The Italian geoscientist Antonio Stoppani described humanity as early as 1873 as a new telluric power, capable of rivaling the great forces of nature in strength and universality. In this framing, humankind is not only placed on the same level as natural forces but begins to be understood as the central geological force—one that can confront nature, overcome and tame it, and impose new patterns and logics upon it. In retrospect, Stoppani thus anticipated the significance of the term Anthropocene, which only emerged as a designation for our epoch in the 2000s.

Humans, one might argue, often stand at the epicenter of their own perception: they compose and shape their surroundings, imbuing them with meaning—or not. It seems almost inevitable that, especially in Western societies, this self-referential logic would eventually begin to turn in circles. Consequently, urban living spaces are understood predominantly as human spaces. Pets are the main exception, though their shelters—doghouses, birdcages, or similar structures—are usually little more than accessories, added rather than thoughtfully integrated. In most cases, such comforts are reserved only for domesticated species.

Yet cities have long since become habitats for many “wild” animals, which have entered into symbiotic relationships or opportunistic cohabitations with urban structures and logics. Raccoons, pigeons, foxes, and a variety of songbirds are only a few of the more familiar examples. Insects, however, rarely come to mind in connection with urban life, largely because of their size. The reciprocal significance of insects and urban green spaces is still far from common sense. Especially for species that live in colonies, such as ants or bees, protected habitats are essential for survival and reproduction, which in turn are crucial for maintaining balanced and self-sustaining vegetation.

This is where Malte Taffner’s project Insektenhotel begins. It rethinks the creation of animal habitats in urban contexts: instead of asking how animal life can adapt to the city, the work considers how humans might create suitable living spaces for non-human species within culturally shaped and altered terrains. The insect hotel, with its sculptural character, establishes a presence of its own. Taffner deliberately plays with aesthetic references: by designing the structure to resemble a minimalist sculpture, he invokes the symbolism of canonised art. On the one hand, this visual language attracts the attention of passersby; on the other, it encourages a heightened sensitivity in how they approach and engage with the object.

Text: Felix Koberstein