Balcony House / Ryo Matsui Architects. Image Courtesy of Ryo Matsui Architects Inc
We walk on "flat" ground every day and rarely think twice—but how flat is it, really? In the city, curbs are chamfered, sidewalks pitch toward grates, and roadways are crowned to shed water into shallow gutters. In suburbs and on unpaved paths, irregular terrain is the norm. Inside buildings, by contrast, we pursue near-perfect horizontality—structural frames, slabs, and finishes are all disciplined to create level walking surfaces in the name of safety and accessibility. Yet flatness is inherently at odds with water. A closer look reveals a quiet repertoire of accommodations: slight falls at entries, thresholds raised a few millimeters, wet areas with barely perceptible pitches. The floor is read as flat, but it is in fact carefully tuned—micro-topographies masquerading as plane—to manage water without calling attention to themselves.
What are the common ways architects "keep things flat" while actually managing water—the perennial enemy of buildings? A useful way to look at it is by zooming into three recurring conditions: exterior or roof decking, bathrooms and other wet rooms, and exterior ground planes. Each relies on a slightly different toolkit—pedestal systems over sloped waterproofing, micro-gradients to floor traps, hidden perimeter drains, split slopes—to maintain the illusion of a seamless, level surface. Studying these situations side by side reveals just how much design effort goes into reconciling perceptual flatness with the messy reality.
Terrazzo has long stood at the intersection of durability, artistry, and timeless appeal. Originating in Italy as a pragmatic way to reuse marble fragments in flooring, terrazzo has since become synonymous with elegance and strength in architecture. Traditionally crafted by hand using stone chips and lime and later, cement, it created continuous, seamless surfaces that celebrated both craftsmanship and endurance. Over time, as construction methods evolved and projects began to demand greater efficiency, adaptability, and modularity, terrazzo expanded beyond its traditional limits. From poured-in-place systems to modern epoxy-based formulations, it has evolved into a versatile material that enables thinner sections, faster installation, and a wider range of colors and aggregates. Today, precast terrazzo complements the traditional method, unlocking new applications without compromising performance or beauty, from stairs and wall cladding to furniture and custom design elements.
In contemporary interior architecture, service provisions—mechanical, electrical, HVAC, plumbing—are almost always treated as elements to be concealed. Thickened wall cavities, extensive dropped ceilings, and, in regions where solid construction such as brick or concrete prevails, furred-out walls are routinely employed to hide these systems. This approach has become so normalized that it often forms the starting assumption for spatial planning, inherently constraining imagination and reducing the range of spatial possibilities. The priority shifts towards covering-up, rather than exploring how these systems might coexist visibly within a design language.
A project can be drawn in broad strokes, but it's built in details. Simple as it may seem, a staircase involves a significant degree of engineering. Some are noticeably more tiring, or more difficult to climb and descend. To address this, in the 17th century, architect François Blondel proposed a formula to ensure the ideal proportion between riser and tread, an equation that, when respected, offers a comfortable path. But there's another equally decisive factor: all steps must be identical. This may sound trivial and logical, yet executing anything with precision is always a construction challenge. Our bodies quickly adapt to the dimensions of the steps, and any variation (even minimal) can lead to repeated stumbles or missteps. A seemingly insignificant detail, when poorly resolved, can compromise the well-being and safety of an entire building.
Tucked discreetly beneath the colonnade of Saint Mark's Square in Venice, Carlo Scarpa's Olivetti Showroom exerts a quiet yet unmistakable presence. Though often overshadowed by the grandeur of nearby landmarks—St. Mark's Basilica, the Clocktower, the Loggetta, and the Procuratie Vecchie—it attracts a particular kind of visitor: those who seek out one of Scarpa's architectural gems hidden in plain sight. Modest in scale but rich in detail, the showroom is meticulously maintained by FAI (Fondo Ambiente Italiano), the National Trust for Italy.
In Venice, surrounded by an overwhelming abundance of architectural beauty—the grandeur of landmarks like the Basilica di San Marco, St. Mark's Square, and the Rialto Bridge, to name just a few—it is easy to become swept up in the iconic imagery and spatial majesty of the city. One could lose sight of the quieter, yet equally masterful, moments found in the execution of details across its built fabric. Beyond the grandeur, the city offers a richness in its winding alleyways, narrow canals, and vibrant street life—each contributing to the cultural tapestry that makes Venice so unique. Amidst these celebrated elements, however, lie subtle but remarkable architectural details that often go unnoticed. These deserve closer observation and reflection, as they offer their own kind of mastery—one grounded in material precision, craft, and the lived rhythms of the city.
Just steps away from the iconic Piazza San Marco, a quiet architectural dialogue unfolds between two celebrated figures. Within a one-minute walk, two projects—each meticulously crafted—sit in close proximity: the Olivetti Showroom by Carlo Scarpa, a long-revered pilgrimage site for architects and designers, and the recently reopened Procuratie Vecchie, restored by David Chipperfield Architects. A closer look at the architectural details embedded within each work reveals a compelling exchange across time—one that unfolds through material language, spatial precision, and an unwavering commitment to craft.
The choice of door types plays a crucial role in defining the spatial experience and atmosphere of architecture. Beyond material or style, the way a door is detailed—its movement, weight, and method of operation—can drastically influence how a space is perceived and navigated. However, what truly enables the functionality of different door types is the often-overlooked element of door hardware. Even within the same door type, the selection of hinges, tracks, pivots, and handles can significantly affect how users interact with and interpret the space.
Doors are among the most frequently used architectural elements in any occupied building, serving as movable thresholds that negotiate between private and public spaces. They facilitate both connection and separation among co-inhabitants. Yet, despite their fundamental role, doors are often one of the most overlooked design elements, particularly by clients. In discussions with industry professionals on various interior projects, a common consensus emerges—clients typically pay little attention to door types and details as long as the opening direction aligns with their expectations. However, the world of door design is an intricate one, offering a wealth of possibilities in finishes, installation methods, and modes of operation—each of which can significantly shape the spatial experience beyond the simple matter of swing direction.
The choice of door type and detailing can define or redefine a space entirely. Some doors offer superior sound insulation, while others remain open to connect spaces, enhancing spatial fluidity seamlessly. Certain designs require meticulous installation and ongoing maintenance, while others are virtually hassle-free. Moreover, the type of door selected, particularly that of the hinge, influences not only wall construction but also flooring layers and transitions, adding further complexity to the design process.
In 2024, a diverse range of topics have been comprehensively explored, some focusing specifically on architectural details and construction systems. These articles provide valuable insights into architecture's often-overlooked technical and functional aspects. By shifting attention away from aesthetics, materials, and spatial massing, they reveal the importance of intricate details and the construction systems underpinning contemporary projects' larger architectural vision.
Executing these seemingly small elements is crucial in shaping how architecture is perceived and experienced. Specifying and drawing a thoughtfully designed detail is not dissimilar to determining the correct screw in building a car—its thread count, material, and length—can dramatically influence not only the success of an architectural design but also the quality of the human experience it fosters. Such details, while often dismissed as mundane and may not be the most recognizable features of stellar projects, profoundly impact the cohesiveness and functionality of architectural projects.
In the 21st century, Glass has become a cornerstone material for architecture. Once limited to apertures and openings, Glass now dominates entire facades, especially in high-rise buildings where transparent cladding material is preferred to maximize views. The technological advancements in Glass have been remarkable, transitioning from single-pane panels, such as those used in Bauhaus' iron window frames, to today's triple-pane systems with specialized gas infills, such as argon, designed to address Glass's long-standing thermal limitations.
Two primary building approaches are commonly identified in architecture and design: solid versus hollow construction. These methods vary significantly across different cultures and regions, specifically for interior partitioning systems, when they appear interchangeable. Each has its own established practices influenced by local materials, labor preferences, climatic conditions, and cultural traditions. When architects and designers focus on their local context, it is easy to overlook the broader construction assumptions, limiting design flexibility and methodology. This raises an important question: How do these two building approaches differ?
Focusing mainly on interior systems, the distinctions between solid and hollow construction largely stem from the availability of materials and workforce preferences. For example, in the United States and Japan, stud walls, both wood and metal, are frequently used for partitioning. Conversely, brick remains the predominant material for partition walls in regions such as Hong Kong and southern China. Why do we build differently, and what are the benefits and challenges of each building methodology?
Carpa Itinerante / Fabrizio Pugliese + Gabriel Huarte. Image Cortesía de Fabrizio Pugliese + Gabriel Huarte
Spanning over 20 million square kilometers and featuring nearly all the climates of the world, the Latin American region is home to endemic biological wealth and geographical diversity that ranges from some of the most significant rivers in the world to the mountain range of the Andes, the Amazon rainforests, the plains of Patagonia, the coasts of the Caribbean Sea, and more. In light of a collective effort involving local communities and new generations, the construction of installations and structures in these natural environments is aimed not only at meeting functional needs but also at educational, research, and environmental conservation purposes.
Bauhaus's designs have influenced our contemporary society in obvious and subtle ways. Iconic examples include Marcel Breuer’s Wassily Chair, the B55 Chair, the Bauhaus typeface, and the graphic design principles emphasizing clean lines, primary colors, and geometric shapes. However, the architectural construction details of the Bauhaus movement are much less discussed. While most can readily identify modern or Bauhaus buildings by their geometric forms, functionality, and industrial materials, their architectural details are often overlooked. They not only echo the design language of Breuer’s renowned furniture pieces but also have influenced the much-celebrated architectural glass details of Mies van der Rohe. How were Bauhaus's details executed, and how might they be translated into contemporary details today?
Through the analysis of an innovative bamboo grid structure created using augmented reality by architects Kristof Crolla and Garvin Goepel in August 2023, we delve into the intricate world of bamboo architecture, focusing on its application in dome structures through a series of detailed illustrations that uncover the depth of this sustainable material's capabilities.
Architects are known for returning from travel with more photos of buildings than people and for having an esoteric vocabulary of their own. Of course, these are clichés that are not always true. But something that unites most designers is the tendency to pay attention to each detail that makes up a project, be it the material that covers the facade, the junction between different floors, how the doors open, the type of window frame, how the forms were put together for concreting, and more. But a detail that often goes unnoticed – and that makes a huge difference in interior design – is baseboards.
In his Robie House, Frank Lloyd Wright created an ingenious arrangement of public and private spaces that slowly moving away from the street through a series of horizontal planes. Pronounced eaves made the interior space expand toward the outside. Considered the first phase of the American architect's career, the so-called Prairie Houses had marked horizontality, mainly due to the enormous plans created by slightly inclined eaves. Eaves are ubiquitous in most traditional architecture, and in addition to their aesthetic role, they serve several important functions, the primary one being to keep rainwater away from the building's walls and structure. But for some time now, we have seen plenty of projects with sloping roofs without eaves, forming pure and unornamented volumes. This brings us to the question: in these projects, how are practical issues such as draining rainwater?
ELDMØLLA Sauna / Arkitekt August Schmidt + Workshop NTNU-Trondheim + Arnstein Gilberg + Ina Samdal. Image Courtesy of Workshop NTNU-Trondheim
Due to its specific characteristics, the architecture of the sauna is interesting because it gives us lessons related to efficiency and the beauty of simplicity. These are generally very basic structures with a clear function, created to contain different levels of heat and humidity. Thanks to this steam bath, people can release toxins and improve their blood circulation. In addition, they are widely used in cold climates, in close proximity to nature and utilizing the presence of water.
To function, these normally airtight spaces contain a series of internal benches with different dimensions and a heat source that must reach temperatures between 80 and 90°C, including, if necessary, a chimney to expel the smoke. Wood is the material par excellence for saunas, using in most cases native species that maintain their rustic appearance and natural texture. Next, we review 9 saunas designed by architects, including some of their construction details.
Carlson-Reges House (1992-1996). Image Courtesy of Michael Rotondi
Michael Rotondi’s buildings—museums, civic centers, education facilities, monasteries, restaurants, and residences—evoke kinetic mechanisms that fold, hinge, twist, and split open. They express the architect’s feelings, thinking, and mood at the time they had been designed, and, on some occasions, during their assembly and construction. Rotondi was born in 1949 in Los Angeles.
He established his RoTo Architects, a research-based firm in his native city, in 1991 after co-heading Morphosis for 16 years with Thom Mayne. Parallel to his practicing career, the architect has been teaching and lecturing at SCI-Arc, Southern California Institute of Architecture, which he co-founded in 1972, led its graduate program from 1978-1987, and was the school’s second director for a decade from 1987 to 1997.
