Arch. Jonas Høiness



Approaching architecture



I like to sit under trees. I like to write. And to read. But mostly I like to use my hands. Grow and cook food, or build things with anything I find within arms reach. Thus most of my furniture I’ve made myself, using found materials. And my pizza-game is top notch, if I may say so.

My interests are very broad, and I spend a lot of time reading scientific litterature on themes such as ecology, self-sufficiency, human rights struggles, refugees, climate change, industrial production processes, alternative economies, stoic philosophies, meditation, roleplay, foraging, self-building, activism and human health.

Maybe not surprising that I’m a big fan of hard science fiction. 

All of these interests bleed into my work and make it somewhat reach beyond the common understanding of the architect’s role. To me the architect is a problem solver equipped with spatial tools, rather than a provider of the latest trends in spatial configurations.

The two definitions can overlap, of course, but it’s a question of emphasis.


Architecture is organised space, both physical and virtual, both man-made and naturally occuring. It allows for certain things to happen and other things to not. When distilled to its essence, architecture is just the framework that supports or hinders life (human + non-human) as it unfolds.

Then what kinds of life and activity should our architecture support?

My work and studies (and a basic level of common sense) have led me to believe that architecture can and should encourage community, rather than isolation; play and relaxation, rather than stress; sharing meals, rather than eating alone; closeness to nature, rather than separation from it; diversity of people and spaces, rather than sameness; adaptation and transformation, rather than static spaces and decay; physical movement, rather than sitting still.

They are the kinds of activities we all seem to enjoy already, so why not encourage them through built space?



But there are other considerations too.
(Obviously)

Materials, production processess, environmental impact, greenhouse gas emissions, labour conditions, local form language, relationships, economic impact, social impact, construction costs, running costs, maintenance costs, adaptability and demolition.

I generally approach these frugally - imagining a minimal budget - and with the mantra of “doing no harm” - to either the planet, the users, the ecosystem, the quality of space, etc.. which although might sound very constricting tend to generate some highly unique, fun and cheap spaces that harmonise with their environment and can be easily recycled/deconstructed/reused at the end of their lifespan.




I also play around with alternative perspectives on space by studying ecosystems. Not to copy natural forms, but to learn about the relationships between the different individuals and communities within the system, or the specific proportions found there. 

(When have we ever been able to design/build anything that looks or feels or are as resilient as nature is anyway?)

This process generates some very interesting spaces that can potentially serve both humans, plants, animals, insects, algae, fungi and other organisms. 


Might be a bit too much attitude here, but I see it no other way. There are so many deep rooted  problems in the world today. From rapid climate change and ecosystem collapse - to economic downturn and loneliness.

The construction industry is responsible for 40% of global greenhouse gas emissions. That statistic contains a great deal of processes, like the production of the materials (cement, steel, glass, etc.); transportation across vast distances by trailers, trains and ships; and the work at the construction site itself, but also includes bad design decisions that make the building expensive to heat or maintain or alter/demolish. 

Come on. We can do so much better. Local materials, natural heating and ventilation, materials that breathe, designing for disassembly. It’s not rocket science.

Similarly, the inhuman design practices that arose with modernism has been linked to a decline in average mental health. 

Boxy skyscraper apartments built with only highly processed materials (steel, glass, concrete) that are impossible for normal people to adapt to their own needs, in flat grass-covered “parks” with no ecological variation, and proportions so absurd and unseen in nature that we have no way to relate to them as living beings. Or what about the lack of public spaces for meeting/hanging out with other people, other than the stairway?

The built space equivalent of a shitty fast food hamburger, truly.

Some people debate that this is a postwar phenomena born out of necessessity, but it’s still happenening on an unprecedented scale, only now with slightly more expensive cladding. 

We can do better. 





Architecture is a joyous phenomena. So full of life and opportunities. When we do it we think of what it will mean for our loved ones. The safety and opportunities and the beauty we are enveloping them in. 

It is a practice steeped in heritage and tradition and creates community across generations. Shaping our spaces are one of the oldest human practices we know of, which also reveals the longevity of our actions. How old is Stonehenge do you think?

Architecture can open doors in closed rooms, be acts of celebration or rebellion against tyranny. It can be utopic and idealised, and even if its existence can sometimes be impossible it can still live on within the mind and inspire to greatness or provide respite from an unstable world.

It is in architecture that all knowledge meets and blends. Art and engineering, sure, but also geology, anthropology, archaeology, biology, ecology, gastronomy, anatomy and medicine. Not to mention different people and cultures!

It is truly an interdisciplinary and inclusive practice.




I like to sit under trees. I also like to make things. 

It’s a playful job, but it comes with a responsibility I take very very seriously. 

I think that’s obvious.



And now it’s getting late in the evening, so I’m going to end it here.

Ciao