How does a Mediterranean architect „survive“ on beaches that have nothing in common with the Aegean Sea? A summer encounter with the Baltic Sea.
The good – or the bad – thing about architects is that we always think in terms of space. Even when we are on holiday, standing on beaches that are far away from what has come to define the idea of a „Greek summer.“
On the Baltic coast, the landscape has nothing of the blinding light and turquoise-blue waters of the Aegean. And yet, architectural thinking helps you find a sense of familiarity within this different context. Baltic beaches – endless strips of sand stretching from the Danish border all the way to Poland, running along the entire coastline of the former East Germany – are defined by two elements: the Dünen, those natural sand dunes shaped over time, and the particular northern atmosphere.
The Dünen act both as a boundary and as a passage. They separate the beach from the villages behind, guiding you through narrow paths to reach the sea. This short walk becomes a small ritual: you leave behind the village and your everyday life, to stand before the open horizon.
And then the experience becomes not only visual but also physical: the sand here is fine, soft, and grey-beige in color. Walking barefoot, you immediately feel the difference from the hot Mediterranean sand, where you can hardly stand for long. This grey-beige tone is anything but sad; on the contrary, it creates a calming sensation that perfectly matches the northern landscape.
Here, the weather rarely invites sunbathing, splashing or beach bars. The relationship with the sea becomes then different than that in the Mediterranean: slower, more contemplative, more observant. The minimalist landscape and the horizon’s quiet presence create an experience where, as the philosopher Georg Simmel once wrote – and as the architect Aris Konstantinidis often reminded us – when you gaze outward, you begin to gaze inward.
The dim light and clouds, the grey-beige sand, the wind moving through the Dünen, the prevailing calm – all these invite you to stand still and look. This northern mood has been deeply imprinted in the art and literature of the North – from Romantic painters like Caspar David Friedrich to Thomas Mann and contemporary photography.