The Second Axis
The forest is a structure organized by verticality. Its layers, trunks, and the rhythm of light and shadow all follow an upward movement — the natural grammar of the place. From the ground, a person perceives the forest as a dense vertical field that sets the logic of space. The Second Axis introduces a horizontal coordinate into this order — a linear intervention woven into the forest’s structure. It is not an object but a behavior of architecture: a system that does not compete with nature but enters into a quiet, intellectual dialogue with it.
The walkway, almost 100 meters long, is lifted five meters above the ground. It does not aim to dominate the landscape and does not act as a conventional bridge. Instead, it becomes connective tissue moving in the rhythm of the trees. At this height, one sees the forest not from the outside but from within its own logic, recalibrating scale and perception. This shift in viewpoint becomes the project’s key spatial experience.
At the midpoint, the line contracts into a small treehouse raised slightly above the main path. The linear structure momentarily tightens into a coiled cocoon, forming a spatial pause — a place where direction gives way to observation.
The construction is intentionally exposed and legible, mirroring the way nature reveals its own processes. The Corten steel frame dissolves into the forest palette, while the horizontal larch railings emphasize movement and turn the walkway into a precise graphic line that follows its three-dimensional bends.
In parallel, the site’s biological structure has been restored: thousands of native perennials and shrubs were planted to revive the damaged phytocoenosis. Here, the forest is not a backdrop but a co-author; the project simply corrects what had been disrupted.
The Second Axis becomes a different way of seeing the forest — neither from above nor below, but inside its internal logic. It is a force line moving through the forest’s field of tensions: a structure that does not change the forest, but changes the order in which the forest is perceived.
The walkway, almost 100 meters long, is lifted five meters above the ground. It does not aim to dominate the landscape and does not act as a conventional bridge. Instead, it becomes connective tissue moving in the rhythm of the trees. At this height, one sees the forest not from the outside but from within its own logic, recalibrating scale and perception. This shift in viewpoint becomes the project’s key spatial experience.
At the midpoint, the line contracts into a small treehouse raised slightly above the main path. The linear structure momentarily tightens into a coiled cocoon, forming a spatial pause — a place where direction gives way to observation.
The construction is intentionally exposed and legible, mirroring the way nature reveals its own processes. The Corten steel frame dissolves into the forest palette, while the horizontal larch railings emphasize movement and turn the walkway into a precise graphic line that follows its three-dimensional bends.
In parallel, the site’s biological structure has been restored: thousands of native perennials and shrubs were planted to revive the damaged phytocoenosis. Here, the forest is not a backdrop but a co-author; the project simply corrects what had been disrupted.
The Second Axis becomes a different way of seeing the forest — neither from above nor below, but inside its internal logic. It is a force line moving through the forest’s field of tensions: a structure that does not change the forest, but changes the order in which the forest is perceived.