Transforming a 15th century monastery into a performing arts residency
For this project, my partner and I reimagined an old monastery in Solothurn, Switzerland, as a center and residency space for performing artists. The design preserves the monastery as living quarters while introducing a new addition to its grounds. Guided by materiality, the project explored the notions of light and darkness, pushing the concept of the ‘black box’ theater. The resulting space enhances artistic expression through spatial and atmospheric contrast. Context: Semester, ETH Zurich // Timeline: Feb - May 2019 Tools: Physical Prototyping, Adobe Photoshop, AutoCAD // Skills: Concept Design, Prototyping Team: Kelly Meng, Johanna Schneider
A decline of monastic life gives way for creative reuse
The small Swiss town of Solothurn is shaped by its religious architecture, with three 15th- and 16th-century monasteries nearby. As monastic life declines, communities are looking for new ways to repurpose these sites while honoring their heritage. Our brief was to transform one of the monasteries into a performing arts residency with housing, practice spaces, and a space for public performances.
Google Maps view of the Kapuzinerkloster Solothurn, Switzerland
Original facade of the monastery (image credits: Selma Dubach)Garden of the monastery (image credits: Jeannine Hellbach)
Prioritizing preservation with a freestanding pavilion
When we visited the site, we were drawn to the historic architecture and wanted to preserve the monastery itself. Rather than alter the existing structure, we decided to limit our intervention to the addition of a freestanding pavilion on the site - providing a flexible space for rehearsal and performance, while the monastery retained its communal and residential functions.
Floor plan composed of snippets of a roman temmple floor planInspirations for the grid as a relational system of space
Starting with a nine-square grid
We began the project with an exploration of spatial organization through a floor plan composed of objets trouvés - pieces of the floor plan of a Roman temple. This initial composition, structured as a nine-square grid of dots and lines, provided a simple yet flexible basis for further development. This minimal framework allowed us to focus on the atmosphere and materiality of the space, rather than being constrained by complex spatial hierarchies.
With a strong emphasis on materiality, we looked to architects such as Peter Zumthor (Serpentine Pavilion), RCR Arquitectes (Les Cols Pavilions) and Christian Kerez (Kunstmuseum Liechtenstein) for inspiration. We were particularly fascinated by their use of light and shadow as well as the and continuous, monolithic facades.
First materiality experiment with charcoal and siliconeFirst physical model made of reflective, sanded charcoal
Exploring light and darkness with charcoal as material
Driven by a fascination by the blackness, rough texture, and its potential for transformation, we started experimented with charcoal. Sanding the charcoal revealed its reflective qualities, introducing an unexpected interplay between light and darkness.
Sketches of free movement within the pavilionFirst physical model made of sanded charcoal
Extruding two-dimensional elements into a three-dimensional body
Extruding our 2D floor plan, we created a three-dimensional composition of colossal, free-standing walls and pillars. Treating all elements equally erased the distinction between façade and structure, reinforcing a non-hierarchical space open to interpretation. We imagined the resulting space to function as both a rehearsal studio and a performance stage, with each square module serving as a flexible workspace for one artist. In this way, our material study shaped a literal black box theater—where performers define the space through their creativity.
Evolution of floor plan development
Creating a spacial experience defined by free movement
Beyond materiality, we explored how architecture shapes movement. With all spaces treated equally, there was no set sequence or prescribed experience. Varying porosities between walls and pillars allowed fluid circulation, letting performers and visitors navigate freely. This design encouraged an evolving interaction between space and user. In the final phase, we introduced curtains to create subtle zones, contrasting the monolithic Yakisugi-treated wood with softness and adaptability. These fabric elements served as the only spatial delineations, providing storage and resting areas for artists.
Site plan with all three elements: original monastery, herb garden, and pavilion
Creating a spacial dialogue between past and present
To position the pavilion, we analyzed the monastery and its herb garden, noting their slightly shifted axis. Extending this alignment, we placed the pavilion on an open lawn, balancing historic context while asserting its own presence. The size of each square mirrors the dimensions of the monastery’s existing rooms, reinforcing a dialogue between old and new.
Collection of work materials we developed during the project, including visualizations, technical drawings, and physical models
From Charcoal to Yakisugi-Treated Wood
While charcoal served as our conceptual foundation, its practical application in construction was limited. Instead, we turned to Yakisugi, a Japanese wood preservation technique that involves charring the surface to enhance durability and water resistance. This approach maintained the deep, rich blackness of our original material studies while making the design feasible at an architectural scale.
Process of constructing the final physical model
The physical model as tectile representation of our vision
To bring our vision to life, we constructed a 1.2m x 1.2m physical model using burnt wood and silver fabric. This model allowed us to capture the atmospheric qualities of the space through photography, emphasizing the interplay of darkness, reflection, and movement within the architecture.
Reflection & Challenges
By embracing materiality, openness, and transformation, I believe that we managed to create a project that redefines the role of architecture in performance—creating not just a stage, but a living, evolving space for artistic expression. Looking back, this project remains my favorite architectural work—not just because I still love the concept, but because of how naturally my partner and I worked together. From the start, we trusted our instincts, pushing forward with a strong spatial and atmospheric vision that felt right to us. Seeing that vision take shape in a tangible, functional design was incredibly rewarding. At the same time, being so concept-driven came with its challenges. Translating our ideas into something that could exist in the real world—accounting for Switzerland’s climate, rain, and other practical necessities—was often a struggle. But our collaboration made even the toughest parts feel manageable. We developed an intuitive way of working together: brainstorming as a team, with Kelly focusing on the visual representations while I built the physical model. Our workflow was so in sync that, despite the intensity and time commitment of the project, it felt like a breeze to work on—one of those rare times when everything just clicked.