Operating under the moniker OfficeLifting, architects at Berlin-based practice raumteam:92 are responding to that infamous “efficient” German stereotype in kind.

Since the 1990s Germany’s capital city has undergone a structural renovation the likes of which no other European city has seen since the end of World War Two. Berlin’s buildings have received enviable architectural treatment at the hands of international talent (in 1999 Sir Norman Foster had converted the former Reichstag into the new German Parliament; it’s glass cupola has since been hailed the “hallmark” of the city) and via more indigenous means.

Stephan Braunfels, Axel Schultes and Charlotte Frank, Von Gerkan Marg and Partners, Hans Kollhoff, Josef Paul Kleihues and now raumteam:92 – the subject of this story – have each left a mark on the “new look” Berlin and, arguably, as inhabitants of the city these architects have proved best placed to reshape their home.

There is a reason for this: like Germans on the whole, Berliners are internationally renowned for their skills in engineering and design. But unlike their countrymen, Berlin’s avant-garde have had reason to safeguard their city’s identity more than most. In the wake of the collapse of the Berlin Wall in 1989, the city’s occupants began a salvage mission; they set about regaining a collective sense of identity. It’s had a profound affect on all Berliners’ ways of working, but raumteam:92 has perhaps epitomised the approach with its innovative form of interior architecture, OfficeLifting.

Angelika Zwingel, a project leader at raumteam:92, says the firm coined the phrase to describe its bit-part approach to interior architecture (“you could call it interior design, but we think that’s too generic a term”), a self-styled “integrative design strategy which, with careful means, is aimed simultaneously at designing the spatial company identity and at structural improvements in the actual work environment”. The term was borrowed from the practice of plastic surgery, as recipients of such treatment receive a nip here and a tuck there – just enough to revive weary elements, but not a whole new face.
But OfficeLifting is about much more than just semantics. A fundamental aspect of the approach is the use of design to harmonise the formulation of external company branding with internal authenticity – bearing great resemblance to the citywide effort to secure a new identity for Berliners without losing any more of the old one.

“During my time in England and the States I encountered a much more developed awareness towards the intrinsic qualities of an intentionally formed space (as opposed to mere ‘hip design’),” says Zwingel, “and there was a greater openness there to provide a reasonable budget to achieve it. Berlin is a great place to watch all sorts of recycling, tuning and the recharching of spaces and objects on a highly individual level, but in the end it all comes down to money and Berlin, or perhaps Germany in general, has certainly not been a place where money was found on the streets and available to spend easily.”

Thankfully, expense isn’t an issue when it comes to OfficeLifting. All improvements are bespoke and tailored to budget, and despite the outlay being joyfully inexpensive, it’s clear from raumteam:92’s past projects that the results clients can expect are quite outstanding.

In the case of Schröder+Schömbs, a public relations company based in Berlin Mitte, utilising textile partitions enabled the firm flexibility in terms of spatial division. The makeshift walls play confidently with the building’s depth and lighting conditions too, offering a sense of identity to a design that had previously been defined by clutter.

Likewise, at Zucker PR, also located in Berlin Mitte, working with a budget Zwingel describes as “minute” proved inspiration on the project rather than the hindrance it might typically have been. The team enjoyed much success through the simple and subtle implementation of plants; the architects hung flower boxes with the help of a carpenter, and stencilled plant-like visuals on the walls, which wove an energising green thread through the Zucker office to “revitalise” its staff.

“It is probably not surprising that the two OfficeLiftings we think have been most exceptional were designed for PR agencies,” says Zwingel. “The best clients we’ve worked with have understood the influence of a carefully conceived finish and did not hesitate to invest in thought rather than shiny surfaces. Working with people who are open to experimenting with their space in order to find a strong theme is fundamental in achieving more than a pretty arrangement of elements.”

It’s not the first time during our interview that Zwingel has sworn by the benefits of client interaction. She is quick to stress the importance of input from employees too, even citing examples where OfficeLifting projects had failed due to a lack of input from those sources. “We have had projects that didn’t work because we felt that we weren’t able to really incorporate the ideas of the employees,” says Zwingel. “This was either because there weren’t many or the client would tell us what he or she thought employees needed, but that doesn’t work because the client has different needs to the employee. It can be hard work convincing the client that it’s important for us to talk to their employees.” But judging by the results, this collaborative approach has proved invaluable.

Ever walked down a street and completely missed the place you were looking for? There’s certainly no danger of that at 55 Baker St, the former headquarters of Marks and Spencer that’s been given an overhaul by London-based practice Make Architects. And you can see the results, if not quite a mile off, then certainly well before you present yourself at its eye-catching entrance.

“You never look at a building from the front – unless it’s Buckingham Palace,” quips Ian Lomas, project architect with Make. “You generally approach a building from the side, so this project is about how the building is experienced from there.”

Working together with artist Jason Bruges, Make has realised a facade that simultaneously grabs the attention of passers-by – appearing to extend far out over the street – and yet has kept within planning guidelines so as not to impose on the streetscape. Three glass infills, which Lomas refers to as masks, span the voids between the existing blocks, with a central section enclosing a seven-storey atrium.

“The idea was, rather than a flat screen, to have these folding forms. Like at a railway station or a greenhouse, these slatted glass fins provide a temperate environment where people can be. The light dapples like when you’re under a tree.”

Bruges’ studio developed bespoke narrow-beam LEDs to achieve the large arrays of light that project onto the steel structure of the facade, reflecting the changing moods of the building from day through to night. Lomas compares this altering of mood and identity to Tudor paintings he saw in the National Portrait Gallery, which take on a different expression when viewed obliquely.

This part of the project was designed to be an example of how public art can be used to upgrade the greater visual environment. Meanwhile abstract bronze lions act as guardians to the place.

“It is very much a civic gesture,” Lomas explains. “On a purely functional level the facade is not needed: we could have had something that is much more workaday. It was about giving something back to the community, the way buildings used to.”

Despite this claim that practicality was not the primary objective, Lomas also points out that the way the structure is configured uses 30 per cent less steel. “Not only is it more efficient, but it looks better as well!”

Once inside, one of the most noticeable elements is the transfer structure, composed of solid steel and manufactured by bridge builders, which is designed to resemble a series of dancers. Together with the Trojan horse-like reception desk, this creates a striking art gallery-style appeal. And rightly so for such a vast reception space. Make worked with furniture producers Benchmark on the 16m-long structure known as the Stealth desk.
Benchmark designer Steven Owens says, “The brief was to elevate a drawing showing this triangle shape. I took that on and they gave us freedom to achieve this piece in timber.”

The timber is London Plane, which grows in the parks of the capital and was deliberately chosen for its reference to the geographical location. In addition, explains Owens, “It has quite an interesting colour and structure that we felt was needed here. We wanted something with a strong defining grain to give the piece some interest.”

Although there is room for up to a dozen receptionists at a time, Make and Benchmark were keen that when not in use, the desk provided a piece of sculpture for the space. To this end, a propulsion system was developed with Isis to tidy away things like the keyboards, monitors and mice. “From our point of view,” Owens continues, “this building has such a strong impression that having clean lines was one of the key factors. Quite often reception desks get covered in IT mess, but here, at the touch of a button, it all disappears, James Bond style.”

Make also designed some wool-upholstered chairs for the reception space with manufacturer Davison Highley, which add a softer element to the interior design.

The 1950s office building has undergone a series of additions, such as lifts and staircases, to the point that Make decided the best thing to do would be to take the building back to the concrete frame. On the ground floor, it has included space for retail units, cafes and restaurants to serve both the building’s occupants and local residents and pedestrians. There is also a new development of 23 houses, offering a mix of key worker and private accommodation, at the rear of the building.

The triangular shape Owens mentions, which has been achieved on the solid timber front panel of the desk, is echoed in many facets of the building, from the metal panels on the inside of the lift to pull handles and the windows of the doors as you enter each floor. Lomas describes this as a vague visual language rather than a one-size-fits-all approach to the entire project. “Everywhere you go,” he adds, “you know you’re in this building and you get the sense
of identity.”