Snow of Tomorrow | Building in the mountains

The Western Alps are not only known for their high mountains and gigantic ski resorts, but also for their curious alpine buildings. It's not just spectacular and modern Alpine Club huts and summit stations that are polarizing, but also places like Aime 2000, Tignes and Avoriaz, which represent a shift towards urbanity that we are otherwise unfamiliar with in the Alps.

There is a lot of talk about travelling to ski resorts as sustainably as possible, not driving through young forest and taking your garbage back with you at the summit. However, our ecological footprint extends further than we might think.

After all, who talks about the fact that the construction industry is responsible for over a third of all global CO2 emissions?

Few Alpine regions are as built-up and populated as the Alps. Avalanche barriers, tunnels, cable cars and bridges divide the landscape, have tamed it and made it accessible up to high altitudes. To this day, the Alpine region is characterized by a massive tourist infrastructure. In addition to the retreat of the glaciers, increasing urbanization is probably one of the most dynamic changes that can be seen in historical photos compared to today.

It's easy to get caught up in romanticizing the good old days. Since the 19th century, painting and the power of photography have created a kind of ideal image of the Alpine landscape that has been carried to the most remote regions of the Alps. An image that has hardly changed to this day and is even more different from reality in times of glitzy winter sports magazines and perfect Instagram posts.

So if you break away from everything old and build modern and bold, it's not right either. Flat roofs are criticized for being inappropriate for the Alpine region. High-tech summit stations with lots of glass and concrete delight mass tourists, while Alpine purists are outraged.

And then there are the real culprits that are often forgotten in the whole black-and-white discussion: Box-shaped buildings that look like they could be anywhere. In the city, next to the city or even in another country? We don't know. But in the end, these faceless façades without art and identity are also a reflection of our times.

You might think that building in the mountains is nothing special anymore. We solve the demands of environmental factors such as precipitation and extreme temperatures with the use of technology. More and more concrete and steel, seals and insulation and materials that are difficult to recycle are being used. The same everywhere, available to order at any time. The choice is huge, the end product is often monotonously the same. Everything is standardized and regulated. This is another reason why local building traditions and crafts are finding it increasingly difficult to hold their own against these market changes.

It's a shame, because techniques that have worked for centuries don't want to be forgotten and amateurishly disregarded. Adolf Loos, a pioneer of modern architecture, addressed the issue of alpine construction as early as 1912 in his publication: "Rules for those who build in the mountains":

"Do not be afraid of being scolded for being unfashionable. Changes to the old way of building are only permitted if they mean an improvement, but otherwise stick with the old."

A down-to-earth recommendation for someone who influenced an entire generation of planners by saying that ornamentation is a crime.

Continue on the next page -->

People usually saw the mountain world as unadorned, free of ornamentation and rather purist in nature. This is one reason why warm materials and artistic craftsmanship, especially in interior design, have always played an important role, both in the past and today. It evokes nostalgic associations for us, just as the pitched roof has become the epitome of alpine scenery for us.

Apropos cosiness: the improvements in living comfort and the energy efficiency of our buildings are very welcome, especially in the adverse mountain regions. But aren't the fast pace of life and the high consumption of resources in our buildings more of a deterioration compared to the past? According to Adolf Loos' quote, shouldn't we then be thinking back to the old?

For a long time, wood, stone and lime plaster were the most common building materials. They were readily available in the most remote Alpine valleys and easy to work with. A stone plinth was used to raise the wooden structure on top to protect it from snow and moisture. A sloping roof with a generous overhang protected the façade from above. We can see relics of this banal but ingenious construction on ski tours at the many mountain huts. They still stand today and were built with the simplest of means.

We pay attention to many things on a ski tour: the avalanche danger, the group dynamics, but also the best descent, the great view or getting involved in lively discussions. I would like to encourage everyone to pay attention to something completely different: Look at the mountain huts, the alpine pastures and the cable car stations, the hotel castles, the village centers and the towns in the Alps. Take a close look at our built environment. You will be surprised at the exciting stories they tell about themselves and about us; they are legacies, contemporary witnesses and contemporary infrastructure at the same time. Evaluate them according to personal standards. And let us experience them more consciously, choose them and have a say in them.

Would a bold rocky spire like the Aiguille du Midi be developed in this day and age? I'm not sure. Despite all the achievements of construction technology, the spirit of the times has at least allowed for a little more mindfulness and common sense. But isn't unreasonableness sometimes also exciting?