An ode to imagination
A story of the collaborative strategy for the new primary school in Tomelilla, Sweden, based on Doughnut Economics.
Time is interesting. It’s now been just over a year since I handed in the proposal for a strategy for the new school in Tomelilla. I had by then, been working closely with Tomelilla municipality and the architecture firm Wingårdhs the full spring. My head was full of thoughts and I was quite overwhelmed by the complexity of what we had been working on. And as you often do, in the creative industry, I felt both numb and blind towards the process itself. So being here today, revisiting this little project, made me once again see how beautiful and powerful the collaboration and the strategy had been.
Today I will tell you the story of this school, from my own perspective, and hopefully by doing so, I will spark some imagination. The story began two years ago, when a friend of mine sent over a link to an open tender he thought would be perfect for me. I had never applied for a tender in such a way before, but when reading about this, I realised it was clearly speaking my language. Luckily, on the other side of the tender application sat a former philosopher - Stefan, who, just as eagerly as me, wanted to push and dream and explore. And somehow I won the tender, and I remember the first meeting with Stefan in his small office in Tomelilla. The moment when I asked him to share the one most important thing to focus on, the core of the project, and he told me that was to not hold back, to be brave. That it would be easier to remove, than to add. That to me, is exactly how we need to approach problems in our times, and that moment is one I will carry with me forever.
The task, given to my design studio When!When!, was to come up with a strategy for how to create the world’s first primary school based on Doughnut Economics and the principles of building within planetary boundaries. Me and my colleague Hamid didn’t fully know where to start and simply threw ourselves into it. We did a lot of research on everything we could find on the construction industry, architecture and Doughnut Economics, which wasn’t a lot by then. And what we quickly realised when working with the strategy and the following report, was how enormously entangled the world truly is. We knew that working with the economy, built futures and school environments would send us off into new unknown directions, but we never fully realised the extreme complexity of what this would entail. Over the course of a few months of research, deep dives into data on carbon emissions, architectural futures and our metacrisis, we often felt like we ended up with more questions than answers.
Through digesting reports, workshops and meetings with experts in various fields we ended up building the strategy for the school in Tomelilla based on four different pillars; Environmental regeneration, Architectural Design, Technical Innovation and Community Care. For each pillar we then defined underlying themes and together they encompassed all that we viewed as important when rethinking how to make a school building or learning environment fit for a different future. Throughout all of these themes, we also worked with 8 strategic principles. They were important for our work when interweaving regenerative architecture and economic thinking that went beyond current monetary focused systems. And I’m sure I’ve lost you already with all these themes, pillars and principles, which clearly shows how complex a project like this truly is. But if I were to frame it in a more simple way, the core pillars gave us a framework and from there we expanded into systems and interwoven relationships.
The first pillar, environmental regeneration, challenges us to move beyond the idea of simply doing less harm. Instead, it asks us to restore, repair, and bring new life to the ecosystems we touch. That means looking closely at the biodiversity already present; plants, insects, animals, and the subtle micro-ecosystems that make up a place. It means designing landscapes that work as classrooms in themselves, where children can learn through food forests, outdoor gardens, and nature playgrounds. Regeneration also calls on us to integrate food production into the site; greenhouses, vegetable patches, edible landscapes, and to treat waste as nourishment for the soil. This is not just about sustainability; it is about creating a living, breathing partnership with nature.
The second pillar, architectural design, is where vision meets materiality. How do we construct spaces that embody circularity, flexibility, and care? Buildings should not only be energy-efficient, but also made of materials that can be reused, recycled, or even returned to the earth without harm. We must design for adaptability and structures that shift with the seasons, that can be disassembled or upgraded when needed, and that work with, not against, the rhythms of our planet. Water systems, mobility planning, and logistics all come into play, ensuring that the built environment supports both human life and the ecosystems surrounding it. Architecture, in this vision, becomes a living organism: not static and final, but responsive and open to change.
The third pillar, technical innovation, offers the tools that enable resilience. This is not technology for its own sake, but for autonomy, flexibility, and circularity. Energy systems, for example, should strive toward independence where solar panels, local grids, and storage solutions reduce dependence on fossil fuels. Technical infrastructures must be modular and upgradeable, not locked into constructions you can’t reach. Waste should be understood as a resource, with composting and recycling embedded in everyday practice. Importantly, innovation here also means preparing for uncertainty: building reserves of water, energy, and food so the community can withstand disruptions. Technology in this sense is not hidden in the background, it becomes visible, accessible, and educational, part of the learning journey for everyone who uses the school.
Finally, the fourth pillar, community care, reminds us why the other three matter. A school is never an isolated institution; it is always part of a wider social fabric. To care for a community is to cultivate belonging, wellbeing, and equity. This pillar asks us to design spaces that are not just for children between the hours of eight and five, but for the entire community across generations. It asks us to imagine governance models that give voice to students, teachers, and neighbours alike, and to ensure that inclusion is not an afterthought but a foundation. Care also means resilience: ensuring that the school can be a resource in times of need, a safe gathering space, a hub of knowledge and solidarity.
Taken together, these four pillars form more than just a strategy for building a school, they sketch out a vision for how we might live differently. Regenerating ecosystems, designing with circularity, innovating with resilience, and caring for communities are not separate ambitions. They are intertwined, each strengthening the other. The challenge before us is not only to build a school, but to create a living demonstration of a future worth striving for.
After having done this structural analysis, we invited the architecture firm Wingårds to help make sense of spaces and buildings within the framework we had developed. During many workshops and meetings, the structure of a school started to take form. And by the end of last spring, we handed over a masterplan and a report of the new school to Tomelilla Municipality. It included many of our systemic thoughts but also a beautiful building, following the tenders vision and expectations.
However, I personally felt a bit lost in the complexity of it all. The task had been to come up with a strategy for a school within planetary boundaries, to follow the framework of Doughnut Economics. However, that wasn’t what was delivered. So, I pulled out my more rebellious persona, and decided to quickly provide yet another report. One that would go all the way towards creating a school within the limits of our planet. I felt vulnerable and somewhat frightened. My aim was not to create any frictions, but to simply showcase something else. So, in the end Tomelilla ended up with two reports. One with a beautiful school building inspired by Doughnut Economics, and then one with an idea of skipping the building and creating an outdoor school instead that would fully stay within planetary boundaries. In the end, I don’t think anyone got as upset as I was afraid they would be. And now, a year later, I think this is actually quite a brilliant way of working. To show what is possible today, but also, to show where we might need to go. And these two reports work really well together.
So, back to the ode to imagination. If we want to transform realities, we need to dare to transform how we imagine. Imagination, to me, is not an escape from reality but a tool to re-compose it. It is the courage to sit with complexity, to resist the urge to simplify too early, and to allow unlikely connections to form. In the Tomelilla school project, imagination was the hidden glue. It held together the strands of biodiversity, architecture, technology, and social care, threads that, on their own, risked being too heavy or too technical. Through imagination, they became part of one story.
What I learned in this process is that imagination thrives when it is collective. My own ideas would have gone nowhere without the boldness of Stefan, the curiosity of Hamid, the rigor of Wingårdhs, or the willingness of the municipality to stretch its own expectations. We often think imagination belongs to artists or visionaries, but here I saw how it is sparked in dialogue, in disagreement, in shared laughter when an idea sounds impossible but still refuses to die. The reports we delivered - one grounded in present possibilities and one pushing into the edges of what might come, are both the start of this collective imagination.
And this is where I find hope. Because if a small municipality in southern Sweden can choose to explore Doughnut Economics through the building of a school, then perhaps imagination can become a civic practice elsewhere, too. Maybe schools can remind us that the future is not yet decided, that education can be about learning to live differently together, and that buildings themselves can become teachers.
An ode to imagination, then, is really an ode to courage. To the willingness to put forward ideas that might be dismissed. To hold space for visions that are bigger than today’s values or regulations. To remember that imagination is the most serious tool we have for survival. And if there is one thing I take with me from Tomelilla, it is this: the future will belong to those who dare to imagine, together, without holding back.
Thank you.
Lecture given during the Doughnut Economics yearly gathering in Tomelilla in September 2025.
Full report HERE