15.05.2026

Real-Time Analysis of Temporary Architecture

Building design

Aerial view of white buildings, photographed by CHUTTERSNAP

Real-Time Analysis of Temporary Architecture: Anyone who still believes today that temporary structures are nothing more than pretty token pavilions or festival tents has missed the memo on digitalization. Temporary architecture is becoming a real-time monitoring station, a laboratory for space and behavior, and a blueprint for resilient urban development. If you want to know how cities are responding to climate change, social upheavals, and new forms of mobility—you need to look at temporary structures. And above all: how they’re analyzed in real time. Welcome to the era in which temporary architecture is not only built but also measured, evaluated, and optimized—and all in real time, with data that moves faster than any building permit.

Temporary architecture is no longer a fringe phenomenon, but a testing ground for urban innovation and resilience.
Real-time analysis transforms temporary structures into data-driven experiments for urban planning and user behavior.
Digital tools, sensor technology, and AI enable measurements of climate impact, energy efficiency, and social acceptance.
Germany, Austria, and Switzerland are experimenting—often ambitiously, but rarely consistently.
The focus is on sustainability challenges: material cycles, zero emissions, deconstruction, and reuse.
Professional skills are shifting: data analysis is becoming a mandatory skill, not a hobby.
Debates over data protection, algorithmic bias, and the commercialization of urban space are raging.
Global momentum is coming from Asia, Scandinavia, and the U.S.—Central Europe is lagging behind, but not without potential.
Temporary architecture combined with real-time analysis challenges the traditional role of architects—and our understanding of the city.

From Pop-Up to Live Experiment: Temporary Architecture in Transition

Temporary architecture in German, Austrian, and Swiss cities was long seen as something meant to disappear quickly: construction site pavilions, event structures, emergency shelters. But with the challenges of the present—climate change, migration, the mobility transition—the picture has changed radically. Temporary structures have become urban prototypes. They are no longer merely stopgap solutions, but rather deliberately deployed tools for testing new spaces, uses, and infrastructures without leaving the city in a permanent state of emergency. Real-time analysis plays a key role in this process. What used to be based on gut feeling and experience is now measured using sensors, cameras, user tracking, and IoT technologies. The question is no longer just what a temporary structure looks like, but what effect it has—and right now, not just next year.

In cities like Zurich, Vienna, and Munich, a new practice has taken hold: temporary squares, pavilions, and pop-up parks are equipped with measurement infrastructure from the very start. CO₂ sensors, humidity meters, counting systems for pedestrians and cyclists, noise monitoring, and even social interaction analyses are no longer a thing of the future but standard tools for ambitious project teams. The results feed directly into the evaluation of the interventions and are often made public—a paradigm shift in how we approach urban spaces. Temporary architecture becomes a performative laboratory. Every use, every change, every weather event provides new data points. The ephemeral structure gives rise to an ongoing discourse on urban quality.

The technical possibilities set virtually no limits on the imagination. In Basel, a temporary cultural pavilion was equipped with a digital dashboard that displayed in real time how many people were inside, how the temperature was changing, and what noise levels were being reached. In Hamburg, a temporary bike lane was monitored with sensors to evaluate traffic flows, emissions, and quality of stay. Vienna is experimenting with pop-up cooling zones, whose impact on the microclimate and social use is analyzed in real time. One thing is clear: Anyone who takes temporary architecture seriously today cannot ignore real-time analysis—and certainly cannot ignore the question of what actually happens to all that data.

The traditional separation of planning, construction, and operation dissolves in a temporary context. Planning becomes a process, construction becomes a prototype, and operation becomes a real-time experiment. This also means that the responsibilities of architects and planners are shifting. They must not only deliver a design but also measure, evaluate, and communicate. The construction site becomes an interface between the city and data. Those who ignore this are building without addressing actual needs.

But as fascinating as all this sounds—there are also downsides. Real-time analysis can become an end in itself, a frenzy of data collection without any gain in insight. And it can overshadow social issues: Who is being monitored? Who interprets the data? Who draws which conclusions from it? Temporary architecture in the context of real-time analysis is not a sure thing, but rather a balancing act between technology, ethics, and urban society.

Technical Depth: Sensors, AI, and the New Tools for Temporary Spaces

A harsh wind is blowing through the engine room of temporary architecture today. Anyone who thinks the job is done with a few fancy renderings and a bit of clever lightweight construction has missed the boat on the digital revolution. At the heart of it all are sensors, data gateways, edge computing, and algorithmic analysis—in short: architecture meets data science. The technical infrastructure of temporary structures is becoming increasingly sophisticated. The arsenal ranges from simple motion sensors to complex IoT systems that measure temperature, air quality, light levels, background noise, and even the usage duration of individual spaces. Everything is recorded, analyzed, and visualized in real time. The goal: to understand how the temporary space actually functions—beyond mere aesthetics.

Artificial intelligence is playing an increasingly dominant role in this process. It recognizes usage patterns, identifies anomalies, and suggests optimization measures. In a temporary market pavilion in Graz, AI-powered analyses were used to predict visitor flows and adjust the ventilation system. In Zurich, machine-learning algorithms helped assess the quality of the experience in a temporary park at different times of day. What sounds like a gimmick is actually a matter of grave seriousness: without these tools, the complexity of temporary interventions is virtually impossible to manage.

However, this technical depth requires new knowledge. Architects, urban planners, and developers must be familiar with data protocols, interface standards, and data protection laws. Anyone planning temporary architecture today cannot avoid training in data analysis, sensor technology, and AI ethics. The traditional role of the planner is being expanded to include the profile of a data manager. This may alarm some, but it is inevitable. Technical complexity is increasing—and with it, the expectations of clients.

What’s more, integrating these systems is an art in itself. Many temporary projects fail due to a lack of interoperability among the technologies used. Proprietary sensor systems clash with incompatible software, interfaces are poorly documented, and data goes to waste. Those who do not rely on open standards and modular systems here are creating a digital dead end for themselves. There is a need to catch up, particularly in Germany, Austria, and Switzerland. While Asian cities have long been using standardized platforms, Central European teams are often still tinkering with custom solutions—with the corresponding extra effort and potential for errors.

And finally, there remains the question of how to handle the data: Who stores it, who uses it, and who deletes it? Data protection and data sovereignty are not peripheral issues, but rather central prerequisites for the success of temporary architecture in real-time analysis. Without clearly defined responsibilities and transparent processes, the digital experiment risks becoming a social boomerang.

Sustainability and the Circular Economy: Temporary Architecture as a Sustainability Laboratory

Temporary architecture is, by definition, ephemeral—but that does not mean it leaves no trace. On the contrary: precisely because it is built to disappear again, it stands at the center of the sustainability debate. How can materials be selected so that they can be reused multiple times? How can temporary structures be carbon-neutral or even climate-positive? And what happens to the components after demolition? Real-time analysis offers new avenues of exploration here. By continuously measuring energy consumption, material wear and tear, and user behavior, temporary projects can serve as test beds for the circular economy and resource efficiency. In Zurich, a temporary wooden structure was dismantled after its use, and the individual modules were digitally tracked—to demonstrate how often and in what condition they can be reused.

The climate impact of temporary architecture can also be precisely measured today. Sensors record temperature trends, humidity, and air quality to assess how effectively a structure functions as a cooling zone or shade provider. In Vienna, a temporary pavilion was erected as a prototype for climate-positive construction. The real-time data confirmed that, with just a few structural measures, significant temperature differences compared to the surrounding area could be achieved—an argument that was incorporated into long-term urban planning. Temporary architecture thus becomes a catalyst for the sustainability transition.

However, there are also limits. Not every temporary project is automatically sustainable. The danger of greenwashing is real: if structures are reusable only on paper, or if dismantling them costs more energy than the original construction, the net effect is negative. Real-time analysis helps uncover these discrepancies—but it requires honesty and transparency from all parties involved. Sustainability becomes a measurable metric, not just a PR cliché.

The recyclability of temporary architecture is also an issue for the entire industry. Manufacturers, planners, and operators must work together to develop standards for how digital tools can document and optimize the life cycle of building components. In Switzerland, blockchain-based material passports are already being tested to track the whereabouts of components after dismantling. Such innovations are not just a gimmick, but an absolute necessity in a world of limited resources.

But here, too, the same principle applies: without political will and clear regulations, much of this effort remains piecemeal. Temporary architecture as a sustainability laboratory only works if the framework conditions are right—from promoting circular processes to disclosing environmental data. Real-time analysis provides the facts. What is done with them remains a societal decision.

Global Trends, Local Hurdles: Temporary Architecture Between Vision and Reality

Anyone who takes a look at the international scene quickly realizes that temporary architecture, as analyzed in real time, is no longer a niche topic. From New York to Shanghai, from Copenhagen to Melbourne, pop-up spaces, temporary parks, and mobile infrastructures are being equipped with digital measurement technology. The results are incorporated into strategic urban development. Asia and Scandinavia are leading the way. There, temporary structures are part of an agile urban planning approach that relies on data rather than dogma. In South Korea, for example, entire neighborhoods are set up temporarily to test the effects of new mobility concepts in real time. The data serves as the basis for decisions regarding long-term investments.

In German-speaking countries, the path is more rocky. While there are ambitious pilot projects, the leap from individual measures to structural integration has yet to be made. Municipal decision-making processes are sluggish, legal uncertainties hinder the courage to experiment, and skepticism toward digital surveillance is widespread. While cities like Vienna and Zurich are at least making progress in some areas, Germany remains hesitant in many sectors. The pressure to innovate is mounting, but implementation remains fragmented. This leads to a paradoxical situation: The technology is available, and so is the know-how—yet the willingness to truly venture into the unknown is limited.

Another stumbling block is the commercialization of temporary architecture. More and more providers are attempting to turn real-time analysis into a business model. As a result, data is not always openly accessible, and control over urban experiments lies with private actors. Who benefits? Who bears the risks? These questions are being raised with increasing urgency in the global debate. Algorithmic biases—such as those caused by flawed data sets or AI-based misinterpretations—are also a real problem. Temporary architecture in real-time analysis is not just a technical challenge, but a political one as well.

Nevertheless, the potential is enormous. Temporary architecture can serve as an early warning system for urban trends, as a driver of innovation for sustainable planning, and as a platform for citizen participation. If we succeed in combining global dynamics with local qualities, a new understanding of the city will emerge—one that is flexible, data-driven, and resilient. The challenge for planners and decision-makers is to seize these opportunities without slipping into technocratic activism or purely symbolic politics.

Ultimately, the question remains: Who will shape the temporary city of tomorrow? Will it be the tech giants, setting the pace with sensors and algorithms? Or will the city remain a public space whose development is supported by everyone? The answer will determine whether temporary architecture, driven by real-time analysis, becomes the blueprint for a better city—or just the next failed fad.

Conclusion: Real-time beats gut feeling—but only with the right mindset

Temporary architecture based on real-time analysis is more than just a passing trend. It is the litmus test for the innovative capacity of construction and urban planning in the German-speaking world. Those who harness the opportunities of digitalization can design urban spaces that are more resilient, sustainable, and socially inclusive. But this requires more than just enthusiasm for technology and sensor-based gimmicks. It demands a new mindset: openness to data, a willingness to evaluate, the courage to be transparent—and the ability to learn from mistakes. Only then can temporary architecture become a true laboratory for the future. The city of tomorrow is not created on the drawing board, but in the flow of data. Those who understand this build not just temporarily, but visionarily.

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.