Honduran Architecture

Collective housing remains one of the most active areas for unbuilt architectural exploration, revealing how architects are rethinking domestic life, density, and shared living across different cultural and environmental contexts. In this curated Unbuilt edition, submitted by the ArchDaily community, the selected proposals investigate new forms of dwelling that span mobile units, vertical developments, adaptive reuse, and landscape-driven residential clusters. Rather than treating housing as a purely functional container, these projects position it as a social and spatial framework that shapes everyday life, community ties, and long-term urban resilience.

Comayagua is a city in central Honduras nestled in a valley with the same name. It holds a pivotal place in the nation's history, having served as its colonial and early republican capital for over 300 years. However, when the capital was relocated to Tegucigalpa in 1880, Comayagua's urban expansion halted, inadvertently preserving an ample and rich heritage. By the early 1990s, much of the city's architectural legacy was in a state of disrepair. Recognizing the urgent need to protect it, the governments of Honduras and Spain initiated a collaborative effort, with the objective of initiating a long-term restoration program to create a policy framework that would ensure the preservation of the city's historic center for years to come.

Founded in 2002, Solis Colomer Arquitectos has established a strong reputation over the past two decades, designing and constructing projects with both social and commercial impact across Latin America. With over 200 completed works, the firm specializes in institutional architecture with social impact and user-centered commercial architecture. Its mission is clear: to use architecture as a tool to dignify the human experience, especially for those in greatest need.

Understanding the temperature gradient in a building is essential in cold or temperate climates, where airtight enclosures and continuous insulation are used to prevent heat loss. However, this approach is not suitable for tropical areas like Central America, where the climate is marked by a consistent alternation between wet and dry seasons rather than four distinct ones. Factors such as proximity to the sea, elevation, and local topography influence microclimates across short distances, but high humidity remains a common challenge. Sealed, airtight walls with no ventilation can quickly become breeding grounds for mold, making the thermal strategies of temperate climates problematic. In response, local designers have developed alternative approaches that embrace, rather than resist, the outdoor environment, allowing airflow and evaporation to manage interior comfort.

How can architecture restore relevance to forgotten places? What dialogues can emerge when buildings and landscapes are treated not as blank slates, but as layers of memory, identity, and potential? For the Honduran architecture firm 24 Grados, these questions shape an approach rooted in adaptation, reuse, and contextual design. Their projects range from the restoration of old Spanish plazas and cultural centers to interventions in natural parks and coastal villages in Honduras. Each one is grounded in the belief that design can reweave relationships between people, place, and heritage.

When we think about cities, we often assume the orthogonal grid is the norm: neat, predictable, and rational. However, many urban areas around the world, notably those shaped by hills and uneven terrain, defy this convention. In cities like Lisbon, in Portugal orthogonal grids appear only in flatter zones such as Baixa, while surrounding areas like Alfama adapt organically to topography. These areas create more layered, irregular, and visually dynamic urban forms. Yerevan in Armenia, offers another urban example of this adaptation: the Cascade Complex transforms a steep hill into a terraced public space that connects different city levels while framing panoramic views. For other countries, this response to topography becomes even more critical. Cities like Tegucigalpa in Honduras or Valparaiso in Chile are defined by steep, irregular terrain that requires architects to engage deeply with the land. Designing in these contexts, especially for residential projects, demands technical adaptation and a contextual understanding that allows the slope to become a generative element in the design process.

In 1975, Honduras was under a military regime that had been in power for over a decade, led at the time by General Juan Alberto Melgar Castro. During this period, Tegucigalpa underwent several big and unprecedented changes. The influx of people from various parts of the country due to rural migration transformed the city from a compact urban area into an expanding metropolis. This unexpected growth prompted the government to implement a municipal development and planning scheme, a project that would define the city's future and the evolution of its old town. This article was developed with the collaboration of the Honduran architect Lisandro Calderón, who specializes in Urban Planning and is currently a professor at the Central American Technological University (UNITEC), located in Tegucigalpa, Honduras.

Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras, offers a dynamic blend of the country's architectural heritage with mountainous landscapes. Nonetheless, just like many other cities in Latin America, it faces significant urban challenges such as social class disparities and a fragmented urban fabric. In response, several design initiatives have emerged over the years to address those issues. One of the most prominent examples is the "Villa for Girls", designed by the Guatemalan firm Solis Colomer Arquitectos, which has now expanded to include a "Villa for Boys" since 2017. These projects are aimed at children from low-income families who often face the risk of being recruited by gangs. Together they build upon an architectural legacy that offers a safe, supportive environment to grow and learn.

The Latin American Architecture Biennial (BAL), which has gained significant relevance in the contemporary architectural scene, will celebrate its ninth edition next year. This meeting gathers emerging Latin American architecture studios in Pamplona, Spain, to share their work, fostering dialogue and debate about the current state of the discipline, as well as acting as a bridge between the Latin American continent and the Spanish context. In this edition, Costa Rica will be the guest country, accompanied by Honduras, El Salvador, Panama, Guatemala, and Nicaragua. As part of this invitation, there will be an exhibition and specific seminars dedicated to analyzing the situation of architecture in these countries.

A look at most of the cities within Latin America reveals striking commonalities across countries, from Mexico down to Argentina: most cities have a well-defined area known as "El Centro" (The Center), anchored by a main plaza (Plaza Mayor), flanked by a church on one side and key buildings like the city hall on another. This is no coincidence, as it can be traced back to an urban planning system established during the Spanish colonization of the Americas in the 17th and 18th centuries. It gave standardized guidelines for city design across its viceroyalties. Unlike French and English colonies, Spanish settlements adhered to regulations that contributed to the emergence of a shared urban identity, with cities displaying similar spatial logic and architectural cohesion despite differing scales and contexts.