Dwelling in the landscape

This personal contribution, necessarily partial, aims to investigate the relationship between architecture and landscape, adopting as interpretive keys the reflections of Christian Norberg‑Schulz, Arturo Carlo Quintavalle and Gilles Clément, in dialogue with the concept of frugal abundance developed by Serge Latouche. From the idea of landscape as a construction of meaning and identity, to the role of architecture as mediation between nature and culture, and as a practice of interpretation and care of the territory.

In contemporary thought, the concept of landscape lies at the intersection of nature and culture, between perceptual experience and symbolic construction. It is not a mere backdrop to human action, but a complex system of relationships, meanings and memories. In this perspective, landscape becomes a form of knowledge, a device through which human beings recognise themselves in the world.

For Christian Norberg‑Schulz, landscape constitutes the ontological premise of dwelling. In “Genius Loci. Paesaggio, ambiente, architettura” (1979), he states that to dwell means to belong to a place, and that architecture is called to “make the meaning of the place visible”. In this phenomenological vision, landscape is not an object but an experiential horizon, an existential space in which human beings find identity and orientation. Architectural design, therefore, cannot be understood as a purely technical or aesthetic act, but as a gesture of interpretation and revelation: through built form, architecture expresses the character of the place, gives concrete shape to its meaning, and brings it forth into collective consciousness.

A related perspective can be found in Arturo Carlo Quintavalle, for whom landscape is not a natural given but a cultural and historical construction. In his studies on the representation of territory and the evolution of artistic gaze, Quintavalle describes landscape as “a form of looking”, that is, as the projection of a system of values and relationships that change over time. Landscape, thus understood, is an archive of memory, a palimpsest of material and immaterial signs reflecting the identity of a community. It does not merely represent nature; it interprets it, orders it, and translates it into culture.

In both authors, landscape emerges as a place of meaning, as an expression of the relationship between human beings and the world. Yet in the contemporary condition, marked by ecological crisis, urban expansion and loss of biodiversity, this relationship appears compromised. It is in this context that the reflection of Gilles Clément assumes decisive relevance. In “Manifesto del terzo paesaggio” (2004), Clément proposes a radically ecological vision of territory, identifying in the “third landscape” — that is, “the ensemble of places abandoned by human activity” — a space of freedom and biodiversity. These are residual areas, uncultivated lands, margins and urban interstices that escape logics of production and control.

The third landscape introduces an ecological and political perspective that calls for a new ethics of design, grounded in listening to what already exists and in recognising marginal areas as places of potential.

For Clément, the third landscape is a place of resistance and hope: in it, nature regains its autonomy, regenerating forms of life and balance that rationalist planning tends to suppress. Embracing the third landscape as a design paradigm means adopting an attitude of listening, of suspending control, of openness to the unexpected. Architecture, in this perspective, is no longer domination or imposition, but a practice of cohabitation: a way of dwelling in the world that acknowledges the value of the unplanned, the marginal, the temporary. Clément thus invites a new gaze upon territory, founded on care, respect for differences and attention to spontaneous processes that shape the life of places.

This vision resonates deeply with Norberg‑Schulz’s notion of genius loci: in both cases, design is called to interpret an order already inscribed in the landscape, to reveal rather than impose. Yet while Norberg‑Schulz moves within a phenomenological and symbolic dimension, Clément introduces an ecological and political dimension that shifts the focus from the human to the living. Architecture is therefore called to become an instrument of reconciliation between the forms of life and the forms of dwelling.

Within this theoretical framework, the concept of frugal abundance developed by Serge Latouche offers an additional element of reflection and method. In “La scommessa della decrescita” (2007), Latouche proposes overcoming the paradigm of unlimited growth, recognising ecological and material limits not as obstacles but as resources for a new form of prosperity. Frugal abundance, or “wealth in sobriety”, consists in privileging quality over quantity, the local over the global, durability over obsolescence.

Applied to architecture, this principle translates into a design culture grounded in measure, reuse and relationship. The architecture of frugality does not renounce beauty; rather, it roots beauty in sustainability and continuity with the landscape. It is an approach that invites designing with what already exists, enhancing the material and immaterial heritage of places, reducing waste, respecting the natural cycles of resources. In this sense, frugality is not deprivation but creative responsibility: the ability to draw value from limits, to transform constraint into an aesthetic and ethical resource.

Architectural design, thus understood, takes on the character of a mediating practice. Between nature and artefact, between memory and innovation, between necessity and desire, architecture can become an instrument for interpreting the landscape and, at the same time, regenerating its meaning. Latouche’s frugal abundance therefore connects with Clément’s vision: both suggest an ethics of limit, an idea of sustainability that does not reduce itself to mere energy efficiency or technical control, but concerns the quality of the relationship between human beings and the world.

In this perspective, landscape is no longer a static given but a dynamic process that architecture must be able to read and accompany. As Clément (2004) emphasises, “the planetary garden” is a living organism, in motion, in which every intervention must respect the rhythms and forms of life. Can architecture enter into this logic, abandoning the idea of absolute permanence in favour of reversibility, adaptability and co‑evolution?

In methodological terms, this implies a revision of design practices. Design becomes listening and translation rather than imposition and top‑down drawing. Every site, every context, possesses a set of material, ecological and symbolic potentials that the designer is called to recognise and enhance. In this sense, landscape is a design matrix, a living interlocutor, not an inert scenography.

I believe that the contemporary challenge lies in constructing a new balance between architecture and landscape, between culture and nature. Such balance does not rest on the negation of technique but on its rethinking: technology becomes an instrument of equilibrium, not domination; a means of care, not control. The culture of frugal abundance, combined with the principle of the third landscape, proposes an alternative paradigm to the logic of infinite growth, capable of combining sobriety and creativity, limit and invention.

The contributions of Norberg‑Schulz, Quintavalle, Clément and Latouche allow us to outline a shared horizon: landscape as a place of dwelling, memory, biodiversity and measure. Architecture, embracing the principle of frugal abundance and the sensitivity of the third landscape, can be configured as an ethical practice of limit, grounded in responsibility and care. Designing within the landscape thus means dwelling poetically in the world — according to the celebrated Heideggerian formula recalled by Norberg‑Schulz — but with the awareness that dwelling today also implies guarding, limiting, restoring.

In an age marked by environmental and social crises, this perspective invites us to rethink the role of architecture as an instrument of balance and continuity. Architecture that arises from listening to the landscape and from the measure of resources becomes an act of responsibility toward the present and toward the future.

Bibliography

Gilles Clément, Manifesto del Terzo Paesaggio, Quodlibet, Macerata, 2004.

Martin Heidegger, Costruire abitare pensare, Mursia, Milano, 1976 (original essay 1951).

Serge Latouche, La scommessa della decrescita, Feltrinelli, Torino, 2007.

Christian Norberg-Schulz, Genius Loci. Paesaggio, ambiente, architettura, Electa, Milano, 1979.

Arturo Carlo Quintavalle, Paesaggio e rappresentazione, Skira, Parma, 2007.

Aldo Rossi, L’architettura della città, Marsilio, Padova, 1966.

Peter Zumthor, Atmosfere. Architettura come esperienza sensoriale, Electa, Milano, 2006.

October 2025

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