Reframing architecture as a field of experimentation, Experimental Foundation offers an alternative model for spatial practice grounded in curiosity, sustainability, and industry collaboration. Professor Regine Leibiniger and Chrissie Muhr — joined by Baukreisel, Maria Lisogorskaya, Kaye Song, Anna Pomazanna and Mykhailo Shevchenko —  discuss the Experimental Fellowship’s focus on enabling architectural vision to reclaim risk.

This conversation is the first in a series of contributions in collaboration with Experimental Foundation. Established in Berlin in 2022, the Experimental Fellowship supports practice-led, research-based architectural projects that foreground experimentation as both method and ethos.

FEDERICA ZAMBELETTI / KOOZ I’d like to begin by reflecting on the fellowship itself, and on the kinds of institutions and philanthropic frameworks that support a more generous architectural practice. Could you describe the architectural philanthropic landscape at the time the Experimental Fellowship was founded?

PROF. REGINE LEIBINGER It's now almost three years since we began, in September 2022. The decision to start the fellowship was highly personal. It came at a particular moment in my life, and it’s important to understand this in the context of Barkow Leibinger, the practice I've been part of for the past 33 years. I’m German. I studied architecture in Berlin, then went to the U.S. to study at Harvard GSD, where I met Frank Barkow. We spent a year in Rome before coming back to Berlin to start the office. Teaching was always a parallel pursuit, but architecture — and Barkow Leibinger — has been the core of my life’s work.

I come from a family business in Stuttgart, producing sheet metal and machine tools. Both my parents had foundations of their own. After they passed away, my siblings and I inherited this company, along with a legacy rooted in generosity and responsibility. Growing up, we were taught that if you have more, you owe something back to society. That ethos was a major driving force. So naturally, the idea for this foundation is deeply rooted in my identity as an architect — not necessarily as part of Barkow Leibinger, but as an individual practitioner.

Sustainability was also becoming increasingly urgent — something that hadn't been as front and centre ten years earlier. It’s considerably hotter now, even in cities like Milan, and there’s a growing awareness of the built environment’s role in climate change — some 40% of emissions, after all. As a practicing architect, I knew how hard it was to shift industry mindsets or convince clients to build differently. That’s when the idea crystallised: what if we supported individuals with radical, experimental ideas? Ideas others wouldn’t fund?

Having joined Experimental about a year and a half ago, I can say this kind of opportunity is still very rare. Even though topics such as sustainability and innovation are being discussed more, we’re often still in a bubble. Institutions and foundations that truly engage in this way are few and far between. We see initiatives like OBEL or HouseEurope!, and earlier ones like Atelier LUMA — but it remains a niche field, especially in Germany, where there isn’t a strong culture of continuous architectural education. There's still limited access for these topics to meaningfully enter the discourse and so, to alter building realities.

RL Yes, exactly — it’s really about bridging the gap between research, practice, and industry. That’s the core of what we’re trying to do. It only works from the outside — with external belief and philanthropic or institutional funding. This kind of support simply doesn’t exist within conventional architectural pathways. That’s what makes this fellowship so special.

KOOZ Could you expand on the thinking behind the academy and the fellowship? How do you understand this idea of an incubator for experimentation? Experimental places more emphasis on collaboration and mentorship that spans several months. Why did you feel that longer-term relationships were necessary to change the direction of architectural practice?

RL I wanted to establish the format of a fellowship programme for a few reasons. From my experiences teaching in the US, I know that especially for tenure-track professors, there is almost no time to step out of the grind of academic publishing. A fellowship grant allows practitioners and academics to take a break, but usually they want to be left alone. That model is the opposite of what we’re doing.

Our approach is intentionally more active and collaborative. It’s a constant learning process — we refine everything all the time, from how we write the call for fellows to how we select them. We’ve been running Experimental for three years now, and Chrissie and I have been doing it together for about half that time. This idea of experimentation is essential to the foundation — it’s embedded in our name and in our way of thinking.

We’re now focusing less on early-career candidates and more on practitioners who have already some experiences — not complete beginners. Though we did debate a very compelling case just recently for a Masters student from the University of Stuttgart who applied for our recent Open Call. The big difference in our model is that it’s not just about giving someone a cheque. We invite fellows to Berlin to  define their presence and work there, aligning their project timeline with the programme. Chrissie handles much of the framework of the collaboration; some fellows’ presence overlap, which allows for exchange. I’d prefer them to spend more time in Berlin — in the workshop, actively doing things. In the end, we would aim for some kind of “product” — a real-world implementation. We aim for a full-scale prototype — a physical model, whether it’s a beginning or a midpoint of something larger.

CM This factor allows us to make a real, collective difference — which makes this fellowship programme quite unique. We’ve been very intentional about ensuring that it doesn’t resemble other residencies or grant schemes. Coming back to the idea of awards — those usually celebrate something already accomplished. In contrast, the Experimental Fellowship is a commission aimed at advancing sustainable and regenerative approaches to architecture and building. It’s a proactive, collaborative effort.

The process starts with an open call. We received 199 submissions in the most recent round — up from 120 the year before, and 50 and 30 in earlier years. That rising interest points toward the urgency and growing relevance of this kind of support and practices. We consider both the proposal itself and the profile of the applicant. Topics we’ve engaged with include regenerative materials — like working with Paludi reeds, concrete reuse, mussel waste — as well as bio-based and local materials more broadly. We don’t draw strict lines between regenerative, bio-based and reuse and repair; rather, we embrace the continuum, the circularity they represent.

"Fellow” is a compelling term — because we truly accompany the participants closely, as a team. We assess where a person or practice currently stands and how we can help foster their trajectory — it’s a very individuated process. One applies with a proposal, a profile, and if with already potential partners and a network. From there, we identify the scope of the fellowship project and how we’ll work together over the next six, nine, or even twelve months — depending on what the proposal demands. It’s a deeply collaborative structure. We hold conversations and interviews with fellows throughout the selection process, to understand how we can best shape the process together. So far, we've worked with people from all over the world and across a wide range of themes. That ongoing mutual learning has been incredibly rich.

We’re committed to keeping the programme open and adaptable. People have commented that our call-outs can sound a bit vague, but we believe that vagueness allows for the freedom to support truly diverse and versatile practices. That openness is essential to what we want to foster.

KOOZWhat feels unique about the space you’re creating is its openness. I remember being in academia and hearing, “Make the most of this time, because in the real world, there’s no space left for experimentation and imagination.” Once architects begin navigating project-based work, they’re often caught in structured, reactive dynamics. Clients are frequently in the driver’s seat, but not always from a visionary standpoint. So, to encounter something like the Experimental Foundation’s Fellowship is quite rare. Regine, from your experience as a practitioner, how vital is it to nurture these spaces?

RLIt’s more important than ever to create space for experimentation. Of course, this also depends on the context. Speaking from Germany, experimentation really isn’t happening in a meaningful way; there is research, but it tends to be highly technical. In contrast, there is a  Basel-based Spanish architecture practice called Parabase, whose project ELEMENTA — proposing the adaptive reuse of an old parking structure for housing — has been widely discussed. Perhaps it’s even idealised in some ways, but the fact that such briefs exist shows the openness of clients elsewhere in terms of reimagining space.

In Germany, this kind of openness is harder to come by. Experimentation has always been essential for architects in practice, but it’s always been a luxury too — something that was possible for Barkow Leibinger only because Frank and I were always teaching. Research was embedded in our practice, and we often brought students into the office to explore ideas. Not everyone can afford to do that — and now it’s even harder. When we were starting out, there were so many open competitions; you could easily participate, test out ideas, and engage the field that way. Now, it’s become incredibly restrictive — especially for young architects. To qualify for most competitions, they have to prove they’ve built something, and must accumulate a certain stature before they can even apply. It creates a huge barrier to entry… which is exactly why programs like Experimental are so essential right now.

CMI think you’ve just pointed out something incredibly important, namely understanding the structures and conditions that shape these practices. As you mentioned, in places like Denmark or Switzerland, public commissioners often play a critical role. Take the Parabase project —  which would repurpose concrete elements from the demolished parking garage both as supporting structure and as part of the façade design for the newly-proposed housing — as an example. It’s part of a broader urban transformation initiative led by the Basel-Stadt canton’s building department. By reusing components from demolished cantonal properties, the canton enables the scaling of this application in further projects.

That kind of openness is powerful, even though it brings its own set of challenges. And I think this also touches on another crucial issue — the narrative and how we value these practices. When we talk about repair, additional costs, or reuse, we have to ask: why do we do it? The first step is creating awareness — through architecture and through practice — about why these approaches matter and can contribute to a systemic change. Potentially that’s where architecture holds its highest potential. We are uniquely equipped to shape narratives. The narrative itself becomes the entry point — the revaluation — which can ultimately lead to structural changes and transformations in practice. That’s core to what we’re doing.

RLWhat’s crucial to understand is that in the case of many of the materials we’re working with, we simply lost the knowledge of how to use them fifty years ago. Now people are trying to reactivate such materials through contemporary practice. No one really knows how they’ll behave — like reused concrete aggregates or structural elements, for instance. This makes extra funding essential if we want to push these materials forward. If you're simply tweaking how you use bricks or concrete, that’s one thing. But if you’re developing infra-light concrete, or working — to recall a particular researcher at EPFL (École Polytechnique Fédérale de Lausanne) — to create full-scale experiments and remixing components: that's an entirely different level. That kind of research is currently happening at universities, but there’s a massive gap when it comes to bridging that with practice. There’s no funding to support that in-between space.

If researchers want to bring their innovations into architectural practice — which many do — they often find themselves blocked, because they lack both clients and financial support. That’s precisely the gap we’re addressing. And that’s what makes Experimental so special. It’s not about glossy presentations. Of course aesthetics matter — beauty is very important — but we’re also committed to accelerating development through targeted funding. That’s the real contribution.

And this is more urgent than ever. We’ve worked with fellows exploring all sorts of experimental materials: material cultures working with Paludi reed, a team from Argentina working with mussel waste, others pushing concrete reuse and recently, a strong focus on earth-based materials. Right now, we have two incredible fellows from Ukraine. Their country is facing such devastation, yet they’ve brought a vision to work with the war-polluted soil of their land — a deeply courageous and moving project. Their determination is humbling. Many of our fellows are truly extraordinary, and I think we learn as much from them as they might from us.

CMIndeed, those fellows — Grunt (which is Ukrainian for earth), also known as Anna Pomazanna and Mykhailo Shevchenko — just opened their pavilion in the Ukrainian city of Lviv in June. One of the key aspects is that we give fellows access to the network, community, and expertise we have in Berlin to help them reflect on and refine their practice. For instance, Material Cultures worked with Constructive Land in Berlin-Brandenburg, engaging with Paludiculture landscapes and wetlands, and then connected those learnings back to their UK-based work. It’s a two-way exchange.

The same applies to Anna and Mykhailo. In their case, it’s not just about demonstrating proof of concept — especially considering how much building knowledge has to be reactivated with earth-based materials, especially on site in Ukraine. Given the risks associated with working with contaminated soil from war-torn regions, the fellowship offers support both in advancing the practice and in helping them take agency to bring that work into institutional systems. In particular, the fellowship gave their project a sense of authority and substance as they shared it with their public commissioner.

When we talk about materials, we’re also talking about value chains. The work around the pavilion, including producing compressed earth blocks, involved engaging local municipalities, speaking with communities, securing local sources for materials — this has already shifted public awareness and understanding. Grunt has also worked extensively with students, so the project became a direct contribution to education. So on one hand, it's about prototyping and building — creating tangible references and pilot projects that can scale material use in the built environment and contribute to systemic shifts. On the other hand, it’s about dissemination and documentation of the knowledge gained — embedding those insights into public discourse and most importantly, fostering awareness.

KOOZYou’ve described the fellowship as a continuous learning process, and it’s clear that the approaches taken by the fellows are varied. How do the ambitions and projects supported by the foundation evolve in tandem with — or in response to — concerns within the industry, as well as broader socio-political contexts? How do you decide which spaces, issues, or urgencies to give this opportunity for visibility and support?

RLYes, we do look at the applications quite closely, and it’s clear that Experimental is fundamentally about material. That’s our first filter — we’re not open to just any kind of proposal. The material focus is deeply rooted in the way the foundation functions and in how we’ve always thought and worked. Of course, you can’t really separate that thinking from my own background and experiences; that already sharpens the scope. Take Assemble, for instance: such an interesting and pioneering office, with a versatile approach, and they’re working on a real project in Italy with a strong material dimension. That selection came after some learning experiences — we had a situation that didn’t work out, and we needed to choose with someone more experienced: Assemble made sense.

The Ukrainian team was different; that was entirely unexpected. We originally intended to select only one fellow, but in the middle of the jury process, we decided to fund a second. Their proposal around contaminated soil was incredibly compelling and urgent. Furthermore, they want to develop a general methodology on polluted building materials that could apply beyond Ukraine. There is ambition to expand that research to other countries  and that feels significant.

In both cases, the focus on materials was central. One fellow is highly established, the other relatively early in their career. But for me, there was also a sense of responsibility towards Grunt: these two young people came from a country in turmoil and presented such dedication to doing something meaningful. That intention had to be acknowledged and fostered. This year, our approach has evolved. We started asking ourselves: will the fellowship make a tangible difference to this person’s work? It’s not just about whether someone is deserving, but rather considering how the support could actually trigger and allow for a mutually meaningful contribution.

CMTo return to the earlier question about the long-term vision, our path has evolved through continued learning: beginning with Material Cultures’ work on Paludiculture, then moving into the reuse of primary concrete structures, and more recently, towards earth-based approaches. With each fellow, we’ve entered new territory, and we learn alongside them.

On the one hand, we bring our existing networks and the knowledge that the Foundation already holds; on the other, we build and expand upon that, in collaboration with each fellow. What emerges is a dynamic process of knowledge production — ongoing, iterative, and rooted in documentation and archiving. At the same time, we’re constantly asking: how can we make this knowledge useful and accessible? How can it be translated into different spheres of agency — industry, policy, and beyond? We see this happening in various ways, including through collaborations with our fellowship partners.

Looking ahead, the idea is to continue growing this body of knowledge within the foundation through diverse fellowships. For example, we’re now supporting two post-doctoral researchers at Harvard GSD’s Laboratory for Design Technology (LDT) over the course of one year. This collaboration came about not only because of personal ties — in full disclosure, Regine both studied and teaches there — but rather from a shared recognition for fostering timely and meaningful intervention through education.

Later this year, we plan to launch a third fellowship, which will focus more closely on the interface between practice and industry. Each new stream opens up different fields of expertise, allowing us to promote a broader range of practices. At the same time, we remain committed to building a strong sense of continuity — especially through the alumni network. There’s deep, personal knowledge developed through these fellowships, and we want to nurture those relationships to create an ecosystem of mutual support.

Ultimately, our ambition is for the foundation to serve as a kind of catalyst — even as an authority — on these topics, while ensuring accessibility. That’s why we’ve adopted a Creative Commons license for all work developed within the fellowship. So far, we haven’t had any patents emerge, but the principle from the start has been openness and shared knowledge. This is the direction we’re building toward.

KOOZThis is a good time to hear from some of the fellows, as we are joined by Maria Lisogorskaya and Kaye Song from Assemble, Anna Pomazanna and Mykhailo Shevchenko of Grunt, and by Baukreisel. How has this Experimental Fellowship — and the space of experimentation it granted — informed your work and practice?

MARIA LISOGORSKAYA AND KAYE SONGThis period has been an incredible opportunity to spend dedicated time and receive expert support to explore light-earth — a low-carbon construction technique that mixes clay slip with fibres — both as insulation in contemporary buildings and as ornamentation. We’ve visited buildings, factories, and workshops, meeting a wide network of practitioners across Germany and Switzerland. This has helped us situate our research within the long history of earth building, while also understanding the challenges faced by the construction industry today. Alongside this, we had the chance to work hands-on at Stiftung Sitterwerk in St. Gallen, experimenting with traditional light-earth methods and integrating techniques from art production to explore how materials and processes could be varied for different aesthetic outcomes. As a practice, Assemble aims to design ecologically, to specify more bioregional materials and deliver projects that respond meaningfully to the environmental, social, and economic challenges of our time. The Fellowship gave us critical context — a firsthand understanding of working with earth and fibres, and a clearer picture of the hurdles to broader adoption and scalability.

BAUKREISELWhile small-scale or model-based experimentation is common in architecture, full-scale (1:1) testing — especially of primary structural elements — is still largely limited to academic institutions and long research cycles like PhD programs. Having access to a space that enabled iterative, hands-on research at a more immediate scale allowed us to close the gap between experimentation and application. This mindset led us to compress the timeline from concept to implementation. During the Fellowship, we were able to take one of our three concrete reuse approaches from initial idea through research to realisation in an active construction project — a shift that has transformed how we work as a practice.

Since then, we’ve launched two additional research initiatives, each aimed at moving from idea to prototype to implementation within a year. This process has shown us that architectural practice doesn’t have to be separate from material or structural innovation — even methods typically seen as out of reach can be folded into everyday workflows. Working at a 1:1 scale with structural elements not only gave us deeper technical insight but also the agility to integrate research directly into live projects. It reinforced our belief that practice-based experimentation can be a powerful engine for innovation — and that architecture thrives when testing, learning, and building happen in dialogue with one another.

KOOZOne of the most compelling aspects of the fellowship program is the way it bridges practice with industry. How are those relationships developed — not only for one-off collaborations, but also for longer-term change? Is there potential for these research collaborations to scale into broader discourses or transformations within the industry itself?

CMIn the project Constructive Land Berlin-Brandenburg by Material Cultures, the fellows directly developed the project onsite with manufacturers, stakeholders, and members of the existing Paludiculture network. That included partnerships with wood manufacturers and other industry actors — so it was a very hands-on, site-specific collaboration. With Baukreisel, we built connections with demolition companies, recyclers, and concrete manufacturers. That project initiated two things: first, it allowed the fellows to integrate those partnerships into their ongoing work or launch new initiatives; second, it sparked the formation of a new network — a community of industry collaborators, emerging organically from the project.

The third example is the Earth, Lightly project by Maria Lisogorskaya and Kaye Song of Assemble, which is closely linked to Assemble’s renovation project in Treviso commissioned by the Villa Filanda Antonini. There, the team has already mapped out regional material and manufacturing partners in Northern Italy. They’re working with these partners to develop prototypes and mock-ups. Currently, they’re testing various light-earth mixtures and exploring molding techniques, producing 1:1 mock-ups that have been presented at the Final Colloquium and an exhibition — ‘On Earth Construction’,  alongside the other earth-focused team — in Berlin at the end of July. So each fellowship activates its own network of industry engagement, often extending beyond the project itself and creating longer-term relationships.

KOOZOne of the most compelling potentials of foundations like Experimental is that they function not only as funding bodies, but precisely as evolving networks. People come together at different moments in time — how do fellows remain engaged after their active cycle ends? More broadly, how does simply being part of the Experimental network create opportunities for ongoing dialogue and exchange?

RLI think continued engagement varies with the fellows themselves — some are more open to it, others less so. This also circles back to your earlier question about selection. Material Cultures was fantastic because they were part of launching Experimental and helped shape our early public presence. The second collaboration with Baukreisel was meaningful at a time when no one knew what Experimental even was. In that sense, they played an important foundational role.

In hindsight, collectives like Material Cultures or Assemble may not truly “need” us at this point. They’re quite established and already have substantial platforms of their own. Looking ahead, I’m increasingly drawn to working with practices where the fellowship makes a crucial difference. I think those kinds of fellows might have more capacity and benefit from continued collaboration, conversation, and exchange over time.

CMOne thing we’re now actively considering, as the fellowship programme grows, is how to foster meaningful ongoing engagement — especially around dissemination. This year, we’re already supporting nine fellows: the seventh at Experimental Fellow at Bauhaus Earth’s second cycle, plus two at Harvard GSD. By year’s end, with the next partner and selection, we’ll have supported ten fellows over the past three to four years.

With this expanding community, we’re asking: how can we create formats that keep the dialogue alive? One possibility is hosting an annual summit — not just to revisit the themes of each cycle, but as a way to reunite fellows and connect them with the broader network that has formed around their projects. That could include collaborators, industry partners, and other peers, creating a space for exchange and ongoing conversation. This idea is becoming a central consideration as we think about programming and dissemination — how to design formats that sustain momentum and strengthen the network long after a given fellowship ends.

KOOZProjects supported by the Fellowship typically aim to produce architectural fragments at a manageable scale — 1:1 experimental prototypes that can be integrated into real contexts. In this light, what specific questions did your project seek to explore, and what tangible outcomes—whether experimental prototypes, insights, or contextual applications — emerged as a result?

ML & KSOur research questions — focusing on the formal and haptic uses of light earth in contemporary architectural language — are exploratory and open-ended, drawing on both our experience with the creative process as artists and our approach to system design as architects. We also aimed to tie the Fellowship to Assemble’s live building project: the renovation of a former textile factory in Treviso, Italy, into a mixed-use arts centre. The Fellowship provided us with the time and space to develop techniques for the project’s construction, making use of agricultural, forestry, and textile waste from the bioregion.

We began by learning about the history of earth building — especially the ways minerals, fibres, and specific techniques have been used to achieve decorative results without the expensive carbon price tag. We found that light earth building presents a unique opportunity to create large insulating volumes with a fraction of the material typically used in traditional rammed earth walls. Light earth relies on moulds and shuttering — processes we sought to push the limits of — and we discovered that varying the amount and type of fibre allowed us to imprint interesting surfaces or form less friable edges.

We welcome the renaissance in earth building within contemporary construction, though we also find that the culture and discourse surrounding it can often feel overly sober and serious. As such, we’re interested in how light earth could bring more playfulness into the conversation — how techniques could be adapted with contemporary tools and existing industrial infrastructure to produce forms that are fun and expressive. Ornament often suffers from a reputation for excess and kitsch, yet its history is undeniably rich, with a longstanding tradition of use to protect vulnerable edges. We believe it’s important that buildings both function well and possess beauty. Through our experimental prototypes, we set out to re-conceptualise techniques and repurpose tools, suggesting how adapted light earth construction could allow us to be strategic about material use—both in type and quantity — while remaining characterful: lightweight and light-hearted.

AP & MSOur research centred on two interconnected questions: firstly, can warfare-impacted soils from eastern and southern Ukraine — later narrowed to Kharkiv Oblast — be treated for use as local construction material? And second: can their contaminants be safely immobilised, to protect people and ecosystems over the long term? We began with an in-depth mapping and investigation into soil contamination, benchmarks and existing remediation strategies. From this, we developed two primary approaches: encapsulation and dilution. Encapsulation involves enclosing contaminated soil within layers of bio-based insulation and clay or lime plasters, forming buffer systems that immobilise heavy metals at the core. Dilution, by contrast, blends polluted soils with cleaner materials such as washed sand or crushed concrete to lower contaminant concentrations while preserving structural integrity.

It was essential for us to test these concepts at full scale. In Lviv, we built a pavilion — the first structure in Ukraine made from locally sourced compressed earth blocks and reuse concrete and brick foundation. While the local soil we used there was not polluted, the pavilion functions as a living lab. It allows us to monitor how various protective coatings affect erosion and, potentially, the release of contaminants. Beyond its technical purpose, the pavilion also makes a broader statement: earthen materials are viable, sustainable alternatives for regional construction in Ukraine. And symbolically, it speaks to the significance of soil in a country fighting to defend its land.

BAUKREISELOur research focused on practical, scalable strategies for reusing concrete. Though the topic has been studied for decades, few reuse methods have been widely adopted in real-world construction. Our goal was to shift that by developing simple, accessible techniques — solutions that “anyone can apply” from a project-related to a product-related reuse. We addressed key challenges around reducing the cost and complexity of reusing primary concrete structures. Rather than attempting to reactivate embedded steel reinforcement, we focused on the inherent material properties of concrete — its compressive and residual tensile strength. Treating it as a kind of synthetic stone, we drew on low-tech construction techniques rooted in historical precedent: monolithic point foundations, drop-in ceilings, and brick-based walls.

These strategies were tested through a series of full-scale (1:1) mock-ups built on-site in Berlin. Two findings stood out. First, even concrete with relatively low compressive strength can support loads equivalent to three-story timber structures, enabling reused slabs to serve as foundation elements with up to 95% lower CO₂ emissions than conventional linear footings. Second, we showed that the residual tensile strength of reused concrete — when paired with timber beams — can span widths sufficient for ceiling construction. This reveals new possibilities for hybrid structural systems using reclaimed materials. Our findings suggest that by simplifying reuse methods and aligning them with familiar construction logic, we can significantly expand the practical uptake of circular building practices in the concrete sector.

KOOZRegine, you spoke earlier about how competitions once served as a fertile space for experimentation, and how a strong public realm would facilitate that in some countries. What role can private foundations play in contexts where public support is weaker? Where do you see this heading, and what kind of models or collaborations might emerge moving forward?

RLCollaborations like the one between Experimental and Bauhaus Earth are already a powerful starting point — a kind of driving force. On one side, there’s our emerging foundation, and on the other, Bauhaus Earth, which enjoys significant visibility thanks to its founder and names like Prof. Hans Joachim Schellnhuber. That visibility elevates the collaboration, even if people aren't entirely sure what’s going on behind the scenes. It can provide a strong platform from which to build.

But from there, it’s about making these collaborations more public and more legible. That’s where we still need to do more — finding partners, increasing visibility, and bringing in new stakeholders, especially from the private sector. Our goal moving forward is to find other partnerships that strengthens the foundation's reach while drawing private industry in more intentionally as an active stakeholder. I’m sometimes skeptical of the word “network,” but it’s really about activating meaningful connections and showing what we’re capable of. It’s like being a young architect — you need built work to prove your worth. That’s how we became successful at Barkow Leibinger: we were able to show projects early on, and that visibility made a difference.

The same goes for the fellows. The more they produce — whether through 1:1 prototypes, collaborations, or real-world applications — the more seriously the programme is taken. We’ve already earned recognition, but we can’t sit still. We have to keep producing, keep pushing forward, and continue to make things happen.

CMYes, exactly — and this ties directly back to the question of bridging and connection. What's crucial is that the fellowship isn’t just about offering support at a single point in time. We try to anticipate what might come next. With Baukreisel, for example, the prototypes they developed were important, but just as significant were the relationships they began to build during the process. Those connections have only grown stronger since.

So bridging, in this context, really means facilitating those connections — not just between fellows and their own work, but between them and wider ecosystems. Whether it’s industry, community partners, or institutions, these relationships form the foundation for longer-term transformation.

RLThe act of connecting is powerful. And I think we can be very confident in what it means to have been part of Experimental. You immediately recognise that there’s something substantial behind that trajectory. In the same way, my hope is that the Experimental stamp carries some weight in the future. It signals rigour, commitment, and forward-thinking practice. It tells us that this person has already gone through a meaningful process; has been exposed to high-level collaboration, and contributed to a larger discourse. That kind of experience helps them go further — it opens doors and sets them up for ongoing success.

KOOZThat’s such an important point. Many paths in architecture still pass through elite institutions and prominent offices, but there’s no denying how much background, opportunity, and access shape those trajectories. How do you include those who may not have had access to prestigious schools or practices — yet have strong ideas and valuable perspectives? In short, how does the foundation make room for alternative pathways into the fellowship?

CMThat’s a crucial point, and one that we’re constantly reflecting on. Visibility and outreach are absolutely essential through open calls or scouting. It’s not only about refining how we assess profiles, but also about questioning how we reach those who might not be on conventional radars or already recognised. The Open Call allows a wide reach; our latest received 199 submissions. Through that open process we could find talents like the Grunt team and project. So for us, the open call isn’t just a selection tool — it’s a mechanism for discovery. It helps surface emerging voices we might not otherwise hear.

RLWe’ve learned a lot about the application timeline and process. What really makes a difference is speaking directly with the candidates. You might have a portfolio in front of you, but it's in conversation that you truly understand who they are. That’s why we conduct interviews as part of the selection process. Applicants first submit their materials, then we compile a longlist, from which we create a shortlist. That shortlist is interviewed by the entire jury. It’s actually quite a rigorous process. The final decision usually comes from those interviews — because that’s when you can really gauge what a candidate hopes to gain, where they’re at, how they think. Whether they’re young or more experienced, it all becomes clearer through dialogue.

KOOZWe’ve touched on some of the long-term ambitions of Experimental, but looking ahead — now that the foundation has been active for three years and already accomplished so much — what is your broader vision for its evolution over the next decade?

RLAbsolutely; looking ahead, I want to scale Experimental up. One fellow per cycle isn’t enough. I envision something closer to a small cohort each semester, like a class. That kind of peer group creates so much potential for exchange — not just with us, but among the fellows themselves. It deepens the learning. Another key goal is expanding collaborations. While our relationship with Bauhaus Earth has been positive, I’m keen on asserting more independence. And we need to make that clear by carving out our own identity, through new partnerships and visibility.

Most importantly, it can never remain at the level of experimental aesthetics or rhetoric. I believe in driving architectural change — not just discourse, but built reality. That means engaging industry not just as spectators or sponsors, but as co-developers. My vision is for Experimental to help catalyse materials that are market-ready, that can be implemented and truly shift practice. That’s the next step: from visionary ideas to architectural impact.

CMYes, when you break it down, it's again part of the discussion that Experimental really acts as a catalyst and increasingly as a connector — and even an authority in the long term — on topics related to regenerative building practices. And I think what's also really important is ensuring accessibility of this knowledge, with a strong emphasis on sharing it with industry, clients and stakeholders.

KOOZI mean, obviously, when we talk about regenerative architecture, there’s a dominant discourse shaped by European and Western frameworks. But there are clearly very different articulations depending on local contexts and geographies. So I’m curious — does Experimental actively seek to engage with these other perspectives?

CMThe core condition of the fellowship is that it’s a mutual, collaborative program, which means it requires a certain proximity between fellows and our base in Berlin, Europe. That said, we’re really interested in exploring how different cultural, regulatory, and geographic contexts shape regenerative practices. With our most recently announced new fellows from South East Asia — Hanoi-based Ha Nguyen of ARB Architects and Hojung Kim joined forces as the research lab Making Matters — our experience is proving to be equally rich, while at the same time building up on earth-based practice and knowledge. Even within Europe, you already see huge cultural differences in building practices and conditions — between Italy and Denmark, or even Switzerland and Germany. So opening up and especially connecting further research is incredibly interesting and something we’re keen to pursue.

About

Experimental is a Berlin-based non-profit organisation founded by architect Prof. Regine Leibinger in 2022. It supports projects that aim to redefine the field of architecture by challenging how and with what we build. Committed to sustainability beyond the technical, Experimental focuses on spatial quality and aesthetics. It provides emerging talents with financial and organisational support, creating space for experimentation and the development of unconventional questions and project ideas. The Experimental Fellowship at Bauhaus Earth has promoted seven fellows over the last three years. Building up the fellowship program with further partners, in July 2025 two postdoc Experimental Fellows at Harvard GSD are supported for one year and a next Experimental Fellowship is supposed to start at the end of the year.

Bios

Regine Leibinger has been leading the architectural practice Barkow Leibinger in Berlin together with Frank Barkow since 1993. The spectrum of their work ranges from master planning, urban high-rises, office and industrial buildings to residential buildings, installations and prototypical exhibition pavilions. Regine Leibinger was Professor of Building Construction and Design at the TU Berlin, Visiting Professor at Princeton University and Cornell University, and since 2022, she regularly teaches as Design Critic in Architecture at Harvard University, Graduate School of Design. She is a member of the Architecture Section at the Akademie der Künste in Berlin and a member of the Dean's Leadership Council at Harvard GSD. In 2022, Regine Leibinger founded the non-profit organisation Experimental Foundation, which supports projects that explore new territories in architecture with the goal of changing how and with what we build.

Chrissie Muhr is an architect, researcher and curator based in Basel. She is the Co-Managing Director and Artistic Director of the Experimental Foundation in Berlin, a non-profit organisation and Fellowship Program that promotes experimental, practice-based work for sustainable architecture futures. Muhr is curatorial advisor and editor of the catalogue for the Danish Pavilion, Build of Site: Making Matter What Too Often Does Not Matter by Pihlmann Architects at the 2025 Venice Architecture Biennale. She recently curated the exhibition and edited the catalogue Reset Materials: Towards Sustainable Architecture at Copenhagen Contemporary in 2023,. She has previously held curatorial and research positions at Vitra and ARCH+ Magazine in Berlin, and regularly teaches and critiques internationally at institutions including ETH Zurich, HGK Basel, EPFL Lausanne, HEAD Genève, Aarhus School of Architecture, TU Wien, TU Munich, the Architectural Association in London and most recently at Harvard GSD.

Maria Lisogorskaya and Kaye Song are architects, artists and partners of 'Assemble', an award-winning London-based organisation who design and make buildings, artworks, gardens, playgrounds, furniture, exhibitions and events. Assemble uses design as a tool to respond to the environmental, social and economic challenges we face today. They believe that built examples along with critical reflection are the most effective means to have a positive impact.

Maria is a co-founding partner at Assemble and an active Academician on behalf of the studio at the Royal Academy of Arts, alongside a developing fresco painting practice. With Assemble, she initiated and designed a range of projects and held international visiting professorships. Kaye joined the collective in 2020 and has been developing the practices portfolio of workspace projects, as well as practicing as a landscape photographer and facilitating events that engage communities with the building process with Flimsy Works. Among their current Assemble projects is the refurbishment of an ex-textile factory in Treviso, a campsite in Japan and affordable artists studios across the UK.

Baukreisel is an interdisciplinary group of architects, engineers, political and social scientists, economists, and lawyers. Its main focus is on the reuse of material in the building industry. Baukreisel started out as advocates for discarded materials, showing how high-quality materials can be reused from what the building industry considers to be waste. Their projects take into account the entire building process, from dismantling to processing, transforming, designing and reinstalling, ensuring the viability of reuse.

Anna Pomazanna is an architect and educator. After completing her Master’s at TU Berlin, she worked as project architect and competition team leader at Kleihues+Kleihues in Berlin. In 2022, she returned to Ukraine to teach at the Kharkiv School of Architecture, where she developed a course on architectural typologies. Her work focuses on biobased materials, particularly earth construction in the context of Ukraine’s recovery. She is a co-founder of the NGO Materia Lab.

Mykhailo Shevchenko is an architect, product designer and educator. Since 2018, his work has focused on material research, circular design and open-source practices. He teaches at the Kharkiv School of Architecture and leads the annual ‘First Aid Spatial Kit’ workshop. In 2023, he became Head of the Office for Shaping the Built Environment at the Department of Architecture and Spatial Development of the Lviv City Council. He is a co-founder of Materia Lab, an NGO focused on circular practices, local materials, reuse and recycling.