Park Hill, a large social housing complex in Sheffield, stands out as one of the most ambitious examples of modernist architecture in post-war Britain. Designed in 1961 by Jack Lynn and Ivor Smith, its innovative concept of "streets in the sky" aimed to combine high-density housing with the community spirit of traditional neighborhoods. By the late 20th century, the complex had fallen into severe neglect, marked by social problems and structural degradation that undermined both its functionality and reputation. Gradually, Park Hill became synonymous with the failure of modernism, carrying a heavy social stigma and marginalizing its residents.
Starting in the 2000s, significant efforts began to reverse this narrative through a two-phase revitalization process. The first phase, led by Urban Splash in collaboration with the architectural firms Hawkins\Brown and Studio Egret West, focused on preserving and enhancing the building's historical elements while introducing modern interventions to create a livable, functional, and attractive space. This stage demonstrated the potential of adaptive reuse in revitalizing communities and reclaiming architectural icons. The second phase of the renovation, carried out by the firm Mikhail Riches, sought to build on this initial work by introducing new elements that deepened the connection between the existing spaces and contemporary living. With an approach that combined historical sensitivity and architectural innovation, Mikhail Riches continued the process of transforming Park Hill into a landmark example of how modernist architecture can be adapted to meet current needs without losing its original identity.
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Second Prize Winner: Branch. Image Courtesy of Buildner
Buildner has announced the results of the Howard Waterfall Retreat architecture competition, an international design challenge developed in close collaboration with the Howard Family Trust. The competition invited architects and designers to propose a multi-generational family retreat set within a privately owned, forested landscape in Northwestern Pennsylvania, centered on the dramatic presence of Howard Falls and the surrounding gorge.
Rather than prescribing a singular architectural solution, the brief emphasized a careful dialogue between architecture and nature. Participants were asked to consider how a retreat could balance shared and private living, respond to steep topography and water systems, and integrate sustainably within a sensitive ecological setting. The project also called for an interpretation of family legacy, encouraging designers to acknowledge the history of the site and the original summer cottage while imagining a retreat capable of evolving across generations.
Heritage restoration has always been an intricate process that requires delicate balancing between preserving the integrity of historic materials while integrating contemporary techniques that can enhance accuracy, efficiency, and resilience. With the restoration process of Parliament Hill in Ottawa, Canada's capital city, this intersection of tradition and technology is now on full display. The East Block, built in 1865, offers a compelling example of how digital tools can support the efforts of heritage restoration and contribute to a centuries-old craft such as stone carving.
In a global landscape marked by accelerated change, 2025 emerged as a decisive year for architecture—not only because of the major events that animated the international circuit, but above all because of the voices that stood out within them. From the Venice Architecture Biennale to Expo Osaka, pavilions and installations from the Global South ceased to function as mere exhibition gestures and instead asserted themselves as territories of memory, resistance, and imagination, articulating narratives that expand the horizons of contemporary architectural debate.
Across these works, tradition and future move side by side: ancestral materials reappear in reimagined forms, historical wounds are given sensitive expression, and social urgency is translated into proposals that challenge established ways of building and inhabiting the world.
India's built environment has, in recent years, gained visibility through a growing number of transformative architectural and infrastructure projects. Cities and towns scale faster each year, despite looming concerns around climate and economic volatility. The nation has shown resilience in balancing rapid urbanization with resource constraints; this is no small feat. India's architectural practices rarely rely on novelty alone; they are built on systems that have existed for centuries. Through ArchDaily's Building for Billions, recurring stories have highlighted the social intelligence and adaptive capacity embedded in these practices, revealing an architecture that operates less as isolated form and more as infrastructure.
Living in residences designed by renowned modern architects is a dream sought after by many. Projects that have become iconic are major attractions for new residents who value both the authorial signature and history of the building, as well as the innovative architectural solutions that have contributed to the prominence of such projects.
As for the work of Oscar Niemeyer, fluidity and flexibility may best express his plans and typologies. These features provide great potential for the architects working on renovations within these buildings. São Paulo’s Copan Building is a prime example: its 1160 units, spread over six blocks, vary from 25m² studio apartments to larger units of over 150m². Niemeyer’s extensive portfolio includes other residential landmarks in São Paulo — like the Montreal, California, and Eiffel buildings — plus others in Belo Horizonte and Brasília, even reaching as far as Berlin with the Interbau Apartment House.
Scandinavia is shaped by environmental conditions that test both human endurance and architectural ingenuity, with long winters defined by limited daylight, low sun angles, deep snowfall, and cold winds that transform everyday movement, gathering, and habitation into deliberate acts. In this context, architecture is never neutral, and hospitality is never incidental. Buildings that welcome visitors across cities, forests, and coastlines must respond directly to darkness and cold, not by denying them, but by creating interior worlds that offer orientation, warmth, and psychological relief. The act of welcoming in Scandinavia is therefore inseparable from the climate, grounded in the understanding that shelter, light, and human presence are fundamental resources in Arctic environments.
In much of China, concrete remains the dominant construction material. Despite growing concerns over its environmental impact, concrete continues to align with the priorities of many developers and clients—it is fast, cost-effective, and highly durable. As a result, most building types in China still rely heavily on concrete. This reliance is further reinforced by China's position as the world's largest producer of Portland cement. A deeply entrenched supply chain, rooted in raw material manufacturing and economic infrastructure, ensures that concrete remains the default choice in the construction industry.
Yet historically, Chinese architecture was built upon a rich tradition of timber construction. The Forbidden City is a prime example: not only is it emblematic of China's architectural heritage, but it also remains one of the largest and best-preserved collections of ancient wooden structures in the world. This legacy prompts an important question: does timber construction have a meaningful future in China's contemporary building industry?
As Syria is emerging from over a decade of conflict at the time of writing, it is an opportunity to rediscover its architectural gems. Just to the north of the country's principal port city of Latakia is a Modernist creation that is the Center for Marine Research. Its pyramidal structure is situated on a prominent headland surrounded by sea on three sides. To the east is a bay with hotels and beaches while to the north and west is the open Mediterranean Sea reaching Turkey and Cyprus beyond. Despite its importance both as a research institution and as a piece of architecture, it lies abandoned and isolated today.
Generative AI (Gemini / Google DeepMind). Concept: Eduardo Souza / ArchDaily
Few plants have accompanied humanity as closely as cannabis. Used for millennia to make textiles, paper, and medicines, it has quietly shaped everyday life and built environments alike. Hemp, its non-psychoactive variety, is one of the earliest cultivated crops and a material of remarkable versatility: strong, breathable, and renewable. From ropes and sails to insulation and biocomposites, hemp’s fibers have been helping humans build for thousands of years.
Across recent years, architectural discourse has been shaped by the emergence of new voices, rediscovered territories, and a growing commitment to shared forms of knowledge. These concerns remain fully present in 2025 as ongoing debates that continue to gain density and nuance. Questions of who produces architecture, from which contexts, and under what conditions remain central, increasingly informed by practices that operate collectively, across disciplines, and beyond singular authorship.
This continuity is reflected in how architecture is understood less as a finished object and more as an ongoing process embedded in social, cultural, and environmental systems. Discussions around agency, participation, and knowledge production persist, alongside sustained attention to rural, peripheral, and historically marginalized contexts. Rather than privileging a single scale or geography, architecture is approached as a practice that moves between territories, acknowledging the unequal conditions that shape how spaces are designed, built, maintained, and inhabited.
In contemporary architecture, commercial spaces have become more than points of sale; they are stages where identity, image, and experience converge. Stores, showrooms, and branded interiors often operate as laboratories where architects experiment with form, material, and light, translating corporate narratives into spatial experiences. In this context, the architect emerges as a mediator of desire, shaping atmospheres that guide perception, evoke emotion, and subtly influence behavior. This role reveals a complex intersection between design and capitalism: the creation of spaces that sell not only products, but also aspirations, lifestyles, and cultural meaning. By transforming commerce into an architectural performance, these projects invite reflection on how the discipline negotiates its agency in a world where visibility and image have become as essential as function.
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First Prize Winner: Edge of presence. Image Courtesy of Buildner
Buildner has announced the results of its Re-Form: New Life for Old Spaces, an international ideas competition examining the adaptive reuse of small-scale existing buildings. The competition invited architects and designers to propose transformations of used, abandoned, or overlooked structures with an approximate footprint of 250 square meters, located anywhere in the world. With no fixed site or program, participants were encouraged to explore alternatives to demolition and new construction through reuse strategies grounded in contemporary social and environmental concerns.
As an open-format competition, Re-Form foregrounded sustainability, feasibility, and community impact over formal or typological constraints. Submissions ranged from precise urban insertions to more speculative rural interventions, reflecting a broad range of approaches to working with existing fabric. Many projects focused on how limited, often marginal spaces could be reactivated to support new forms of collective use while responding to material, climatic, and ecological conditions.
Across Latin America, renovation has become less about preservation alone and more about responding to changing ways of living. Rather than freezing buildings in time, many contemporary projects work with existing structures to adapt them to new domestic routines, social dynamics, and spatial needs. Through strategic changes in materials, composition, color, and light, these interventions reinterpret everyday spaces while maintaining a strong connection to their original context.
In this process, houses and apartments become sites of transformation where flow, continuity, and shared spaces are carefully reconsidered. Renovation operates as a precise architectural tool, one that prioritizes natural light, openness, and flexibility to support daily life as it evolves. Instead of imposing new forms, these projects repurpose what is already there, aligning spatial decisions with the habits and rituals of those who inhabit them.
Ellisse, location: Armando Cose, Designer: Philippe Malouin
Communicating an idea using only the essentials is a far greater challenge than it often appears. From Japanese haikus to the refined sculptures of Constantin Brâncuși, many artistic expressions have sought to condense the maximum meaning with the minimum of elements. This economy of form is not a sign of scarcity, but of intensity: every stroke, every word, every silence gains weight. There is something intrinsically appealing in what presents itself as simple and well-resolved, whether it is a text that wastes no words, a tennis player who moves with purposeful gestures, or a melody that is both direct yet unexpectedly profound.
That same principle, which transcends various artistic languages, resonates deeply in contemporary design. When reduced to the essential, furniture or everyday objects reveal a form of beauty that arises from precision and transcends their function. This is exemplified by HUM, the new collection of taps developed by designer Philippe Malouin for QuadroDesign, in which a simple gesture is transformed into a complete language.
It is a vast rural expanse spread across the planet, assuming different expressions depending on context—from Asian rice fields to African agricultural settlements, from small European farms to the large estates and agro-extractive communities of the Americas. Yet, beneath this plurality, is there something that unites them? And, more importantly, how might architecture illuminate this quiet thread?
This year's selection of Best Latin American Houses brings together both renovations and ground-up projects, covering reinterpretations of local construction techniques and innovative architectural responses. The works are set in a wide range of contexts, from dense urban environments to rural and coastal landscapes.
In 2025, India's most consequential design projects unfolded largely out of sight. While public attention gravitated toward museums, cultural landmarks, and visually arresting façades, the architecture that most decisively shaped daily life existed underground, at the city's edges, or inside secured compounds few citizens would ever enter. Sewage networks were rebuilt, flood tunnels bored beneath dense neighborhoods, substations lifted above floodplains, and data centers multiplied across peri-urban landscapes. These were not peripheral works of engineering; they were the spatial systems that allowed Indian cities to remain functional through record heatwaves, erratic monsoons, and accelerating urban growth.
Bratislava, the rapidly developing capital of Slovakia—located in the heart of Europe—continues to strengthen its presence on the European architectural map. As a growing hub of contemporary design—already home to projects by Zaha Hadid Architects, Massimiliano & Doriana Fuksas, Stefano Boeri, Studio Egret West, and Snøhetta—the city has now reached another important milestone: an international architectural and urban design competition has been announced to shape the future of Zváračák, one of the last major brownfield sites near the city center.
In 2025, the architectural field has been marked by a dense calendar of exhibitions, a measured slowdown in construction across multiple regions, and a period of reflection that scrutinizes the impact of intelligence (artificial and natural)—both on professional practice and workplace culture, as well as its use as a pedagogical tool. Over this calendar year, ArchDaily has published more than 30 interviews in a range of formats—Q&As, in-person conversations, video features, and more. These exchanges have engaged themes of sustainability and nature, housing and urban development, AI and intelligence, adaptive reuse and public life, and have closely followed major exhibition platforms including the Venice Biennale, Expo 2025 Osaka, Milan Design Week, Concéntrico, and others.
Amid countless questions, reflections, and debates about rethinking what a hotel can be, current hotel architecture faces growing complexities that span user experience, environmental responsibility, and the relationship with local context. Contemporary hotel design shows a clear—and increasingly prominent—intention to blend seamlessly and harmoniously with its surroundings, building a sense of identity that responds to local cultures, traditions, and character. The interconnection with nature, along with the reinterpretation of hotels as spaces for engaging with their surroundings, creates a direct relationship that expands their boundaries beyond the history and origins of the many practices that have shaped—and continue to define—their local characteristics and philosophy of life.
In a time when many hotels are designed to look like destinations, the real challenge is to design hotels that grow from their destination. But how can large-scale urban projects be integrated into sensitive landscapes without overpowering them? How is it possible to build with density while preserving a sense of intimacy and create identity in places that already carry strong local character?
This article is part of our new Opinion section, a format for argument-driven essays on critical questions shaping our field.
Who designs architecture today? In a professional landscape increasingly defined by collaborative workflows, generative software, and distributed teams, the figure of the architect as a singular creative author feels both anachronistic and inadequate. This article argues that architectural authorship is no longer an individual act, but a collective and distributed condition shaped by institutions, technologies, and shared forms of labor. The transition from individual to collective authorship is not simply a consequence of larger offices or digital tools; it signals a deeper structural shift in how architecture is produced, communicated, and validated.
