Konstantin Ikonomidis is a Swedish architect known for integrating architecture with art and scientific research, particularly in remote and climatically extreme settings. A graduate of the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts, School of Architecture in Copenhagen, Ikonomidis has gained recognition for his site-specific works that explore cultural narratives and ecological sensitivity. His most notable recent work is the Qaammat Pavilion in Sarfannguit, Greenland, a project commissioned by UNESCO and designed to honor the local Inuit heritage. This glass pavilion, constructed from Murano glass blocks and anchored to Greenland’s rocky terrain, interacts with the shifting Arctic light and seasons, embodying themes of cultural resilience and environmental adaptability.
Ikonomidis has also contributed to housing prototypes in Sub-Saharan Africa aimed at mitigating malaria through architectural solutions, and he is involved in sustainable bamboo housing projects in Tanzania. His work reflects a deep commitment to material innovation, as seen in his collaborative research on the structural behavior of glass in cold environments with specialists at TU Delft. Currently based between Greenland and Tanzania, Ikonomidis continues to push the boundaries of architecture by harmonizing traditional building practices with modern technological advancements.
What inspires you?
I find cultures that are new to me, especially in remote areas, incredibly inspiring. I’m fascinated by the diversity in how people live across different cultures and how social ecology shapes architecture. Seeing how architecture has evolved over generations, from building techniques to material choices, reveals the deep relationship between people and their environments. I’m equally intrigued by how everyday life and local objects contribute to shaping these spaces, creating environments that reflect both cultural values and ecological contexts.
What inspired you to become an architect?
I started with fine carpentry in secondary school, followed by a year in art school, so it felt like a natural progression to move into a field that still involved crafting, just on a different scale. I was torn between architecture and fine arts, so the Danish Academy, School of Architecture, appealed to me because of its artistic approach to architecture.
How would you describe your design philosophy?
I reflected a lot on this while developing the Qaammat Pavilion, and I would describe my design philosophy as being built on four key pillars: Culture, Environment, Location, and Construction. These pillars guided the process, ensuring that the design was culturally relevant, environmentally responsive, adapted to remote and challenging conditions, and innovative in its construction methods. By balancing these elements, I aim to create architecture that not only serves its function but also enhances the way we engage with both the place and its community. Each of these pillars played an equally important role in shaping the final outcome.
Part of my design theory is the belief that every project offers an opportunity to advance architectural innovation. This is achieved through rigorous research, material exploration, and adapting conceptual ideas to real-world conditions. At the Qaammat Pavilion, for example, I led research into the use of glass blocks and how to bond them effectively in the pavilion’s specific environmental conditions, developing construction solutions that responded to both the unique climate and cultural context. This also led to collaboration with specialists in each field.
What is your favorite project?
It’s hard to choose, but as a student, I was always fascinated by the work of Lebbeus Woods. His approach to deeply exploring specific solutions and engaging in thought experiments was very inspiring to me. One project that particularly stood out was The Wall Game. In this project, Woods used a section of a wall as a playing field where teams on opposing sides—representing different cultures or ideologies—had to construct cantilevered structures using the wall as support. The game symbolized the balance of power, where collaboration was necessary to keep the wall standing. The teams had to build in such a way that they didn’t destabilize the structure, ultimately turning a symbol of division into a platform for cooperation and mutual transformation.
What resonates with me is how Lebbeus Woods used architecture as a tool to engage two neighboring territories in conflict, divided by a wall, and turned them into collaborators. In this way, architecture is not just a physical structure but a medium for dialogue, cooperation, and resolution.
What is your favorite architectural detail?
The foundation—how a building meets the ground. It’s fascinating because this detail is where the structure interacts with the site, grounding the design both physically and conceptually. The foundation has to balance the technical challenges of stability and function while blending the building into its environment.
For example, in tropical regions with elevated houses on poles, foundations meet the earth in various ways: driven straight into the ground, dug into the earth, or placed on barriers to protect the timber from termites and water. Posts may rest on open coconuts, stones, or concrete points, each designed to create a protective barrier. In these cases, the critical meeting point between earth and architecture becomes an essential detail that balances longevity with a delicate integration into the natural environment.
In Greenland’s rocky terrains, foundations often use rock anchors, drilled directly into the terrain, with timber poles creating a gap between the building and the ground to protect the timber from water. The Qaammat Pavilion was built on these principles but incorporated custom solutions to adapt to the specific site.
In Tanzania, the red earth buildings have foundations and wall structures made from the same material. Here, the only distinction between the layers—earth, foundation, and wall—comes from the texture, which creates a subtle yet meaningful connection between the structure and its environment.
Do you have a favorite material?
Rather than having a single favorite material, I think of it more as a preferred approach to using each material. Each project and location brings its uniqueness, requiring study to determine how materials can be applied and what appearance they might take on. Lately, however, I’ve been particularly drawn to glass. It’s fascinating to explore its various forms and techniques. I’ve become especially interested in the manufacturing process—how small details, like the texture of a metal mold, can imprint a unique surface when glass is cast, and how it interacts with light, its surroundings, and even the changing seasons. Additionally, new technologies, such as 3D printing with recycled glass, open up even more possibilities for innovation.
What is your process for starting a new project?
That’s a good question. I usually begin with my notebook and a cup of coffee. In the early stages, I often find myself watching the clouds more than focusing on what I’m sketching, allowing my mind to relax so that ideas can emerge naturally. Once they start forming, I combine sketching with digital modeling to explore and develop the concept further.
How do you balance function and creativity in your designs, and how does the environment influence your work?
The environment plays a significant role in my work, and the Qaammat Pavilion is a great example of this. It’s playful, as the large variation in seasons can change the appearance of the pavilion, creating a dynamic interaction with its surroundings. However, I believe it’s equally important to incorporate cultural values into the design. Often, when we think of Greenland, we focus on the extreme conditions—temperatures reaching -40°C and the technical challenges that come with such an environment. Add to that the high construction costs, and it becomes clear that solving these technical issues is only part of the design process. For me, it’s about finding a balance where both the environment and the culture are equally represented. This is why I refer to them as Pillar 1 (Culture) and Pillar 2 (Environment) in my design theory—they must work hand in hand to create something that is not only functional but deeply rooted in the place and its people.
How do you collaborate with clients to achieve their vision?
To get a clear idea of what the clients would like, I adapt my approach based on how involved they want to be—some clients prefer to be hands-on, while others take a step back. For public projects, I like to engage with individuals from the community, not only to gather ideas but also to learn about the local culture. This helps me understand how cultural elements can be translated into the design, ensuring that the structure is both functional and reflective of the community’s identity.
What inspired Qaammat?
Several elements inspired the Qaammat Pavilion throughout its development, evolving through different phases. In the early stages, it was very much a conversation-based approach, engaging with individuals from the local community, the village chairman, the UNESCO site manager, and the Heritage team. I wanted to incorporate cultural elements, functionality, and the environment into the design.
The choice of glass as the main material allowed me to address several aspects at once. It could play with light and seasons, offering a dynamic visual impact, and create a connection with the surrounding environment. Glass, being both fragile and strong, mirrored the Arctic environment, with its extreme conditions yet subtle beauty. The play of light was central to the design—Qaammat means “moon” in Greenlandic, and I wanted the structure to reflect the changing Arctic light, much like how the moon reflects light, giving the pavilion a presence that evolves throughout the seasons.
From a cultural standpoint, in conversations with the UNESCO team, the extraordinary cairn “inussuk” system became a key reference. I wanted Qaammat to function as a contemporary “inussuk”—the stone cairns traditionally used as wayfinding markers—symbolizing the newly announced UNESCO heritage site and its historical significance.
How did materiality shape the design of Qaammat?
The texture of the glass blocks played an important role in shaping the design’s appearance. There are endless ways to use glass, and the manufacturing process plays a significant role. I particularly liked working with the Murano-based glass crafter WonderGlass. Their glass blocks are individually cast in metal molds. The metal molds imprint a texture on each block that reflects light in a unique way, giving a sense of transparency that was very appealing. These glass blocks became pieces of art themselves, influencing how the pavilion interacted with the surrounding environment.
What advice would you give to young architects?
Architecture touches many fields—art, technology, geography, etc.—so the first piece of advice I would give is to identify your own interests within the discipline. In my experience, as architects, we often have ideas or visions that remain stuck in our minds or on paper. The real challenge is figuring out how to bring those ideas to life. For example, as a newly graduated architect, you might not have a client waiting for you, but I encourage you to take the initiative and bring an idea to life on your own. Doing so will allow you to evaluate, reflect, and refine your concepts. Take the Floating Tea House (Fuan) by Kazuhiko Miyazawa as an example. It’s a simple yet powerful idea—a cloth hanging on a floating balloon—that was brought to life with minimal resources, but it’s conceptually and architecturally fascinating. My advice would be to start small, take action, and let your ideas evolve through experimentation.
