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SAMPLING ARCHITECTS

Liene Jākobsone and Manten Devriendt, principals at Sampling Architects
in conversation with PFAALL Magazine.

Augustine´s Garden, 2025. Photo © Madara Kuplā

Conceptual Foundations:

We draw inspiration from all kinds of creative expressions — both professional and vernacular. We learn by observing, by traveling, and by paying attention to how people live in different places, how they shape and adapt their surroundings, and how these environments differ from what we know ourselves.

When we take on an architectural commission, we approach it as a research question. We tend to dig deeper than the brief strictly requires. After designing a brewery, for instance, where the brewing process became the structural and spatial core of the building, we could speak just as confidently about fermentation cycles as about construction details.

Our work spans many formats — buildings, exhibitions, research projects, spatial interventions — and each one shifts our perspective. A research project on agroecological urbanism, for example, changed the way we understand cities and land stewardship, influenced by knowledge from agronomy, sociology, history, geography, and indigenous practices. Likewise, participating in design-led cultural events such as Fuorisalone in Milan, or curating and producing exhibitions, continually exposes us to new creative communities and ways of thinking, which inevitably shape our practice.

These experiences accumulate and merge into a way of seeing — a worldview that informs how we work and think. Because of this, it’s hard for us to isolate one clear source of influence.

We rarely attach our projects to a single philosophical narrative or a defined theoretical reference, as this can risk subordinating architecture to external frameworks. Instead, we try to remain open, responsive, and interdisciplinary, while strengthening architecture as an independent field of knowledge — one that listens, interprets, and contributes.

Augustine´s Garden, 2025. Photo © Madara Kuplā

Augustine´s Garden, 2025. Photo © Madara Kuplā

Influences:

In terms of references, it is difficult to single out one architect or artist—or even a group—as the influence is cumulative. Western architectural and artistic history remains for us an inexhaustible source of influence from which we draw continuously, consciously or not.
Contemporary practices are equally important, but as a kind of distributed peer community: people whose work resonates with ours, and with whom we feel aligned in the pursuit of a more reflective, critical practice that, bit by bit, reorients the discipline.

Some names return more frequently in our internal conversations than others. Rem Koolhaas, for example, and many of those who emerged from the early OMA years and later founded offices of influence. Gordon Matta-Clark is another persistent reference: his radical cuts and spatial incisions reveal the city as something to question, dissect, reconfigure. His work resonates with our own approach, which can be described as collage, assemblage and ultimately sampling—also the name of our office.
We apply these logics, originating in art and music, to architecture both metaphorically and physically. We work with what is there, transform rather than erase, and build new meaning from fragments.

Approach to materials:

Our approach to materials has evolved through continuous learning and by broadening the range of materials we work with. In recent years, sustainability has become an increasingly important concern; though given the relatively small scale of many of our projects, material choice alone cannot be the key driver of environmental impact. What has remained constant, however, is our intention to work with as little material as possible and to use it honestly. We tend to avoid cladding as a purely decorative solution, preferring instead to allow structure and substance to speak for themselves.

Question proposed by Eduardo Mediero:
When buildings age, adapt, or are repurposed once their first inhabitants/users move on:

We aim to bring each building to a specific architectural condition — the moment that communicates our architectural intention most clearly. Then we document this state photographically, not because we expect it to remain unchanged, but because it represents the version of the building that best expresses our thinking.
This documentation is important for us, because once a building is handed over, it naturally continues to evolve through use and adaptation. People change spaces to suit their needs, and although this may shift the original design, it can also be a meaningful continuation of the project. For future professional alterations — either by ourselves or by other architects — we try to build in flexibility from the start.

In our brewery project, for example, we removed intermediate floors to create spatial openness, but preserved the wooden structural beams so that the floor could be reinstated later with far less effort and cost. The intervention was therefore intentionally reversible. Designing for adaptability, using minimal material, and avoiding irreversible decisions are key strategies through which we address sustainability in our work.

Question proposed by Guillermo Dürig:
How do you manage to stay conceptually clear and radical?

The question of originality versus repetitiveness, in our opinion, depends on what is repeated and why. If an architect keeps repeating the same kind of project — even if good — without growing intellectually or professionally, it simply becomes boring and at some point outdated. However, we believe that having a set of ideas, principles, and questions that are cultivated and re-examined across different commissions is what gives a practice identity.

In that sense, we are consciously self-referential: like to explore certain ideas across projects and maintain a line of continuity and intellectual growth within our work.
At the same time, each project comes with its own context and specific conditions — meaning that even if our conceptual trajectory continues, the architectural result is always different.

If a client approached us with the expectation to replicate something we had already done, we would refuse. Our motivation lies in searching for new expressions of architecture, driven by curiosity and by the ambition to contribute to the development of the discipline.

Brewery Manufaktūra, 2022. Photo © Madara Kuplā

Brewery Manufaktūra, 2022. Photo © Madara Kuplā

Brewery Manufaktūra, 2022. Photo © Madara Kuplā

Brewery Manufaktūra, 2022. Photo © Madara Kuplā

Position on Global Crises:

We are concerned with the way our world currently (mal)functions and this inevitably translates into our architecture. We feel a responsibility to contribute positively wherever we can, even if we are under no illusion that architecture alone will ‘save the world’. We also do not approach sustainability dogmatically: we do not exclude certain materials on ideological grounds, nor make absolute gestures. Rather, we try to think holistically about architecture and the wider building industry.

Alongside ecological aspects, social concerns play a significant role in our work. In co-housing projects such as Augustine’s Garden, we deliberately design spatial configurations that foster belonging and strengthen community life. We also actively promote sustainable mobility by limiting car parking — often contrary to normative requirements and client expectations. In public spaces, we consider how architecture can support gender equality through seemingly simple gestures, such as gender-neutral sanitary facilities where men can also care for children.

We critically question accessibility standards that tend to isolate disabled rather than include, or impose aesthetic compromises that diminish spatial quality. These challenges are, to us, opportunities — moments where architecture can tangibly improve someone’s daily life.

We are equally concerned about geopolitical tensions. The Latvian Pavilion we curated for the 2025 Venice Architecture Biennale addressed the militarisation of the Eastern European border in response to escalating threat of aggression. We were often asked what such a topic has to do with architecture. For us, the Biennale offered a platform to expose how global tensions materialise spatially — shaping landscapes, infrastructures, daily routines, and even non-human ecologies. While we cannot directly intervene in such processes through conventional commissions, architecture can make visible what is otherwise overlooked, activating public awareness and discourse.

House 61 , 2020. Photo © Madara Kuplā

Architecture and Activism:

Activism can be understood in many ways, and there is no precise point at which an art or design work becomes “activist” in its impact. In our practice, however, we actively seek to influence how people live, work, interact, commute, and how they understand the world. We try to draw attention to what is overlooked, reveal problems that have gone unnoticed, and demonstrate how quality of life improves when they are addressed through design. Whether this should be called activism or simply professional responsibility is open to interpretation — yet for us, creative disciplines such as art, design and architecture are, by their nature, inclined toward activism.
Our involvement, however, does not stop at design.

We are well aware that architectural design alone limits the scale of our impact, so we extend our efforts into education — through teaching and research — and into the public sphere. We initiate lectures, debates and professional exchange events, and we frequently speak publicly ourselves. All of this allows us to be involved in shaping discourse, raising awareness and contributing to cultural and societal change.

Addressing global issues in-practice:

We are convinced that architects not only can but should engage with the major challenges of our time. Yet for us, this is not a matter of either–or. One can design a private house and simultaneously contribute to social, ecological or political questions through other forms of practice. These modes of engagement can—and in our case, do—coexist.

Liene’s doctoral research explored critical design practices and examined how they can support a transition towards sustainability, connecting what is often seen as an artistic activity that doesn’t solve any real problems with design in pursuit of systemic change. Likewise, in our own architectural practice, we operate across multiple modes of thinking and making—built work, exhibitions, research, teaching, public engagement. This variety keeps us grounded in the material and social realities of architecture, while also allowing us to challenge them, rethink them, and propose alternatives.

Ethical Dilemmas

If a situation turns into an ethical dilemma, we would rather step away from the project. However, there are many cases where clients expect us to design in a way we cannot align with. Most often, this tension arises when we want to realise something we strongly believe in, but the client finds it socially or aesthetically unconventional. It is incredible how difficult it is to change habits and assumptions. This negotiation is easier when the client is also the future user, but in commercial projects — where financial return is central — it often becomes a struggle, as developers tend to fear change and hesitate to offer something that deviates from mainstream expectations.

Another type of dilemma emerges when the execution of a project does not unfold as intended, despite our efforts. These situations are extremely difficult — on one hand, we want to defend the qualities we envisioned, yet on the other hand we realise that the compromise required might be too great. In such cases, we would not want the result to be identified as the work of Sampling.

Decolonizing Design

The ongoing decolonisation of thought is a necessary yet highly complex process. From our own experience, we have learned that it is rarely as straightforward as the coloniser needing to respect the colonised or the other. In today’s globalised world, cultural exchange is constant, and the roles are often entangled and unclear.

For many years we worked in Latvia, which—despite more than 30 years of independence and over 20 years of EU membership—is still frequently reduced to the category of the former socialist bloc. The term itself reproduces a colonial view of the region. In international projects, both architectural and research-based, we have more than once encountered a subtle colonial attitude, surprisingly coming from people who would otherwise consider themselves progressive, open-minded and inclusive.

At the same time, because we ourselves form an international collaboration (Liene being Latvian and Manten Belgian), cultural diversity is part of our everyday practice. It often returns in discussions with clients who claim that certain design decisions are not suitable for “local culture”, habits or traditions. For example, we frequently hear that Latvians supposedly dislike bright colours, do not enjoy socialising or sharing, and therefore require more private space. At this moment one could easily assume that we, as an international office, are imposing Western ideas and ignoring local identity. But on the other hand—aren’t such statements themselves the result of pre-established narratives and ideologies that limit imagination and prevent cultural development?

Seen from the standpoint of a “local” architect, it is discouraging to realise that these biases are often reproduced by the culture itself. In new contexts, we would therefore be cautious not to reinforce local patterns merely out of fear of appearing colonial. Context should never be used as a constraint that prevents evolution. Sometimes, introducing new ideas could actually serve the community better than preserving the stereotype of what is considered culturally appropriate.

House 61 , 2020. Photo © Madara Kuplā

Pavillion, 2024. Photo © Reinis Hofmanis

Predictability and Research

The concept is for us the core idea that guides a project from the first sketch to its completion. It is not meant as a constraint, but as a logical anchor — a clear answer to the question why this building and not another? At the same time, a concept cannot be dogma.

Throughout the process we must remain critical and willing to adapt. When new insights emerge that weaken or enrich the initial premise, the project must be able to shift accordingly. This means staying open-ended while remaining conceptually coherent and meaningful.
Assessing impact on people and the environment is always central in our work, but we are aware that such evaluations remain hypothetical until the architecture is inhabited and embedded in its context.

Like all design, architecture does not function as an exact science — we do not prove hypotheses, we propose futures. As Herbert Simon proposes in his The Sciences of the Artificial (1968), design seeks solutions that are sufficiently good, never definitively the best, because all possible solutions can never be verified.

Landscape of Defence, 2025. Photo © Michiel De Cleene

Landscape of Defence, 2025. Photo © Michiel De Cleene

Landscape of Defence, 2025. Photo © Michiel De Cleene

Landscape of Defence, 2025. Photo © Michiel De Cleene

Architecture in 2050

Architecture is undoubtedly a discipline capable of contributing positively to urgent global challenges such as climate change, resource scarcity and social inequality. The question, however, is whether architects will be listened to. What we observe is a long-term, gradual decrease of the architect’s authority within society. Instead of being recognised as intellectual figures able to engage with complex issues, architects are increasingly perceived as service providers who simply respond to a client’s brief while navigating ever-stricter regulations.
We hope that this tendency can shift, and that the architect’s voice regains its relevance and agency in shaping a more sustainable and equitable future.

Questions We Wish People Asked More Often

“Should architects take risks – and if so, what risks are you taking or would you be willing to take?”

Liene Jākobsone and Manten Devriendt, principals at Sampling Architects
in conversation with PFAALL Magazine.

2025 PFAALL MAGAZINE. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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