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.
Urban playgrounds are evolving from simple swing sets and slides into dynamic, multi-faceted urban landscapes. These new designs are more than just places to play; they are thoughtfully integrated spaces that address urban challenges, promote community, and inspire creativity. A key trend is the intentional use of color and pattern. Designers are utilizing vibrant color zones to segment different functional areas, creating a visually dynamic experience that contrasts with natural surroundings. This approach can also be used to establish a cohesive urban identity, with thoughtful color palettes that complement the existing cityscape.
In contemporary architecture, façades have evolved beyond their traditional role as protective exteriors—they now serve as powerful expressions of identity, creativity, and sustainability. As the visual gateway to a building, façades play a dual role: safeguarding structures from environmental stressors while enhancing their aesthetic appeal and architectural character.
Much like interior design reflects the personality of its occupants, a façade communicates the essence of a building. It forms the first impression and serves as a canvas for architectural storytelling, often embodying the vision and creativity of the architect.
Across diverse climates and landscapes, architects are reimagining the home as a place deeply rooted in its surroundings, where architecture and environment work together to nurture well-being. This curated selection of unbuilt residences, submitted by the ArchDaily community, are conceived as sanctuaries, offering respite from the pace of urban life and drawing on the restorative qualities of greenery, water, and open air. Nature is utilized as an active presence, shaping courtyards, guiding circulation, and influencing the choice of materials and colors.
Play Landscape be-MINE / Carve + OMGEVING. Image Courtesy of Carve
Playgrounds are spatial instruments through which society projects its expectations on childhood, testing the boundaries between control and autonomy, exposure and protection. They regulate how children relate to space, to others, and their bodies — encoding, often invisibly, social norms, fears, and aspirations. In this sense, playgrounds are not peripheral spaces of leisure; they are political constructs shaped by specific ideologies about what childhood is and how it should unfold. Since 1989, the right to play has been formally recognised in the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, affirming that play is a fundamental part of human development. To design a playground is not only to draw lines on a plan or to install equipment in a park; it is to define the conditions under which play is permitted, imagined, or constrained.
Wood, one of the oldest building materials, has been continuously reinvented throughout history. As contemporary architecture becomes more and more concerned with sustainability and environmental responsibility, the popularity of the material has also increased. As trees absorb carbon dioxide during their growth, their wood stores that carbon, keeping it out of the atmosphere. The materials derived from wood are thus associated with less greenhouse gas emissions on the condition of trees being harvested from sustainably managed forests. But in order to capture the full potential of this material, a plethora of techniques and modifications have evolved with the purpose of adapting and customizing wood's characteristics to the demands of modern design and construction. From thermal modification to engineered wood or versatile particle boards, these methods not only enhance wood's suitability for the rigors of contemporary architecture but also expand the usability of this sustainable material to an unprecedented scale.
Born in Sudan and currently based in London, Mohieldin Gamal brings a unique perspective to architecture shaped by his deep connection to both his homeland and global practice. His early fascination with architecture began in 1995, during the construction of his primary school, where he first encountered the significance of materiality, climatic design, and historical context. These formative experiences laid the foundation for his multifaceted approach to architecture as both a practitioner and a writer.
Mohieldin studied architecture at the University of Nottingham and gained valuable experience working with prominent UK firms. In 2021, he returned to Sudan to teach at the University of Khartoum and helped establish the Sudan Chapter of Docomomo, underscoring his commitment to preserving and promoting Sudanese architectural heritage. His work focuses on exploring underreported architecture and the complex historical, political, and economic forces that shape building practices in Africa and beyond.
In recent decades, a quiet revolution has reshaped how we interact with the objects and systems in our daily lives. What once required cranks or rotary mechanisms, and later the press of a button, is now giving way to experiences that are increasingly fluid, intuitive, and touchless. This shift is evident in public restrooms, where minimizing physical contact promotes better hygiene and reduces the spread of pathogens. It also reflects a broader change in paradigms of comfort, accessibility, and efficiency. Touchless devices, once restricted to isolated applications in hospitals, airports, or corporate buildings, have become standard in projects that prioritize user experience and sustainability.
Ghibli and Disneyworld comparison. Image via J-LIGHTS / Koichiro Itamura and Theme Park Tourist on wikipedia with license CC BY 2.0
When it comes to designing for a child's imagination, the architectural landscape presents two different philosophies. Disneyland and Studio Ghibli, both masters of imaginative storytelling, represent this core division. Their approaches, far from being accidental, reflect different views on how children experience and engage with space. One provides a spectacle of constructed fantasy, while the other offers a landscape for potential magic. These two models present architects with a fundamental choice for tackling these sorts of projects: to design spaces that cater to children's innate need for sensory and personal discovery, or to create a fantasy that appeals to their growing ability to understand narratives and more complex spaces.
Historically, the concept of childhood as we know it today simply didn't exist and, until the Middle Ages, children were viewed as miniature adults. According to historian Philippe Ariès, it was only from the 17th century onward that childhood began to be understood as a distinct stage of development, requiring specific care, education, and protection. However, this evolving recognition has not been consistently reflected in the design and organization of urban space.
Amid questions, reflections, and debates, the work of Clorindo Testa embodies an innate connection between artistic and architectural experimentation, reflected in many of his built projects, sketches, models, and plans. From the Mariano Moreno National Library to the former Bank of London building in Buenos Aires, his production is of such scope, diversity, and complexity that it constitutes a major source of study, one that also includes unbuilt projects that deserve visibility and recognition on a global scale. In his final years of professional activity, two unbuilt projects of religious architecture highlight Testa’s work not only as an architect but also as a visual artist.
The use of primary colors, pure forms, and concrete represent some of the most distinctive characteristics of Clorindo Testa’s architecture, which is inseparable from his visual art. Reflecting on themes such as living in large cities or the conditions of life in urban spaces, the powerful expressiveness and plasticity of his works, together with the character of the line, his typical color palette, and the frequent presence of the human figure, reveal the importance and meaning he attributed to scales, uses, and perceptions as an architect who never settled for the first idea.
In heritage districts from Prague to Paris, a countdown has begun. Years until countless architectural treasures become, quite literally, worthless. Not through the slow erosion of time or the erratic shifts of cultural taste, but through the inevitable mathematics of atmospheric chemistry. In UrbanDecarbonisation: Destranding Cities for a Post-fossil Future, Paolo Cresci, Francesca Galeazzi, and Aurel von Richthofen introduce the concept of "carbon stranding", a scenario in which buildings become financially non-viable due to tightening carbon regulations. This threatens to render entire heritage districts financially extinct before they reach their centennials.
From the interior design of sports facilities to wellness spaces, contemporary architecture continues to experiment with incorporating different uses, installations, and materialities that make it possible to reach broader audiences, generate new spatial experiences, and enhance the simultaneous development of various activities. While each sport requires its own type of architecture, such as climbing training, for example, architecture and design professionals are striving to create atmospheres where exercise becomes more than just a physical experience, but also a psychological one, connecting mind and body through a state of physical renewal, relaxation, and sociability.
Nestled amongst the plethora of grandiose and carefully crafted national pavilions in the Giardini della Biennale in the Italian city of Venice is one pavilion by the city's perhaps most well-known modern architect. Sited between the pavilions of Russia and Switzerland is the VenezuelaPavilion, by architect Carlo Scarpa. In many ways, the structure typifies the design approach of its architect but has its idiosyncrasies. Built for Europe's most important biennial art exhibition, it is a member of a cohort of Modernist pavilions that came after the earlier, more classicist pavilions. This is its story.
A good design should be adapted to the user's needs, and participatory design aims to reduce the distance between architects and those for whom the project is made. In this sense, projects for children that welcome them as central actors in the design process demonstrate how the potential of active listening and co-designing is reflected in spaces adapted to a smaller scale and to an audience in a phase of intense learning.
Whether they are kindergartens, schools, community centers, or public spaces, participatory projects with children show how the design process can be an enriching exchange for both sides. On the one hand, children can learn about materials, scales, decision-making, and develop spatial awareness. On the other hand, the architects responsible for making the desires and needs of the young users concrete can learn to exercise sensitivity and imagination and recognize a different worldview focused on discovery. All of this is possible through listening and open dialogue between different age groups.
This curated selection of projects from the 2025 Venice Architecture Biennale explores regeneration as a deliberate, intelligent process rooted in the specific conditions of a place. For decades, the Biennale has been a testing ground for architecture's most urgent ideas, allowing designers, researchers, and institutions to present visions that address evolving environmental, cultural, and social challenges. This year's projects reveal how regeneration, whether of an entire coastal city, a disused industrial site, or a neglected public space, requires more than replacing the old with the new. It calls for a precise reading of existing contexts, the preservation of embedded knowledge, and the careful integration of contemporary needs.
The eight selected works show that regeneration can emerge from multiple starting points: reactivating heritage through adaptive reuse, restoring ecological systems as part of urban planning, developing open and modular strategies for social housing renewal, or layering technological innovation onto historically rooted practices. While the scale of intervention varies, each project demonstrates a sensitivity to what is already there and existing, be it material resources, urban patterns, or cultural memory, and a willingness to work with these assets as catalysts for transformation. Together, they suggest that regeneration must start somewhere, and that its success lies in balancing innovation with the intelligence of what already exists.
In 2020, in the midst of the first wave of lockdowns due to the pandemic, the municipality of Amsterdam announced its strategy for recovering from this crisis by embracing the concept of the “Doughnut Economy.” The model is developed by British economist Kate Raworth and popularized through her book, “Doughnut Economics: Seven Ways to Think Like a 21st-Century Economist”, released in 2017. Here, she argues that the true purpose of economics does not have to equal growth. Instead, the aim is to find a sweet spot, a way to balance the need to provide everyone with what they need to live a good life, a “social foundation” while limiting our impact on the environment, “the environmental ceiling.” With the help of Raworth, Amsterdam has downscaled this approach to the size of a city. The model is now used to inform city-wide strategies and developments in support of this overarching idea: providing a good quality of life for all without putting additional pressure on the planet. Other cities are following this example.
To recover, revitalize, convert—these actions have become increasingly present in contemporary cities, where architecture takes on the role of stitching together the overlapping layers of time that make up the urban fabric. Faced with this task, architects have explored a range of design strategies. Among them, one material in particular has stood out for how frequently—and effectively—it appears in interventions on historic buildings and contexts: corten steel. With its rusted surface, rich in texture and tone, it seems to offer a compelling answer to the challenging question of how to insert the new into the old. But what makes this material so recurrent in these situations? Is it simply its durability and versatility, or is there something deeper in its visual and symbolic presence?
Contemporary Mexican market architecture frequently draws inspiration from its pre-Hispanic precedents. The Tlatelolco Market in ancient Tenochtitlan, for example, featured a large, stone-paved open square with designated "streets", which were divided into sections for specific goods, serving as a significant gathering point for social and economic exchange. Similarly, the tradition of the Tianguis, an ephemeral market typology within the broader Mesoamerican tradition, also arranged stalls in aisles within a public plaza, reflecting organizational principles seen in Tlatelolco. These historical models established a base for the tradition of marketplaces in Mexico and the countries in Central America, where they merge public space and structured layouts for commerce. Today, even though many of Mexico's commercial spaces, notably Mexico City's Central de Abasto and other markets such as the Jamaica, Merced, and San Juan Markets, have taken on a stationary approach to serving their communities, tianguis maintain their foothold in Mexican society.
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.
Touted as the new era in construction, Building Information Modeling (BIM) has captured global attention with its promise of seamless coordination, trimmed budgets, and newfound efficiencies. Yet in India's construction landscape, the adoption of technology tells a more nuanced story about cultural barriers and technical limitations.
"The bigger barrier isn't the technology but rather the planning culture," explains Rahul Bahl Managing Director of Krishna Buildestates Pvt Ltd, highlighting what may be BIM's most fundamental challenge in India. "BIM requires that every detail be finalized before construction begins, from electrical switch locations to final finishes. In India, we often break ground with just the shell resolved and spend the next several months value-engineering as we go."
The 19th International Architecture Exhibition of La Biennale di Venezia features a notable presence from the SCI-Arc community, including students, alumni, and faculty. Their work appears across a range of contexts—from national pavilions to independent installations and research projects—engaging critically with this year's theme, Intelligens. The exhibition offers a compelling platform for exploring questions central to SCI-Arc's pedagogy: the future of design, the role of technology, and the possibilities of architectural experimentation.
When we think about cities and urban life, we often focus on infrastructure, culture, commerce, nightlife, and density. In metropolises where there seems to be an endless array of activities—especially for adults—play rarely enters the conversation. Yet, the act of playing should be considered a vital part of urban life. Play directly influences how we shape our future cities—starting with how children engage with their environments. The experience of play, and more specifically, the design and presence of playgrounds, leaves lasting impressions on how young people grow up in cities. These spaces form a child's first, physical connection to the urban landscape. In this way, play deserves far more attention in conversations around urban wellness, livability, and the design of public space.
