In the pursuit of cleaner, safer public restrooms, hand dryers have long faced a unique challenge: how to effectively kill germs in fast-moving air. Traditional germicidal technologies—like UV lights and ionizers— struggle to deliver meaningful impact because they only have milliseconds to interact with airborne microbes. Cold plasma technology is emerging as a new contender that could redefine hygiene standards.
For over a century and a half, corporations have periodically taken on the role of city builders. Neighborhoods or even entire settlements that exist at the intersection of commerce and civic life, "company towns" are recurring urban types. The corporate city has long reshaped itself to match the spirit of each era, whether through the pastoral idealism of industrial England or the cinematic optimism of mid-century America. In its latest guise, the mixed-income campus district, architecture becomes a language of belonging, branding, and quiet persuasion.
In the Water Lilies rooms at the Musée de l'Orangerie in Paris, Claude Monet conceived a 360-degree gallery where visitors are enveloped by continuous landscapes, dissolving the boundaries between painting and environment. There, he sought not merely to represent nature through his distinctive style, but to construct an atmosphere, a perceptual state that the visitor literally inhabits. Architecture, traditionally associated with materiality and permanence, thus gains a new dimension of time, movement, and sensory experience.
Similarly, when contemporary architecture transforms its planes into active surfaces, it extends this pursuit of immersion and presence, now amplified by technology. At the entrance of SOPREMA's new Mammut Tower in Oberroßbach, Germany, architecture and digital narrative converge. Designed and executed by ASB GlassFloor, the newly completed lobby is an immersive environment combining glass, light, and sound into a complete spatial and sensorial experience, demonstrating how interactive technologies can become architectural materials in their own right.
Spaces of hospitality are a mirror to how different cultures articulate generosity, care, belonging, and identity. In busy city settings, this is reflected in hotels, service systems, and curated amenities that directly shape the visitor experience. These spaces translate care into measurable forms, where success is correlated with efficiency, luxury, and brand identity.
In rural America, hospitality operates with a different logic. In these environments, care is grounded in labor and community, while directly responding to the specific ecological and cultural geographies. Distance, limited infrastructure, and close social networks demand forms of architecture that are flexible and self-sufficient. Designs respond to shifting weather, local materials, and a culture where support often begins with neighbors. In this landscape, architectural thresholds of hospitality emerge in responsive, yet unexpected, ways.
Cultural diplomacy refers to the use of cultural expression and creative exchange to foster understanding and build relationships between nations. In this context, architecture has long played a distinctive role. Beyond its functional and aesthetic dimensions, it serves as a medium of communication, a language through which countries express identity, values, and ambition on the global stage.
Architecture operates as a form of soft power — persuasive rather than coercive — enabling nations to project influence through material presence. From modernist embassies in the post-war era to monumental pavilions at world expositions, governments and institutions have recognized the built environment's potential to shape perception. By commissioning prominent architects and adopting specific design languages, countries have used architecture to signal modernity, tradition, innovation, or stability.
Held in Pamplona from the 23rd to the 26th of September, the 2025 Latin American Architecture Biennial (BAL) brought together emerging studios and established voices from across the continent. This year’s edition stood out for the diversity and depth of its participants: projects of striking formal and conceptual richness, developed by young yet remarkably mature offices. Together, they reflected the vitality of today’s Latin American architecture — thoughtful, inventive, and deeply aware of its context.
In the world of interior architecture, where creativity and culture intersect, Tola Ojuolape stands as a designer whose work is a testament to personal narrative. From her early studies in art and construction to her degree in interior architecture, Tola's career has been shaped by a deep connection to her Nigerian heritage, discovered during her travels back to the African continent. This journey has profoundly influenced her design philosophy, creating a process tightly woven with history, culture, and a sense of place.
In Eastern and Southern Africa, safari lodges attract tourists from around the world wishing to witness the landscapes and fauna of the natural world. Usually situated in national parks and game reserves, their remote locations make for costly journeys and are therefore suitable for luxury stays. Often overlooked as an architectural typology, many lodges risk falling into the trap of being contextually insensitive or crudely mimicking vernacular building methods, resulting in pastiche. On the other hand, the safari lodge sits at the intersection of the man-made and natural worlds, bringing together rural dwellers and townfolk, wealth and poverty, wildlife and humans. Thus, it can be an opportunity to design with the highest social and environmental responsibility.
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 an era of people-centered urban planning, 15-minute cities, “eyes on the street,” and active public spaces, parking garages are often seen as the antithesis of contemporary urban ideals. But that was not always the case. If today they challenge architects and planners to reinvent them in pursuit of more sustainable mobility and more human cities, in the past they stood as witnesses to a radical transformation in how we move, inhabit, and perceive urban space. Once symbols of modernity, parking garages embodied the height of an age when the automobile was seen as a driving force of progress. This shift in meaning reveals them as much more than utilitarian structures — they are powerful reflections of the evolution of urbanism, technology, and social habits over the past two centuries.
Ciudad Cayalá, a privately developed, mixed-use community on the outskirts of Guatemala City, is often described as a "theme park" of white lime-washed walls, red tiles, and cobbled plazas. A closer examination, however, reveals a more complex urban narrative. Its significance, however, lies in its capacity to create a safe and well-managed public space, proposing a modern reinterpretation of historic urban principles that mark the region's architectural and urban heritage. Behind the Antigua-style façades lies an urban experiment: a modern re-engagement with architectural elements like arcades, courtyards, and open plazas, which propose a privately-managed public space as a solution to urban challenges in the region.
Like the famous Russian Matryoshka doll, opening a package often feels like uncovering endless layers. Inside a cardboard box, there might be molded Styrofoam, then several plastic air pillows, and finally, individual plastic wrapping around each piece. Even a small product can leave behind a trail of plastic waste far larger than its size. Now imagine this logic applied to a construction site where every component, every delivery of materials, often arrives wrapped in multiple layers of protection. What already seems excessive in retail becomes monumental when repeated daily on large construction projects.
Open architectural competitions have long been regarded as gateways for new ideas. They level the playing field by proposing a single call, a clear set of rules, and an evaluation based on the quality of the work, conducted anonymously. For organizers, like cities, institutions, or companies, they represent a way to gather relevant proposals in a transparent public forum, backed by a competent jury. Unsurprisingly, competitions have marked decisive moments in the history of the discipline, such as the Centre Pompidou competition in Paris, which brought Renzo Piano and Richard Rogers to prominence with their "inside-out building," or the one for Brazil's new capital, won by Lúcio Costa with the Pilot Plan that synthesized the city into two intersecting axes, interpreted as either an airplane or a cross.
So, why do competitions still matter in architecture today? Beyond their historic role in shaping iconic projects, they continue to serve as testing grounds for fresh ideas, talent, and innovation. In the following sections, we explore competitions from three angles: the motivations that keep architects returning to them, the reasons organizers continue to launch them, and a practical playbook of strategies to help you approach your next competition with clarity and purpose.
Peace of mind is essential when selecting tapware for a commercial project. As a global leader in premium architectural fixtures and fittings, ABI Interiors is committed to delivering sustainable, design-led solutions that meet architects' practical and creative needs across commercial, residential, and large-scale developments.
With an extensive range spanning premium, mid-market, and budget-conscious projects, architects can source the best tapware for their needs with ABI Interiors.
When Archigram published their fanatical vision for pneumatic cities and walking megastructures in the 1960s, they seemed to be designing buildings. Beneath the surface, the avant-gardeists were pushing culture through radical alternatives to lifestyles and forms of organizing in the city. Laboratories found themselves between the lines of copy on Domus or Casabella magazines, propositions doubling as blueprints for the civilizations to come. From Gropius's Bauhaus in 1919 to Arcosanti's desert experiments in the 1970s, architecture operated as a form of cultural prophecy. Built form was the argument. The drawing was the vision. Today, we live in a world that remarkably resembles what the starchitects of the 1900s imagined - modular construction, interconnected digital cities, and automated systems. Yet contemporary architecture rarely proposes culture with the same totalizing confidence.
Buildner has announced the results of its fourth annual Hospice - Home for the Terminally Ill international architecture ideas competition. This global call for ideas continues to explore how architecture can support end-of-life care with empathy, dignity, and contextual sensitivity. The competition invited architects and designers to move beyond clinical requirements and envision spaces that offer emotional warmth, social connection, and a profound sense of place.
Architecture—one of the few cultural artifacts made to be publicly lived with, preserved, and often capable of standing for centuries—contributes significantly to the cultural identity of places and people. Historically, buildings have expressed institutional attitudes, influence, and power; they are clear demonstrations of culture. Yet longevity complicates preservation: when a structure is rebuilt, repaired, or entirely reassembled, in what sense is it still the same building?
There's the classic Ship of Theseus puzzle from Plutarch. if a ship's planks are replaced one by one over time, is it still the same ship? Thomas Hobbes adds a twist—if the original planks are reassembled elsewhere, which ship is "the original"? The paradox tests what grounds identity: material fabric, continuous use and history, or shared recognition. In architecture and conservation, it reframes preservation as a choice among keeping matter, maintaining form and function, or sustaining the stories and practices that give a place meaning.
The island of Taiwan presents a varied natural and topographical context, characterized by a land area of 36,197 square kilometers and a high population density of 644 people per square kilometer. Its geological location, situated on the edges of the Eurasian and Philippine Sea plates, has resulted in a predominantly mountainous and rugged topography. While this forces the majority of the 23 million residents to inhabit large urban centers on the western coastal plains, the island maintains an active agricultural sector, with approximately 22% of its land allocated to farming.
Historically—like other cultural forms—architecture has been documented, shared, and promoted primarily through print. Books, journals, and magazines carried the discipline's arguments and images, and because architectural practice relies so heavily on visual communication, printed journals created a bridge between academic publications and commercial magazines. Through the postwar decades, beautifully produced volumes curated a collective point of view, signaling what the field broadly considered discussion-worthy or exemplary.
Across major cultural centers, a handful of publications shaped this discourse: Their perspectives were typically sophisticated, professional, and carefully edited—distilling an unruly global output into a small constellation of remarkable projects. The system arguably privileged certain practices and geographies, but it also amplified architecture for wider audiences. Buildings began to lodge in public imagination; cultural travel—journeys taken expressly to experience architecture—moved from rarity toward ritual.
The habit of sitting at the table and sharing a specific moment with other people has been present for centuries in the most diverse cultures. The Greek Symposium, Roman Convivium, Medieval Feasts and Banquets, and Parisian Salons are just a few examples of how this custom was historically built and has been relevant in social and political negotiations, intellectual discussions, and philosophical debates.
Commensality often serves as a ritual for bonding, negotiation, and celebrating important events. In many Spanish-speaking cultures, the stretch of time after the meal when the entire family stays seated and talks is so present that there is a word for it: sobremesa — literally translated as "upon the table" (though in Spanish it more accurately means "dessert" or "after-meal conversation"). But, despite often being associated with sharing a meal, the table can be considered a flexible platform open to many possibilities for appropriation and interaction.
While a book or piece of music can be easily set aside if it doesn't capture our interest, architecture is different. A building endures for decades, and it shapes the landscape and influences the lives of its occupants for years to come. This permanence brings with it a unique set of challenges: architects must design spaces that impact collective life, often under tight deadlines, limited budgets, and significant pressure. In addition to navigating complex regulations and coordinating construction, architects face the misconception that design is simple, or that anyone could do it. The constant balancing act between quality, cost, and speed often leads to sacrifices — whether in time, health, or the integrity of the project itself. This cycle not only wears down the profession but diminishes society's understanding of the true value of design.
The well-known "good, fast, and cheap" triangle is rarely resolved without the architect sacrificing their own time, health, or even the quality of the project. Repeated for decades, this equation fuels a cycle of wear that not only undermines the profession but also depreciates the value of design in society, even diminishing the role of such a beautiful and important discipline.
Across geographies and generations, architects are rethinking the idea of home, balancing personal expression, contextual sensitivity, and material clarity. These contemporary residential proposals, submitted by the ArchDaily community, reveal how the house continues to evolve as both an architectural statement and an intimate landscape for living. From the sculptural and futuristic to the grounded and vernacular, they explore how built form balances between identity, environment, and lifestyle in an increasingly complex world.
Known today for her poetic yet rigorous approach to architecture, Lina Ghotmeh has become one of the most compelling voices in contemporary design. Her work spans continents, from the British Museum's Western Range redesign in London to AlUla's Contemporary Art Museum, and includes landmark commissions such as the Serpentine Pavilion in London, Stone Garden in Beirut, the Bahrain Pavilion at the 2025 Expo Osaka, and the Estonian National Museum in Tartu, Estonia which she won the competition to design at just 25. Through a palimpsest of projects, Ghotmeh has established a distinctive architectural language that bridges memory and contemporary life. Wherever she builds, her process captures a constant dialogue between people, place, past and future.
