This guide shows how to use a D5 Render a free live-sync plugin to improve SketchUp workflow.

This week on the TERRAZA podcast, Nicolás Valencia speaks with Argentine-Spanish architect Zaida Muxí, author of the book “⁠Mujeres, casas y ciudades⁠” (Women, Houses, and Cities), published by dpr-Barcelona in 2018.

In “⁠Mujeres, casas y ciudades⁠”, Muxí proposes rewriting the history of architecture and urbanism by incorporating the contributions of the many women who have been silenced in mainstream historical accounts.

“If we want to play by market rules, housing will never be a right,” Muxí posits in this interview.

The rise of sustainability and the circular economy is transforming the construction industry, driving a growing demand for new specialized roles. Positions such as sustainability managers or circular economy consultants are becoming increasingly common in contemporary projects.

In 2024, the evolution of porcelain tiles has elevated the tactile experience to a new level, transforming them into true works of art. Produced with mineral texture printing technology, the collections feature striking reliefs in dimensions of 120 x 120 cm, 100 x 200 cm, 120 x 250 cm, 160 x 160 cm, and 160 x 320 cm, designed to awaken all the senses. Behind this advancement is Roca Brasil Cerámica, part of the Mexican LAMOSA Group, leading the Roca Cerâmica and Incepa brands.

"Drinking Caracu is drinking health." This is what read on the massive blank wall of a building in downtown São Paulo on the morning of May 1, 2018. Hidden for decades, the advertisement for the famous beer brand now loomed before a massive heap of concrete, twisted metal, and shattered glass. This was the rubble to which the iconic Wilton Paes de Almeida Building had been reduced—a modernist landmark designed by architect Roger Zmekhol and the subject of the documentary Skin of Glass, directed by his daughter, Denise Zmekhol.

The film transcends traditional architectural documentation by blending a personal narrative with the political complexities of contemporary Brazil, a country shaped by deep inequalities and erased memories. At the heart of the story is the building itself, considered a landmark of Brazilian modern architecture, which collapsed in 2018 after a tragic fire.

This Wednesday, October 9, the 19th edition of the Buenos Aires International Architecture Biennale will open to the public. The event, held once again at the Faena Art Center, will run until Sunday, October 13. Over the course of five days, the city will serve as a stage for reflections on sustainability, the environment, and new technologies applied to architecture and design. Alongside the central exhibition, the program will feature international lectures, workshops, and various installations distributed across key locations throughout Buenos Aires.

+ 11

Stone and marble continue to establish themselves as essential materials in architecture and design, for both interiors and exteriors worldwide. CHC offers a curated selection designed to create spaces with a timeless, elegant character. Discover how to incorporate marble and stone into your projects to add a touch of modern style.

Choosing between vinyl and laminate flooring is no longer necessary, as resilient hybrid flooring combines the best features of both materials. Kiwi is a natural flooring made of 80% wood, utilizing a premium impregnation technology that makes it 100% waterproof. This product features 80% wood, while the remaining 20% is composed of plant-based resins. Consequently, it is 100% PVC-free, making it an entirely eco-friendly choice.

Videos

On this week's episode of the TERRAZA podcast, Nicolás Valencia speaks with Chilean architect Sandra Iturriaga about the book ⁠Mapocho Aguas Abajo⁠ (Ediciones ARQ), a publication developed by the Mapocho 42K Lab at the Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile that proposes revaluing the heritage and landscape of the downstream stretch of the Mapocho River in Santiago, Chile.

Videos

This week on the TERRAZA podcast, Nicolás Valencia talks with Venezuelan-American architect Elisa Silva about her book, "Pure Space: Public Space Transformations in Latin American Spontaneous Settlements" (Actar Publishers), an analysis of a series of public space interventions in communities across Mexico, Colombia, Venezuela, Brazil, Argentina, Peru, and Chile.

Videos

Nicolás Valencia talks this week on the TERRAZA podcast with Chilean architect Rodrigo Tisi about his book ⁠Objetos y espacios performativos⁠ (Ediciones ARQ), research that examines key moments to observe, explain, and establish the possibilities of certain performance practices in academia and creative environments.

Videos

This week on the TERRAZA podcast, Nicolás Valencia talks with Brazilian architect and critic Guilherme Wisnik about his book En la niebla (Editorial Bifurcaciones), a series of essays where fog serves as a metaphor for the state of uncertainty in today's world, weaving together contemporary debates on space, art, and politics.

Across different climates and building cultures, many contemporary projects are working with local ways of building in new ways. Earth walls, bamboo structures, shaded thresholds, and collective construction processes are being reconsidered not as references, but as tools for the conditions architecture is facing now and will continue to face.

In these projects, vernacular knowledge appears through practical decisions: how to cool a building without machines, how to build with what is nearby, how to make a structure easier to repair, and how to keep construction knowledge within the community that will use it. The conditions making this knowledge necessary are not coming. They are already here.

+ 17

This article is the winning entry of the Epistle Writing Prize 2025, an annual competition dedicated to recognizing outstanding writing on design, architecture, and the environment.

It's wet season, but this morning's downpour does little to deter the rhythm along La Carrera Séptima. Cyclists and pedestrians weave past ambulatory vendors with carts of avocados, ginger sweets, and phone cases. Toy cars, lightbulbs, and hand-beaded jewelry glisten with raindrops, arranged neatly on tarps that demarcate vendors' territories. Police officers approach a recycler gathering bottles; a tourist bargains for a jacket; two women find each other in the middle of the road, embracing as their coats grow heavy with rain.

La Séptima, or Bogotá's Seventh Avenue, is the most emblematic road in Bogotá, traversed by more than two million people every day. Along this single road — part marketplace, part protest route, part transportation hub — Bogotá's history unfolds. For nearly a year, I traced its rhythms as a pedestrian, commuter, inhabitant, and researcher. In all these moments and their historical incarnations, one image endured: the road is a living body. It is imagined as Bogotá's backbone, its vital artery, its heart. It bleeds, bears scars, and demands care.

Most of Europe's future housing already exists, yet renovation continues to happen too slowly to address climate, housing, health and resource challenges at the scale required. Re:Living explores how renovation can move from isolated projects to a scalable approach for transforming existing buildings. At the heart of the initiative is a new research project, The Housing We Need for the Future We Want, which examines how better use of the existing building stock can unlock new opportunities for architects, cities and communities.

Mexico City is a sprawling metropolis of layered temporalities, where architecture operates as a continuous negotiation between deep-seated history and intense urban mutation. Built over the aquatic traces of Tenochtitlan, the city's fabric is an ongoing dialogue between eras: the monumental scale of the Pre-Hispanic Templo Mayor and the Viceroyalty architecture of the Catedral Metropolitana coexist with the modern and contemporary impulses that define its skyline. This dense juxtaposition creates a unique urban canvas where sacred geography, colonial imposition, and 20th-century ambition intersect.

The mid-century marked a definitive era of experimentation, forging a Mexican Modernism that masterfully synthesized international structural rationalism with local identity and materiality. This synthesis is epitomized by the sweeping, plastic integration of art and architecture at the Ciudad Universitaria, the structural poetry of Félix Candela's hyper-parabolic shells, and the raw, monumental brutalism of Teodoro González de León and Abraham Zabludovsky. Parallel to this, the intimate, introspective mastery of Luis Barragán and Juan O'Gorman redefined domestic space, experimenting with light, vernacular color, and tectonic honesty to create spaces of profound spatial stillness.

+ 53

Videos

An experiential rebellion takes center stage in the fourth episode of the Room For Dreams podcast, hitting directly at the heart of today's screen-deep, image-obsessed design culture. Recorded live at Milan Design Week 2026 in cooperation with INDX|GLOBAL, host Claire Broadka sits down with four Indian architectural voices — Indrajit Kembhavi, Manish Gulati, Sanjay Singh, and Sidhartha Talwar — to explore a critical question: have we sacrificed the soul of architecture for the sake of a picture-perfect Instagram post?

Cities are increasingly designed to mitigate risk, and by doing so, need to collect data on climate, infrastructure, biodiversity, and social fragmentation so that the language of resilience becomes a fixture of planning. Yet the underlying conditions that produce polarization, civic disengagement, and ecological breakdown often remain unquestioned. The tools that dominate urban practice tend to address only one register of human experience, while the emotional and imaginative dimensions of transformation are not treated as reliable solutions.

Philosopher Felix Guattari proposed that sustained ecological transformation depends on simultaneous attention to three distinct ecologies: the ecology of the mind, the ecology of society, and the ecology of the environment. Mainstream environmental politics tends to concentrate on one or two of the three, flattening a complex condition into a defined problem with a clear answer. Ancient rituals remind us that transformation depends on practices that simultaneously engage the body, the community, and the environment.

+ 27

A monument is usually the most conservative building a state will commission. It is expected to stabilize memory, to make history legible, and to give public form to a shared narrative. Eastern Europe's twentieth century produced an entire body of work from the Baltic to the Balkans that resisted precisely those expectations, challenging the conventional relationship between monument, memory, and representation. Commonly grouped under the name spomeniks, these architectural exercises are perhaps the best-known examples of a much broader landscape of memorial architecture that emerged across the region. These were societies emerging from occupation, civil conflict, or revolution, and none of them possessed a single symbolic language capable of accommodating the complexity of their histories. Rather than searching for new heroes or new icons, many architects and artists turned to space itself as the medium through which remembrance could be constructed.

These monuments occupy an unusual position between sculpture and architecture. At one scale, they read as deliberate abstract compositions arranged with the clarity of a drawing by Kandinsky. At another, they seem less resolved, as if testing the limits of a spatial language still in formation. Their forms often appear caught between certainty and experimentation, the same monument readable as a controlled geometric object and as an open-ended search for how collective memory might inhabit space. But these readings coexist and give many of these works their enduring ambiguity.

+ 11

One of the defining qualities of contemporary interiors is flexibility. Offices, education facilities, hotels, and cultural venues need to be adaptable. They require spaces that can expand, divide, open, and close according to different activities, without sacrificing comfort, or accoustics. How a space is subdivided, then, is no longer a secondary decision, but a central component of architectural performance.

Every twelve years, the banks of the Ganges at Prayagraj become one of the largest cities on Earth — and then disappear. The Maha Kumbh Mela draws over 400 million pilgrims across six weeks, requiring the construction of a full urban infrastructure: pontoon bridges, field hospitals, kilometers of temporary roads, a grid of tent cities visible from space. When the festival ends, it is dismantled entirely. No gathering in human history produces a more complete architecture of movement; built for arrival, engineered for transience, and designed to leave no permanent trace. The Kumbh Mela is exceptional in scale, but not in condition: movement has become a defining spatial problem of the century.

This month, ArchDaily explores Architectures of Movement: Land, Borders, and the Politics of Belonging, a theme that examines how mobility reshapes architecture's relationship to territory, ownership, and identity. The topic does not treat movement as a crisis to be managed, but as a fundamental lens through which to reconsider what buildings, cities, and borders actually do: who they accommodate, who they exclude, and what they make permanent.

+ 4

A building material rarely begins where architecture encounters it. By the time concrete reaches a construction site, its limestone has already been quarried, processed, and transformed. Timber arrives long after the forest. Glass appears detached from the sand from which it was made. By the time materials enter construction, much of the landscape and industry that produced them has already disappeared from view.

Across India and the SWANA region, another material supply chain is becoming visible. Rice husks, coconut fibres, sugarcane bagasse, and date palm residues, once treated as agricultural leftovers, are increasingly entering architecture as insulation, composite panels, fibreboards, and cement substitutes. Rice mills, coconut plantations, sugar factories, and date farms are increasingly becoming part of the architectural supply chain.

+ 7

In 1743, a small cabin suspended by ropes was installed in a courtyard of the Palace of Versailles for the private use of King Louis XV. Manually operated by servants hidden from view, the so-called "flying chair" allowed movement between floors without stairs, and unknowingly introduced one of the central questions of modern architecture: how to move people vertically in a way that is efficient, safe, and integrated into the building.

The mechanization of this principle, with the introduction of a safety elevator in the early 1850s, paved the way for an unprecedented urban transformation. Without the elevator, the skyscrapers of Chicago and New York in the 1880s would have been unfeasible not because of structural limitations, but because of access. The elevator made it possible to build higher, and it also defined the logic of how these buildings would operate, where their cores would be placed, how their lobbies would be organized, and who could reach which spaces.

While human life depends heavily on plants for the medicines, building materials, and fuel they provide, they also play a vital role in many ecological processes. From climate regulation through carbon dioxide absorption to soil fertility and the purification of air and water, plant diversity offers opportunities to address some of the most pressing challenges of this century, including food security, energy availability, climate change, and habitat degradation. In this context, botanical gardens act as living refuges that foster innovation, adaptation, and human resilience. But what can architectural practice learn from botany and its methods?

+ 13

For some time now, it has become common to wonder where the things we consume come from. We check labels, seek out local producers, and investigate supply chains in an attempt to understand the impact of our habits, whether on our own health or on the planet.

In the field of architecture, however, this question remains relatively marginal. We often know who designed a building, its finishes, the manufacturer of its frames, the brand of its wall coverings, and even its energy performance, but we almost never ask where the tons of material that made its existence possible actually came from.

+ 14