Michael Jakob
On Cardada
In selecting Paolo Bürgi’s Cardada project, we seek to examine his work through the lens of a central aesthetic criterion: polysemy. In aesthetic theory, polysemy refers to the simple yet fundamental fact that neither individual elements – such as a word or a painted object – nor the artwork as a whole can ever be reduced to a single meaning. Operating as layered systems, both the constituent elements of an artwork and, a fortiori, the artwork in its entirety carry multiple, coexisting meanings.
Cardada is a relatively modest Alpine infrastructure located in Ticino, Switzerland, in the mountainous area surrounding the city of Locarno. Its principal components consist of a cable car connecting Orselina–Madonna del Sasso to Cardada (1,340 m a.s.l.) and a chairlift continuing from Cardada to Cimetta (1,670 m a.s.l.).
During the final decades of the twentieth century, the Cardada and Cimetta huts were incorporated into a more sophisticated system: the cable car cabins were redesigned by Mario Botta, and several new elements were introduced. It was within this broader transformation that Paolo Bürgi turned what might otherwise have been a banal or generic task – one replicated in countless mountain sites worldwide – into something distinctive.
These three elements form a quasi-musical score. The first movement is associated with the aesthetics of the sublime, as visitors are overwhelmed by the panoramic view offered by a structure of titanium and steel. The second movement – somewhere between lento and adagio– unfolds within the forest and is more intimate and meditative. The third and final movement, at once pedagogical and ecstatic, brings the entire system to its zenith.
Given the complexity of Cardada, we must focus on its crowning achievement: the observatory. Here, the landscape architect reached a culminating point by introducing an element that some critics found provocative – a massive concrete platform. While many perceive concrete as an alien, industrial intrusion, it is, in fact, a material born of the earth. Composed of natural elements like sand, limestone, and gravel, concrete can be interpreted as a local, almost indigenous material. On this platform, the concrete is reinforced not only for structural integrity but as a deliberate aesthetic choice to harmonize with the rugged terrain.
For a scholar as refined as Bürgi, the influence of Dieter Kienast’s “poor” yet expressive materiality, or the masterful concrete works of his Ticinese fellowman Rino Tami, surely served as more than mere precedents. Perceiving this concrete disk as it seemingly floats within the Alpine landscape, one notices the precise point where the composite stone meets the living rock. This threshold – where the erratic, ancient forms of the mountain encounter the geometry of the platform – creates an oxymoric tension between the found and the constructed. Every time concrete is introduced into the landscape, it evokes a lineage of seminal works, such as the Parc des Buttes-Chaumont in Paris, where concrete served as the “magical” modern foundation for an entire simulated nature.
While paying homage to this tradition, Bürgi simultaneously subverts it. His platform achieves a rare paradox: it is physically massive yet visually weightless, appearing to float effortlessly in the void. Standing upon it, the visitor experiences a sense of elevation that borders on flight. While the Alps – and mountain ranges worldwide – are cluttered with banal, poorly executed viewpoints, the platform at Cimetta (literally the small peak) stands apart as a masterwork of sophisticated design. It defies simple categorization: it is a work of architecture, a monumental sculpture, a landmark in the tradition of Land Art, and a precision-engineered viewing machine. While the Titanium bridge – the first threshold of the Cardada experience – offers a focused 180° panorama, this final observatory grants a full 360° perspective.
This physical involvement evokes a nearby historical landmark: the famed Monte Verità above Ascona. In the early 20th century, this “Mountain of Truth” became an open-air laboratory for artists and intellectuals seeking a radical dialogue with nature – a precursor to the counter-cultures of the 1960s. While Cardada does not demand such extreme lifestyle shifts, it shares that same spirit of exploration. By standing on this precise point in the heart of the Alps, the visitor is invited to live with the landscape rather than just observe it. In this sense, Bürgi’s platform transcends its function as a viewpoint; it becomes a space to rediscover something essential about our being-in-the-world.
In analysing Bürgi’s project, one feels that this exploration could continue indefinitely. While I have undoubtedly overlooked certain layers that were vital to the author, I have chosen to privilege a personal reading – one sparked by the site itself and its components. The reflections presented here are a testament to the theory of the association of ideas: they demonstrate that the true source of intellectual inquiry lies within the project itself. Cardada is not merely a destination; it is a catalyst for thought, proving that when (landscape) architecture is executed with such depth, it ceases to be a static reality and becomes an endless dialogue between the object and the mind.
His recent publications in Italian include the following essays: L’architettura del paesaggio (2020); La capanna di Unabomber (2020); La finta montagna (2022); Le origini tecnologiche del paesaggio (2022); Rara Herbaria (2023); and the novel La scomparsa di Leda (2024). For the Accademia dei Lincei, Palazzo Corsini (Rome), and the Morgan Library (New York) he curated the exhibition “Rara Herbaria” / “Seeds of Knowledge”.
He is also the author and producer of documentary films, the most recent of which is Arduino Cantafora. Il tempo sospeso (2026). He is currently working on a diachronic study of the perception “di sotto in su” (from below upwards), which follows the volume Leçons de vertige (2024), soon to be published in Italy as well.