I photographed buildings that were covered with large printed tarpaulins for a major media event in the city in order to make a better impression on viewers – which worked surprisingly well. However, there are also other occasions from which backdrop architecture can be created. In recent years, for example, many armies have built ghost towns to train for missions abroad. In Sweden, there are streets and rows of houses that serve as testing grounds for cars. And in China, old town districts are being built according to the European model, which are then to be sold as particularly luxurious residential complexes to wealthy clientele. It was important to me to deal with the phenomenon of the Potjemkin village as broadly and comprehensively as possible. That’s why I included all these variants in my work.

This term also has negative connotations – after all, it is ultimately about fake towns, i.e. copies and forgeries. As a photographer, what interests you about architecture that pretends to be something it is not?
It’s not the deceptive character per se. I find the interplay between successful and broken spatial illusions more exciting. As a photographer, I have the opportunity to capture and focus on the scenic quality of the house shells that potjemkin villages use to create the illusion of a normal place. When this succeeds, the juxtaposition of deception and the attempt to deceive that has been overturned creates very exciting and powerful images. At the same time, the images should also convey a political statement. I want to make people aware of the enormous effort that goes into recreating certain sections of reality today. A controlled illusory world is created here with high investment sums. I find that disturbing.

How real is the illusion created by such architectural backdrops?
Quite real. The U.S. military training cities in the Mojave Desert in particular, which are surrounded by an open, vast landscape, manage to convey a thoroughly familiar urban experience to the visitor on entering. This can be reinforced by certain artifices: The army, for example, permanently employs over 300 extras here to imitate life in a small Middle Eastern town. And on top of that, there is a complete set, right down to the fruit dummies for the market stalls.

So for the viewer, the boundary between a normal and a potjemkin village can become blurred.
Yes, but only selectively. At the end of the day, it is clear that these are not inhabited and developed settlements, but rather – albeit artfully executed – dummies. The dominant feeling that overcomes me in these places is therefore always one of loneliness – and emptiness.

“Once you’ve found what you’re looking for, it’s all about finding your way through the chaos of the authorities.”

Many of the places you visited are also cut off from the outside world. Military training grounds, for example – how do you gain access to such places as a photographer?
It’s actually not that easy, which is why my photographic work for this project was always accompanied by a very long research and organization phase. First of all, there is the very basic question of where such facilities can be found at all. In the case of militarily administered structures, the level of public information is not particularly high. Once you have found what you are looking for, you then have to find your way through the chaos of the authorities: Who is responsible for the property, who can grant permission for a visit? You often have to gain a profound insight into the organizational structure of an army – and hope that your request will not fall on deaf ears with the relevant authorities.

During your research, were you also able to find out who is in charge of the planning work for such military backdrop cities?
There are special military architects for this. They have the task of designing settings that reflect the conditions in the current theaters of war as accurately as possible. In recent decades, European armies have been particularly involved in conflicts in the Middle East region. In response to this, backdrop cities have been created that imitate the typical settlement forms of these countries. The architects design streets, squares and striking buildings such as mosques and minarets based on authentic models so that the soldiers can prepare for their deployment under conditions that are as close to reality as possible. And some of the planning goes right down to the last detail. For example, the steps.

“The atmosphere that prevails is pretty spooky.”

What needs to be taken into account?
In many places in the world, steps have different dimensions than we are used to, for example, the steps are shorter and the gradient higher. In urban combat, it can be fatal if the soldiers are not prepared for such details.

Despite all the attention to detail, is there anything that can’t be artificially created when planning houses or cities?
What I have never encountered is anything like an authentic urban feel. Of course, this is not the focus of the mocktwons, which are used for military purposes. But even when attempts are made to design real residential cities using a Potjemkin approach to architecture, this quality does not seem to materialize. It is based much more on social experiences and interactions than on a specific type of architectural environment. In the sparsely populated Chinese city copies, for example, even the most magnificent house facades cannot hide the fact that this dimension is completely absent. The atmosphere that prevails here is then quite spooky.

Gregor Sailer’s photographs can be seen at the Freelens Gallery in Hamburg until March 8, 2019.

Bob the Baumeister: Similarities between the children’s series and modern construction planning

Building design
a-group-of-construction-workers-standing-around-each-other-8mXAvhTwE7I

A group of construction workers on a modern building site, photographed by Marcus Reubenstein.

Bob the Baumeister – a brightly colored children’s series with talking excavators and an optimistic theme tune. What does this have to do with the reality of construction planning in 2024? More than many architects would like to admit. Because there are surprising parallels between sandbox-like construction site harmony and data-driven process architecture. Anyone who recognizes them will not only better understand the longing for efficiency and teamwork on German construction sites, but also the pitfalls and opportunities of modern planning processes. Welcome to an analysis of a pop culture phenomenon – and its quiet influence on an industry that needs to reinvent itself digitally and sustainably.

  • The parallels between Bob the Baumeister and modern construction planning are surprisingly diverse and range from teamwork to digital process control.
  • In Germany, Austria and Switzerland, construction planning is characterized by a mixture of tradition, pressure to innovate and regulatory hurdles.
  • Digital tools, BIM and artificial intelligence are revolutionizing planning and collaboration, but often fail due to entrenched structures.
  • Sustainability remains a key objective, but is being held back by conflicting goals, a shortage of resources and a lack of skilled workers.
  • Technical expertise in data management, simulation and collaboration is becoming essential.
  • The role of the architect is changing: from lone warrior to moderator of a multidisciplinary team.
  • Visionary ideas meet tangible pragmatism – and again and again the question: who really controls the processes?
  • The debate about responsibility, transparency and digital sovereignty is more topical than ever.
  • What Bob the Baumeister already anticipated: without trust, communication and a culture of error, all innovation remains a waste of time.

Sandbox, simulation, system change: the construction world in transition

Anyone strolling through German, Austrian or Swiss cities quickly realizes: the construction site is omnipresent, the chaos timeless. But while Bob the Baumeister and his team can solve any challenge in 24 minutes, the reality of construction planning is much more complicated. The industry is in the midst of a transformation that is not only reflected in fancy renderings and BIM models, but above all in the minds of those involved. Traditional working methods are clashing with digital tools, legal requirements are slowing down smart processes and the call for sustainability is coming up against the harsh reality of tight budgets and overloaded building authorities. Anyone who believes that construction planning in the DACH region is a linear process has not yet experienced the pitfalls of federal responsibilities, the flood of standards and fragmented responsibilities.

But the challenges are not just structural in nature. They are cultural, technological and – perhaps most frustrating of all – deeply human. While the children’s series focuses on teamwork, communication and error-friendliness, the principle of silo thinking still prevails on many construction sites. Everyone plans for themselves, coordination takes place later, and in the end, everyone is collectively surprised by unexpected collisions between planning and reality. Digitalization promises to remedy this and brings new tools into play. But anyone who believes that software alone will save the industry has underestimated the complexity. It’s about more than 3D models and digital twins. It’s about a radical rethink – and this is where Bob becomes an involuntary role model.

In Germany, Austria and Switzerland, change is being adopted at different speeds. While innovative model projects in Vienna and Zurich have long since shown how networked planning can work, paper plans and fax machines still dominate elsewhere. There are many reasons for this: fear of losing control, a lack of skilled workers, but also a lack of trust in new processes. As a result, digitalization remains piecemeal in many places, sustainability is a nice-sounding headline and real transformation is a promise for the future. But the pressure is growing. The climate crisis, lack of resources and the desire for smarter cities demand solutions that go far beyond what traditional construction planning can achieve.

This is exactly where the pop culture reference comes into play. Bob the Baumeister stands for an attitude that is often lacking in the real world of construction: optimism, cooperation and a willingness to learn from mistakes. In an industry dominated by responsibility and liability, this is anything but a given. If you want to shape change, you not only have to use new tools, but also question your own error culture. This sounds banal, but it is a decisive lever for innovation. Because only teams that talk to each other, learn from each other and develop solutions together will be able to master the challenges of the future.

The construction world is changing – and it needs more than technical gadgets. It needs attitude, courage and the willingness to leave familiar paths. What the children’s series presents in a playful way is hard work in reality. But who says that hard work can’t be fun?

Digital heroes and real-life hurdles: How BIM, AI and co. are challenging the industry

Digitalization has reached the construction industry – at least on paper. Building Information Modeling, simulation tools and artificial intelligence promise leaps in efficiency, transparency and a new quality of collaboration. But as is so often the case in life, the devil is in the detail. Anyone planning in DACH knows that the introduction of BIM is not a sure-fire success. Different software solutions, a lack of standards and the famous turf war between architects, engineers and clients make every digital project a bit of an odyssey. As a result, many things remain pilot projects and the big breakthrough is postponed. And while the digital twin has long been controlling traffic flows in Helsinki or Singapore, German cities are still experimenting with interfaces and data protection concepts.

The technical possibilities are impressive: from automated quantity determination and intelligent schedules to the simulation of energy flows and user behavior. But the reality in planning offices is often different. Everyday life is characterized by Excel lists, floods of emails and the constant fear of losing control of one’s own project. Artificial intelligence? Sounds exciting, but remains an abstract buzzword for many. Data-driven analyses and forecasts could help to identify risks at an early stage, conserve resources and avoid mistakes. But this assumes that everyone involved is willing to share data – and in the construction industry, this is at least as rare as completing a project on time.

It becomes particularly exciting when you consider the role of architects. They are no longer the sole designers, but increasingly the moderators of complex planning processes. What used to be glorified as a lone fighter is now a relic. What is needed are team players, system thinkers and people who can bring together technical, social and ecological aspects. This requires a new self-image – and a lot of technical know-how. Anyone who dares to take the leap into the digital age must be familiar with data management, simulations and collaborative platforms. Classic drawing on the drawing board is a thing of the past. Today, the ability to orchestrate processes and network knowledge is crucial.

But how far along is the industry really? Germany, Austria and Switzerland are – unsurprisingly – world champions when it comes to discussion, but no sprinters when it comes to implementation. While individual lighthouse projects attract international attention, the everyday life of many construction projects remains characterized by isolated solutions and media disruptions. The reasons are well known: Over-regulation, lack of investment, and not least a certain reluctance to change. But the pressure is increasing. If you want to survive in international competition, you have to act now – otherwise the algorithms of other countries will take over.

What Bob the Baumeister has always shown us: without functioning communication, without shared knowledge and without the willingness to admit mistakes, even the best tool remains useless. This is precisely where the industry needs to start if it really wants to achieve the digital transformation.

Sustainability as an ongoing task: between greenwashing and genuine transformation

When trees are planted and solar panels are installed in the children’s series, it’s educationally valuable – and in reality, it’s long been mandatory. But while Bob stages sustainable construction sites with a smile on his face, the industry in the DACH region is struggling with contradictory requirements. Climate-neutral construction, circular economy and resource efficiency are the buzzwords of the moment. However, there is a considerable gap between political aspirations and construction reality. Anyone who wants to build sustainably today has to fight their way through a jungle of standards, certificates and funding conditions. And in the end, there is often a conflict of objectives: energy-efficient yes, but affordable please. Regional, but please without supply bottlenecks. Modern, but please respect tradition.

The biggest challenges lie less in the technology and more in the system. Sustainability is not an add-on, but must become an integral part of the entire planning process. This requires interdisciplinary cooperation, early involvement of all stakeholders and the courage to allow unconventional solutions. Digital tools can provide support here – for example by simulating life cycles, analyzing material flows or evaluating CO₂ emissions in real time. However, as long as processes remain fragmented and everyone guards their own data like a treasure, the impact will remain limited.

In Austria and Switzerland, ambitious projects show that things can be done differently. Here, the circular economy, timber construction and smart neighborhood concepts have long been tested and rolled out. But here too, the road to a climate-neutral construction industry is still a long one. There is not a lack of ideas, but rather a lack of structures that systematically promote innovation. And a culture of error that sees failure not as a flaw, but as an opportunity for improvement. This is precisely the lesson that Bob the Baumeister exemplifies – and that the industry finds so difficult.

The technical know-how for sustainable construction is available. What is missing is the willingness to apply it consistently – and the framework conditions that enable innovation instead of blocking it. The construction planning of the future must not only be efficient, but also resilient. It must take climate, resources, social aspects and economic efficiency into account in equal measure. This requires the courage to change – and staying power.

If you really want sustainable solutions, you have to be prepared to leave your comfort zone and take responsibility. Not just for the success of your own project, but for society as a whole. It’s exhausting, but there’s no alternative. Or, to paraphrase Bob: Can we do it? Yes, we can – but only if everyone pulls together.

Between cartoon and reality: visions, debates and looking ahead

It would be tempting to dismiss Bob the Baumeister as a harmless children’s program – but the series hits a nerve that the industry knows only too well. The longing for clear processes, functioning teamwork and solution-oriented action is omnipresent. But the reality remains unwieldy. The construction world of the 21st century is a paradox of technical overload, regulatory proliferation and the constant balancing act between aspiration and reality. Visionary ideas abound: from the fully networked smart city to adaptive façades and AI-controlled construction sites. But every innovation also attracts critics. Who controls the algorithms? Who owns the data? And how do we prevent technology from becoming an end in itself?

The debate about responsibility and transparency is more topical than ever. Digital twins, AI-supported planning and automated processes harbor enormous potential – but also risks. Commercialization, algorithmic distortion and a creeping loss of control threaten if governance and data sovereignty are not taken into account. The industry is at a crossroads: does it want to actively shape innovation or let global tech companies dictate the rules of the game? The answer will determine how future-proof architecture, construction and urban development really are.

The debate has long since flared up in the global architecture community. While Scandinavia and the Netherlands rely on open data platforms and participatory processes, the DACH region is in danger of falling back into old patterns. The fear of mistakes, lawsuits and loss of reputation is paralyzing the courage to experiment. Yet now would be the time to try something new, share responsibility and use the opportunities of digitalization for real sustainability. Because one thing is clear: the challenges of the 21st century cannot be solved with the tools of the 20th century.

What remains is to look ahead – and to realize that the construction site of the future is far more than a collection of machines, people and models. It is a living system that thrives on communication, trust and a willingness to learn. This is exactly what makes Bob the Baumeister a surprisingly contemporary role model. Not because he has a perfect command of technical details, but because he shows how important it is to find solutions together – even if there are bumps and bangs.

The industry has a choice: it can retreat into the spectator stands and sleep through the change. Or it can roll up its sleeves and rewrite the rules of the game. The tools are there. What is missing is the will to use them – and the confidence that teamwork brings more than lone wolves.

Conclusion: What we can really learn from Bob

Bob the Baumeister remains an amusing childhood memory for many architects and planners – and yet there is more building expertise in the series than some might like to admit. Teamwork, a culture of error, the courage to change and the desire to try things out are the ingredients that make the difference between success and failure in real-life construction planning. Digitalization, sustainability and the transformation of the industry are not a sure-fire success. They require new attitudes, technical expertise and a willingness to share responsibility. Those who understand this can shape the change – and maybe even have a bit of fun doing it. The construction site of the future is not a place for lone fighters, but for teams that tackle, communicate and dare to try something new together. Can we achieve this? The answer is found in practice – every day anew.