Context
In 2016, I participated in a tactical design-build workshop in Plzen, organized by the local NGO Pestuj prostor (Cultivate Space). The initiative was sparked by a resident of the Kosutka housing estate who sought help revitalizing a neglected, desolate public square in front of the local 4th Elementary School. To tackle the challenge, a wider collaborative group of architecture students, local residents, and organizers was formed to design and physically build a set of urban interventions.
Division of Labor and a Shoestring Budget
The overall site strategy was divided into two distinct structures, developed by two separate teams. While another group of students focused on a serpentine bench made of repurposed pallets (locally dubbed "the snake"), my team was responsible for the primary gathering feature: a large, multi-level wooden deck.
During the design phase, our core team consisted of just three people: my classmate Kristyna Pscolkova, a landscape architecture student, and myself. When it came time to build, the landscape student was replaced by a dedicated local volunteer, keeping our core construction crew at three. From the outset, the project was defined by extreme financial constraints—our total material budget was strictly capped at a few thousand euros. Every design decision had to be hyper-efficient.
Two Phases, Both on Site
For us, the project unfolded in two grueling but deeply rewarding phases. The design phase felt like a working camp: sleeping on the floor of a local school, drafting during the day, and iterating to find a scheme that the residents, the school administration, and the city could all support.
The build phase was even more intense. We slept on a couch and the floor of a tiny office, spending essentially all our waking hours on the construction site from early morning until late evening. After finishing the blueprints, we picked up the tools and built the wooden deck ourselves, supported occasionally by school children, city technical services, and the workshop organizers.
A Polite Disagreement on Urban Theory
One key detail of the design was contested before we even broke ground. The headmistress of the elementary school asked us not to build anything that could be sat or lain on. Her concern was rooted in the site's history: she feared that comfortable street furniture would attract the homeless, drug users, and alcoholics who occasionally frequented the area.
We argued the exact opposite based on urban design principles. We explained that what had been attracting negative activity was precisely the neglect and abandonment of the space. A well-designed, well-maintained, and actively used public place tends to naturally attract its rightful users—families, children, and neighbors—which in turn organically pushes out illicit behavior. We pushed back politely but firmly, and managed to keep the gathering deck in the final design.
The Reward
Our urban theory was validated at the first community picnic in the summer of 2016. Watching local families flood the space we had drawn and built—children running across our wooden deck, neighbors relaxing, with absolutely no trouble or anti-social behavior in sight—was a profound moment. It was the first time I felt the specific reward of seeing a piece of architecture actively lived in, rather than just rendered on a screen.
Reflection
The deck and the snake were used and loved by the neighborhood for several years. Although they were eventually removed in 2019 by order of the district administration (a separate political story best told by those still in Plzen at the time), the lessons I took away remain permanent.
I learned that public space gets the users it deserves: neglect attracts neglect, while care attracts care. I learned how to manage material efficiency on a microscopic budget. Most importantly, I learned that on a design-build project, the line between architect and builder dissolves instantly, and you learn far more in the sawdust and dirt than you ever could at a desk.
