Once upon a time there was a house

Building design

The house on Schedlberg outside ...

How can structurally weak rural areas be helped? With contemporary architecture that transforms the past and boldly invents new usage scenarios – says Peter Haimerl. The Munich architect saves old buildings in the Bavarian Forest, for example the house on Schedlberg.

There are stories that have to be invented. And there are stories that are already there. You just have to be able to see them. Or feel them. The Austragshäusl on Schedlberg near Arnbruck is one such story that was already there. When did it begin? In 1820, when the house was built? No, much earlier. Sometime between 320 and 350 million years ago, when liquid magma rose up through cracks in the earth’s crust, got stuck and slowly cooled down.

Back then, this area didn’t have a name, today it’s called the Bavarian Forest, and even though a lot of granite has been mined and sold in the meantime, you can still find it everywhere. Wild and beautiful rock formations, loose stone and empty quarries. Those who wanted to settle down here built with what was available: stone and wood.


_DSC1687_HR_k
The house on Schedlberg outside …

_DSC1664_HR_k
… and inside. Photos: Edward Beierle.

The Schedlberg has both. If you stand in the rear and new part of the house, which used to be a stable and barn, and look north into the nearby forest, you can see a few randomly stacked granite blocks that were taken out of the ground and worked into blocks on the spot. These were probably left over and left lying around. Over time, the stones sank back into the earth a little, then the moss came. The forest took them back. At the beginning of the 1960s, when nobody lived here anymore, it decided to take the whole house. And because times had changed radically and people wanted to forget the poverty of simple country life or even the whole past, they let him. Sun, rain, wind and snow – everyone helped as best they could. And when Peter Haimerl saw the Austragshäusl for the first time in 2009, there wasn’t much left.

The roof looked like a piece of paper that had been torn up by an angry child. Dark window cavities stared into the void. There was a large hole in one side wall through which you could look into the rotten belly. The rear section had almost completely collapsed, but the former living area at the front was still standing because the wall of the house was holding itself up with the last of its strength and supporting the ridge purlin. The nearby fir trees were already stretching out their arms and ferns were growing their way inside. The house was more dead than alive – and Haimerl liked it immediately. Precisely because it was so torn apart, because it was disintegrating and beginning to “become light”. That’s how he describes it. He is interested in precisely this intermediate state, which he wants to preserve and work out: “The house dematerializes, lets go. Everything is open, nothing is taken for granted.” Where others see decay, he sees a story that he wants to tell. With new materials, with contrasts, with light. That is the poetic side.

But Peter Haimerl also has a hands-on side. He wants to reanimate his homeland, the Bavarian Forest, with architecture that appreciates the old and dares to embrace the new. But there is not much of the old left. Most of it has been demolished and the rest left to fend for itself. “The connection is gone,” says Haimerl. And nobody wants to take care of it. Especially not the owners. They often can’t wait to finally build a garage. Or yet another faceless neo-Bavarian detached house.

Although the Office for the Preservation of Historic Monuments diligently documents the decay and provides committed advice, it ultimately doesn’t have much to say. The district authorities have the final say, and their decisions are often very populist and short-sighted. So the old butcher’s shop in the center of the village is torn down to make way for a parking lot. That’s what the people want, they say. And the town center? It’s just flattened and belongs to cars instead of people. “The destructive rage is greater than I had expected,” says Haimerl. He really became aware of this when he spent weeks driving through the Bavarian Forest in the summer of 2009 with a list from the Office for the Protection of Historical Monuments, looking for old houses that could be saved. There are now only just over 200 of the Waldler houses that once shaped the Bavarian Forest left.

Telling the story

The Austragshäusl on the Schedlberg was also on the list. The owners had long since expanded the nearby farm and no longer needed the detached house on the edge of the forest. Despite being a listed building, it was approved for demolition. What else could you do with the “oiden Glump”? “Fix it up,” says Haimerl. And was initially looked at rather uncomprehendingly. The broken heap? What for? The owner didn’t want to sell
The owner didn’t want to sell it after all, so they agreed to lease it as a gift for 35 years. And Haimerl began to think about how to tell the story of the house without destroying the secret of its decay: “My aim is to preserve as much of the substance as possible with as little effort as possible and to add a new aspect to the whole thing.”

The first farmhouse that he raised from the dead with this aim in mind and which immediately caused an international sensation was that of the farmer’s wife Cilli Sigl, near Viechtach. Peter Haimerl grew up very close by. He has known all the chambers and smells of the house since childhood, and when the farmer’s wife died in 1974, his family took over the house and with it the responsibility. It stood empty for years. Until 2008, when Haimerl and his wife Jutta Görlich set about saving the old house by filling it with new life and lightweight concrete.

Contemporary transformation

From the outside, the house in Viechtach has hardly changed and continues to age. Well, a few rotten balcony beams have been replaced, but the face of the house, the façade and the windows have remained the same. And in the state of decay it was in. What you can only see from the inside: Cubes of gray concrete poured directly into the fabric of the building, a supporting corset that defines spaces.

A house within a house. Through large openings in the walls, the past also remains visible inside: bricks, different colored layers of plaster, pieced wood. If the word “authentic” hadn’t been dead for a long time, it would be right here. This old house deep in the Bavarian Forest was Peter Haimerl’s breakthrough. And a breakthrough. There were prizes, attention, and the State Office for the Preservation of Monuments praised the new approach to old buildings. To this day, the Munich architect receives inquiries from people all over the world who want to see the house.

What began with the Cilli is now being continued on the Schedlberg. No folkloristic restoration. No museum mummification. No compromises. Instead, a contemporary transformation that always takes the location as its starting point. In this case, it was the mossy rocks outside the front door that inspired Peter Haimerl. He took up the geometric form, mathematized and materialized it. The result was 43 x 43 centimetre thick bars of lightweight concrete, which were inserted wherever the house had holes and needed to be stabilized. In contrast to the Cilli, this intervention on the Schedlberg can be seen from the outside. Much more had to be done here, the house was also much more damaged. The collapsed part was rebuilt from the floor to the roof with a combination of load-bearing concrete bars and glass, which appears light and yet is pleasantly restrained despite its presence. (…)

You can find the complete article on Peter Haimerl’s house on Schedlberg in our Bavaria issue B04/18. Click here to go to the store.

YOU MAY ALSO LIKE

“The media library is a meeting place for people in the region.”

Building design

The new media library in the French municipality of Sierentz by drlw architectes: old and new symbolically united. Interview with architect Denis Dietschy.

Originally, the municipality of Sierentz only wanted to convert an old barn into a tri-national media library with the “Domaine Haas” IBA project. But that was just the beginning. In the meantime, the municipality of Sierentz has linked the Domaine Haas with two other IBA projects, making it the starting point for an urban planning study. Initially, however, the focus was on the Haas family’s property – a farm including a mill and botanical garden – and the new media library. We find out from lead architect Denis Dietschy how drlw architectes managed the balancing act between old and new and what symbolism the new structures have.

Denis Dietschy, the media library at Domaine Haas in Sierentz was built in 2014. What role did drlw architectes play in the project?

The media library didn’t exist before our architectural intervention. But to understand our role as architects, we have to look at the Domaine Haas as a whole: It is located in the center of the village, along the river. It is an old farm, consisting of an old mill and a botanical garden, which was owned by the Haas family for several generations until they decided to give the property to the municipality. In return, they demanded that the municipality would not convert the site into housing, but instead integrate the estate into an existing school project. The municipality therefore undertook to respect the existing site and to develop public facilities on it.

Several generations? The Domaine Haas seems to have a long history …

The area does indeed have a long history, and this is very important for the project. The Domaine Haas is a former manor house. At the time, the manor houses belonged to wealthy families who established themselves along the streams to build mills. When we were working on the project, it was important to us to record its history. We wanted to show that history doesn’t always have to end. Building this modern building in the heart of the village was an extraordinary adventure.

So you built a new media library for the community with drlw architectes?

Exactly, we reused the barn and stables that were already there. We opened up the existing building and built a very modern glass extension right next to it. A pedestrian bridge connects the two buildings and embodies the link between past and present. A school was also recently built on the site.

Meeting place in the heart of the village

What do you mean by the link between past and present?

We have completely restructured the old building. You could say that we have accommodated children and young people in the new part, while the older part is intended for adults. The two buildings are connected by the pedestrian bridge, which acts as a mediator of history – very symbolic architecture in other words.

How has this been received by the community?

The media library is doing very well. The location is used by many people and the media library has become an integral part of the village. This is also due to the fact that we designed it as an open place that is at the heart of the village. Many people come here to spend time or just to have a coffee. The media library not only serves as a meeting place for the municipality of Sierentz, but also for the surrounding villages.

“It’s not just French or Alsatian people.”

How does the media library fit into the tri-national region?

Sierentz should contribute to the attractiveness of the Basel region. The region is home to many inhabitants, most of whom work in the Basel area. This creates a cultural mix. I find it exciting that the media library can be a place of written and oral exchange between these different cultures.

Has the tri-national aspect of the project influenced your architecture?

Yes, in terms of symbolism. We have created an open space that respects the past while being open to the future. It’s a meeting place for all the people who live in the region. It’s not just French or Alsatian. All these villages in the border region are now home to people from all over.

Why have we started an IBA Basel series? You can read about it here.

You can find more interviews on IBA Basel projects here.

Mercedes Museum: architecture meets automotive myth masterfully

Building design

The Mercedes-Benz Museum complex in Stuttgart is more than just an architectural statement made of concrete and glass. It is a built legend, a space where automotive history, the art of engineering and the digital future meet – and a prime example of how architecture not only houses the automotive myth, but also stages, challenges and reinvents it.

  • The Mercedes-Benz Museum stands for a radical break with classic exhibition typologies – and for a new era of museum architecture.
  • The architecture by UNStudio combines parametric design strategies, digital planning tools and a spectacular spatial dramaturgy.
  • Germany, Austria and Switzerland are observing the model with respect – and a dose of skepticism towards such iconic brand architecture.
  • Digitalization, BIM and AI are not only shaping the design process, but also the operation, communication and visitor guidance.
  • Sustainability remains the crucial question: how ecological is a building of this size really – and what can be learned?
  • The museum is a laboratory for technical innovation, for the role of the architect as curator and for the future of building.
  • The debate ranges from iconic over-staging to museum architecture as a social resonance space.
  • In a global context, the Mercedes-Benz Museum sets standards – and at the same time provides plenty of material for criticism and visions.

Iconography on speed: the architecture of the Mercedes-Benz Museum as a brand space

Anyone entering the Mercedes-Benz Museum in Stuttgart leaves all notions of a traditional automobile museum at the checkroom. Instead of endless rows of showcases and chronology, visitors can expect a spatial choreography that is as dynamic as the myth of Mercedes itself. In 2006, UNStudio, the Dutch architecture firm led by Ben van Berkel, provided a radical answer to the question of how history, technology and brand can be linked architecturally. The building is not a container, but a three-dimensional narrative that stages the automotive myth with open ramps, interlocking levels and a spectacular spatial spiral. Time and again, visual axes open up into the urban space, onto Neckarpark, onto the production halls – as if the museum wanted to say: this is not where history ends, this is where it constantly begins anew. This is no coincidence, but the result of a design strategy that relied on digital tools, parametric models and a multitude of simulations right from the start. What is now traded as a hope for the future under the banner of BIM and AI was a technological quantum leap in museum construction at the time. The complex geometry, the flowing spatial sequences and the integration of daylight were only made possible by the consistent use of digital planning tools. This makes the Mercedes-Benz Museum not only an architectural milestone, but also a forerunner of digitalization in the construction industry – and a field of experimentation that radiates far beyond Germany’s borders.

But despite all the admiration for the formal virtuosity, the question remains: is this still a museum or already a marketing temple? The answer is as complex as the building itself. On the one hand, the architecture functions as a stage for the Mercedes-Benz brand, as a manifesto of technical excellence, as a walk-in corporate identity. On the other hand, it offers space for critical reflection, for ruptures and ambivalences. The exhibition design, for which HG Merz was responsible, plays with forms of staging between enthusiasm for technology and criticism of the times. Anyone climbing the famous double helix of ramps will not only encounter gleaming bodies, but also the darker side of automotive history – from the Nazi era to the global ecological footprint. This complexity makes the Mercedes-Benz Museum an architectural resonance chamber in which fascination and skepticism balance each other out. It is a building that cannot be pinned down – and this is precisely its strength.

In German-speaking countries, the Stuttgart Museum has triggered a debate that continues to this day. Is the building a model for museum architecture or a solitaire that defies imitation? Many museums in Germany, Austria and Switzerland have tried to adapt the principle of “experience architecture” – with varying degrees of success. What the Mercedes-Benz Museum achieves is the fusion of brand space, urban building block and technical innovation. This is neither an end in itself nor mere showmanship, but an architectural approach that liberates the museum from the corset of statics and catapults it into the sphere of movement.

International architecture critics like to talk about “iconography on speed” – and this hits a sore spot. Because there is a fine line between iconic presence and architectural arrogance. The Mercedes-Benz Museum balances on this line with remarkable aplomb. The expressive formal language, the complex spatial dramaturgy and the technical precision make the building a point of reference for a generation of architects who no longer see museums as “white boxes”, but as active players in the urban context.

The Mercedes-Benz Museum thus becomes a laboratory for the future of museum architecture – and a touchstone for the question of how much myth, how much brand and how much social responsibility a building can tolerate. It is a building that provokes, fascinates and divides experts. This is precisely what makes it relevant.

Digital planning, parametric processes and the new role of the architect

When the Mercedes-Benz Museum was planned, the digitalization of the construction industry was still in its infancy. Today, a project of this size would be unthinkable without building information modeling, parametric design tools and data-driven planning. At that time, however, the consistent use of digital tools was a risk – and a milestone for the industry. UNStudio relied on a geometrically variable double helix structure that could hardly have been planned conventionally. Only through the interlinking of 3D models, simulation-supported analyses and permanent feedback between design and execution was it possible to achieve what is now celebrated as “design-to-production”. The interfaces between architect, engineer, specialist planner and manufacturer were redefined – not as a rigid process chain, but as a dynamic network. This is one of the most important lessons for the industry: digital transformation is not an end in itself, but a tool for radical innovation.

Even after the opening, the museum remained a playing field for digital technologies. From climate control to media technology and visitor guidance, the museum relies on intelligent networking. Digital exhibit labels, interactive media stations and augmented reality applications turn the visit into an immersive experience. The technical infrastructure has been designed in such a way that it can be continuously developed further – a must for a museum that claims to always have its finger on the pulse. The integration of AI-supported analysis systems for visitor guidance and climate control has long been a reality. The Mercedes-Benz Museum is therefore not only a place for automotive retrospection, but also a testing ground for the use of digital technologies in cultural buildings.

What does this mean for the architectural profession? The role of the architect is shifting from lone designer to process designer, data manager and interface professional. Anyone planning a building like the Mercedes-Benz Museum today needs more than just creative brilliance. What is needed is knowledge of digital design processes, parametrics, data integration and simulation. The classic separation between design and execution is dissolving. The architect becomes a curator of processes, a moderator between disciplines and a driving force for innovation. This is challenging, uncomfortable and necessary – because it is the only way to fully exploit the potential of digitalization.

The DACH region – Germany, Austria and Switzerland – is still struggling with this development. Although there are lighthouse projects and dedicated offices, the widespread use of digital methods remains the exception. Legal uncertainties, a lack of standardization and a defiant building culture often prevent a breakthrough. The Mercedes-Benz Museum thus stands as both a warning and a role model: those who do not think digitally are planning past reality. The industry is faced with a choice: help shape the future or be left behind.

From a global perspective, digitalization in construction has long been a location factor. Countries such as the Netherlands, the UK and Denmark are setting standards that make the German discourse look old-fashioned. The Mercedes-Benz Museum shows what is possible when courage, technology and creative ambition come together. It is an appeal to the industry not to miss out on the opportunities of digitalization – and an invitation to redefine the role of the architect.

Sustainability between aspiration and reality – installing greenwashing?

Few topics polarize the architecture industry more than sustainability. The Mercedes-Benz Museum is a large-scale building, energetically ambitious and technically highly equipped – but how green can a building of this size really be? The answer is sobering if you look at the ecological key figures in isolation: The use of materials is enormous, the building services are trimmed for high performance, the use of space is considerable. The museum exemplifies the ambivalence of modern architecture: on the one hand, the demand for innovation and iconography, on the other hand, the ecological balance sheet, which is not only measured in certificates. This debate is particularly heated in Germany, Austria and Switzerland. While circular building material cycles and cradle-to-cradle principles have long set the standard in Scandinavia, the dilemma between innovation and sustainability remains unresolved in this country.

But it would be too easy to dismiss the Mercedes-Benz Museum as an ecological fig leaf. The technical building equipment certainly sets standards: a sophisticated ventilation system, daylight control, heat recovery and an intelligent control system ensure a comparatively high level of energy efficiency. The integration of digital monitoring and control systems allows continuous optimization of operations. The building is designed in such a way that technical components can be replaced and retrofitted – a plus point in terms of life cycle and flexibility. Nevertheless, the ecological footprint of a museum building of this size remains an open flank. Sustainability is less evident here in the certificate than in daily operation, in the ability to adapt and in the willingness to constantly evolve.

The actual innovation is perhaps less in the building itself than in the handling of resources and operation. Digital tools make it possible to analyze energy consumption, manage visitor flows and optimize maintenance cycles. AI-based systems help to detect inefficiencies and adjust operations. The Mercedes-Benz Museum is thus becoming a testing ground for the question of how large cultural buildings can be responsible in the age of the climate crisis. There are no easy answers, but there are many approaches that could set a precedent – provided that people are prepared to take a critical look at the issue.

The debate about greenwashing is nevertheless justified. Architecture as a brand carrier is always suspected of instrumentalizing sustainability to cultivate its image. The Mercedes-Benz Museum is no exception. The challenge is to understand sustainability not as an add-on, but as an integral part of design, construction and operation. This is uncomfortable, conflict-ridden and sometimes expensive – but unavoidable if architecture wants to be more than just a backdrop for beautiful cars.

Sustainability is increasingly becoming the benchmark for quality, particularly in an international context. Museums in the USA, China and Scandinavia have long relied on innovative construction methods, circular materials and CO₂-neutral operating concepts. The Mercedes-Benz Museum can provide impetus here, but remains rather mediocre on a European scale. The big question is: how can the iconography of a large building be reconciled with the requirements of climate protection and resource conservation? The answer is yet to be found – and will still cause the industry some headaches.

Myth, criticism and vision: the museum as a laboratory for the future of architecture

The Mercedes-Benz Museum is more than just an architectural feat. It is a sounding board for the industry’s big questions: How much staging can building culture tolerate? How can innovation, sustainability and social responsibility be combined? And how do architects position themselves between brand mandate, user interest and public discourse? The answers are as contradictory as the building itself. On the one hand, the museum offers impressive proof of the capabilities of contemporary architecture and engineering. The mastery of material and form, the precision of execution and the technical equipment are impressive. On the other hand, a certain aftertaste remains: is it all more appearance than reality? Isn’t the automotive myth being celebrated here, while the dark side of the industry is being ignored?

Criticism of iconic brand architecture is as old as the genre itself. But in the case of the Mercedes-Benz Museum, it takes on a new dimension. The architecture becomes a stage for social debates – about resources, about mobility, about the role of museums in the 21st century. The building is more than just a shell. It is part of the debate. The exhibition addresses the dark chapters of the company’s history as well as the challenges of the future. The architecture frames this debate, but also intensifies it. It forces the visitor to engage – with the space, with the brand, with the history. This is uncomfortable, but necessary.

The Mercedes-Benz Museum is visionary above all in the way it sees itself as a laboratory. This is where things are tried out, questioned and rethought. Digitalization, sustainability, participation and brand staging are not seen as opposites, but as a field of tension that can be used productively. The museum shows how technical innovation, spatial quality and social dialog can be combined – if you have the courage to endure contradictions. This is precisely where the future of architecture lies: not in the perfect solution, but in dealing productively with complexity.

The Stuttgart museum is keeping a close eye on the global architectural debate. On the one hand, it is praised for its courage in terms of form, innovation and staging. On the other hand, there is a danger that brand architecture will degenerate into mere self-promotion. The Mercedes-Benz Museum is an example of this ambivalence. It offers a projection surface for admiration and criticism in equal measure – and thus remains a talking point.

Ultimately, the museum is a touchstone for the future of building. It shows how far architecture can go if it is not satisfied with the status quo. But it also shows the limits: at the interface of technology, sustainability, publicity and myth. If you want to shape the future of architecture, there is no way around such laboratories – even if they sometimes pose more questions than they answer.

Conclusion: Between icon and laboratory – what the Mercedes-Benz Museum means for the industry

The Mercedes-Benz Museum is a built myth, an architectural icon and a laboratory for innovation. It marks the transition to a new era of museum architecture in which digital processes, sustainability and social responsibility are inextricably linked. The building is a milestone, but also a memorial: it shows what is possible when technology, courage and creative ambition work together – and where the industry runs the risk of losing itself in its own myth. The museum remains a touchstone for architects, engineers and clients: if you want innovation, you have to be able to withstand complexity, allow criticism and use contradictions productively. The future of architecture begins where buildings are more than just shells – they become actors in urban, social and digital discourse. The Mercedes-Benz Museum remains both a benchmark and a challenge.