This semester, your Master’s students have confronted the devastating aftermath of last year’s rock avalanche in Blatten. How did the idea for this project come about?
Martina Voser: The Lötschental has always been a valley that faced natural hazards. At the same time, it’s a landscape deeply imprinted by human activity. For centuries, people have lived there, farmed the land and cultivated its steep slopes. The rock avalanche destroyed this centuries-old layering of nature and culture in a matter of seconds. We were interested in the question of what comes next. Because landscapes are never simply nature; they always arise through an interplay between people and place.
What was the brief for the students?
The main question was: how do you recultivate an area like this? As landscape architects, we try to understand a place as a whole – not merely in terms of zoning, protected areas or permitted land usage. The students had to grapple with some fundamental questions. What does it mean for humans to shape landscapes in the twenty-first century? How do we deal with uncertainty? How do we live in these dynamic landscapes going forward? Because in Blatten, the debris cone is still moving. So much remains uncertain. But that’s what made the job so exciting – and so difficult.
How did the project actually unfold?
The students used an iterative design process to develop a remarkably diverse range of approaches. They moved back and forth between historical analysis and visions for the future, between scientific insights and cultural attitudes towards nature and landscapes, and between the immense scale of the entire valley and close-up spatial observations on the ground.
They worked with physical and digital models, drawings and plans, constantly switching between intuition and precision. This meant we were able to move beyond abstract discussions and could show things concretely. What might a future of this kind actually look like? What kind of identity could this place develop?
The students also received information about what the people of Blatten want, which was gathered through a democratic process. That process was primarily focused on the future of the village itself, rather than the landscape. But the students still had to engage with people’s genuine hopes and concerns.
What kind of ideas did the students come up with?
The range across the ten projects is enormous, and that’s what I find so exciting. They all started from the same situation on the ground and the same brief, yet came up with completely different answers. Some students wanted to leave as much as possible in the hands of nature, intervening only where protection is genuinely needed. Others sought out new forms of cultivation and ways of living alongside the dynamic landscape.
One two-person team developed adaptive terracing structures made from local materials, designed to move with the debris cone as it shifts. Others looked at building resilient, future-proofed forests or at slowing down water to reduce erosion. Another project proposed an entire network of ponds across the Lötschental, serving different functions for hydropower, agriculture, wildlife and new wetland habitats. There were also projects on aquaculture and gardens as places of healing and places where a new relationship with the landscape could arise. Running through all the projects was an underlying concern with storing water and slowing down water flow, and with striking a balance between people, flora and fauna.
How did students engage with the project?
What struck me most was the courage that students showed in embracing the project’s uncertainty. Design is always a process of searching, of not knowing what the right answer is. For a job like the one in Blatten, a great deal of sensitivity is required – and courage, too.
You often speak of dynamism and uncertainty. Why are those things so important?
Switzerland has a deeply ingrained engineering mindset. We focus a lot on control and stability. But we are witnessing landscapes becoming more dynamic and more unpredictable, through climate change and more natural phenomenon. So we need to rethink what can still be considered permanent and stable. With students, you can actually test out these kinds of ideas. They are allowed to think radically, which is an enormous asset.
Is having a sort of blank canvas to work on appealing for a landscape architect?
To be honest, it’s the most difficult kind of job there is. We never start from zero. Landscapes are always made up of layers: geology, water, vegetation, history and human use. In the Lötschental, the forces of nature are really palpable and can’t be ignored. At first glance, the debris cone looks almost like an empty space. But once you’re standing there, you quickly realise just how complex this place is – topographically, hydrologically and politically.
You visited Blatten with the students. What was it like to be there?
We were there in March, when snow was still on the ground. Despite the gentle blanket of snow covering everything, you could still feel the sheer force of what had happened. The landscape had lost its former structure. We were able to climb briefly onto the debris cone. From there you could see a vast quantity of material, roof gutters from buried houses on the other side of the valley, and entire forests that had been toppled by the force of the event. It was a humbling experience. The students responded with remarkable sensitivity. Many asked very precise questions. That’s exactly what we try to encourage with our teaching: not to rush in the search for answers, but to ask the right questions first.