Since the start of the COVID-19 lockdown in spring 2020, I cycled daily to the nearby city forest, observing how families spent their newfound free time. With playgrounds closed, parks became vibrant hubs of activity. I was particularly captivated by tipi-like structures children built with their parents—simple, archaic forms made by stacking branches vertically or leaning them against trees. These creations dotted the forest, enriching its natural “architectural language.” Over nearly two months, I documented this process using a mobile GPS application, marking about 120 such structures in just one part of the Cologne city forest. As a result, a hidden “urbanistic” pattern emerged within the park’s layout. What I found particularly intriguing was the collective nature of these “settlements.” What one family built was often expanded or restructured by other children and families. The branches were frequently “recycled,” reappearing in new tipi shapes and formations throughout the area. This example of ephemeral forest “pop-up urbanism” is not only a fascinating context-specific phenomenon but also a metaphor. Every crisis creates new forms. Can we view crises not only as threats to existing systems and customs but also as opportunities? Can seemingly unstable structures and systems can lead to architectures that are more stable and resilient?
In a later phase, this research inspired the work A Family Tree or the Absent Houses.
tonka malekovic 