Spaces of Resonance

Mathis Neuhaus: I’m delighted to speak with you today about all sorts of topics connected to St. Moritz.
Rolf Sachs: Many things tie me to the place: the Cres-ta, the Bob Run, the Dracula Club of course, but also the Kulm and the Sunny Bar. There are connections on many different levels.

Perhaps we could start with the train ride from Chur to St. Moritz. On my last trip to the Engadin, I couldn’t get enough of the views and the beauty along that route. A few years ago, you created a work called “Camera in Motion: From Chur to Tirano”, a long-term observation of that very train route. How did it come about?
I have a strong bond with that route because I went to school for many years in Zuoz, in the Engadin, while Lausanne was my home. I must have travelled it more than a hundred times. There are other famous railway lines in the world, but this one is truly unique, not least because of the engineering achievement behind it. Just think of the Landwasser Viaduct, where the tunnel disappears straight into the mountain. For over a year I photographed the landscape from the train window. The long exposures produced an abstract, dreamlike aesthetic full of energy. The result was not only visually striking but also philosophical. In that way, I created a monument to the route, which is part of the UNESCO World Heritage.

What comes to mind when you hear the word “icon”? The Rhaetian Railway is an icon, as is the Dracula Club. There are many other markers in your biography and in your work that could be described in those terms.
An icon is something that emerges over time; it has to be a space of resonance. People can be icons, a railway line can be, or even a single photograph or painting. True beauty lies in character — in tolerance and respect. And when those qualities connect with aesthetics, something special arises, perhaps even an iconic beauty.

Where do you place yourself between tradition and modernity? Do you feel more drawn to one than the other?
As an artist I’m avant-garde, but as a person I’m also rooted in tradition. Depending on the perspective, I connect with both poles. In my creative work, I always want to discover something new. But when I think of the Kulm Hotel or the Cresta, where the continuation of traditions plays such an important role and many things are still done as in the early days, then that awareness and maintenance of tradition also has a special beauty.
How has St. Moritz changed since you first became familiar with it?
It still isn’t the architecture that makes St. Moritz such a livable place. What is unique is the nature, the open valley, the lakes, and above all the spirit of the village and the people it attracts. That has always been its great appeal, and it still is today. St. Moritz today easily rivals its so-called golden age. I often hear people say the old days were so wonderful. I say: the old days were much like today. The difference is that now, rightly so, it’s less exclusive. St. Moritz has advanced in many areas, especially culturally. There are more and more galleries, both in the valley and beyond.

And Rome? What does your other home have that St. Moritz doesn’t provide?
St. Moritz is a village, Rome is a city. The irony is that St. Moritz is very cosmopolitan, unlike Rome. Like most European cities, Rome has a provincial side and functions on a very local level. What’s exciting about St. Moritz is that it attracts people you wouldn’t normally find gathering together in one place. That’s remarkable. It gives the village its character, and it’s something Rome and many other cities don’t always have.

A quality you would usually expect from a metropolis.
Exactly. St. Moritz draws very different people at different times of the year. Encounters with fascinating people naturally happen again and again.

What qualities make for good hospitality in your view? Or things you cultivate in order to be a good host?
Openness and a certain freedom of mind, to meet everyone in the same way. For me it’s important to value everyone equally and to create harmony. Good hospitality is not primarily about food and wine, but about the mix and the heart that you are bringing to the table. Those are the aspects that matter most to me in how I understand myself as a host.

When I think of the Kulm, I think of living history. Does that resonate with you, also in relation to how you act and live and collect things?
The way I design my houses and surround myself with things certainly fits that description. My house in St. Moritz, in the former Olympic stadium, is of course closely tied to the sporting history of the village. And to Bauhaus and De Stijl, two artistic movements from the time when the stadium was built. The Kulm, in its beautiful, old-fashioned grand hotel style, has quite a bit of memorabilia. I think of the Sunny Bar, which I renovated myself a long time ago. You can find trophies there, some as much as 140 years old, which are really something special. And the Cresta, too, has many photographs and treasures. The English have incredible know-how about how to run a club like that. If Germans or Swiss were doing it, it would certainly not have the soul it has now. You can see it in the prize ceremonies too, which have been held in the Sunny Bar for decades. Each one is a real celebration, very spectacular.

Finally, perhaps you could share a hidden gem, a way to experience the Engadin at its best. As someone who knows the region like the back of your hand.
We’ve hardly talked about the Dracula yet. We certainly could. But really, there are countless hidden gems among the lakes and huts and nature. I always say: I could host a guest for six weeks and offer something new every single day. The possibilities are endless.

All right, then let’s talk about the Dracula. In preparing for this conversation, I wondered how one should best approach a conversation about the club. There is a tension between its secrecy and, at the same time, an image that radiates outward. How is that balance maintained so that the place endures?
A club like the Dracula is an extended circle of regulars, that’s how I think of it. In a way, it’s an extension of the Cresta. The contact is very personal and there’s a certain international flair, just as is typical in St. Moritz. What matters in the Dracula is what also matters to me personally: that people have humour, charm and empathy, as well as respect and openness. And then we’re together in St. Moritz, escaping every-day life for a week or two. We’re not just among ourselves, because members bring their friends and acquaintances. What is also special is that we often have three generations together in the club, which is rare. Usually young people go somewhere else and older people stop going out. At the Dracula, it all blends together, creating a wonderful harmony and dynamic of style.

Bringing generations together is probably one of the greatest challenges today.
At the Dracula Club, it has always happened naturally. Even in the past, through many of my father’s friends, who were real characters. They always thought the young people were incredibly cool.

This interview first appeared in the book “Begegnungen/Encounters”, published by Kulm Hotel St. Moritz.

Photography: Katja Meuli & Rolf Sachs