Promoting homeownership as an investment strategy is a risky proposition. No financial advisor would recommend taking on debt to put such a large portion of your savings into a single financial asset, whatever it may be, as it represents a major concentration of risk.
Worse still, this risk is not random: it falls most heavily on low-income buyers, who receive worse financing terms and whose neighborhoods are systematically more likely to have lower or even declining home values, leading to devastating consequences for the racial wealth gap.
Excerpt from a comic strip. Original work by Bárbara Garcia Souza Bravo
TEIA re(p)resents the city of São Paulo through a comic book narrative. The characters were developed as protagonists based on an empirical selection of twelve neighborhoods key to the city's history, whose residents served as the foundation for the character archetypes in the script. The graphic novel format provided the ideal medium to develop a language that allows for spatial thinking about the urban context and the observation of human relationships within this created and illustrated universe, highlighting its role as a communicative medium. Beyond experiencing and understanding the neighborhoods, the project aimed to explore the notion of belonging. The in situ experience in the neighborhoods and spontaneous conversations with residents—who served as references for the protagonists—allowed the narrative to reflect on the difference between being (of a place) and existing (in a place) in Brazil's most populous and diverse metropolis.
Shortly before taking office in January 2020, Mayor Claudia López committed to redesigning a major arterial road in Bogotá, aiming to transform it into a green corridor for active and sustainable mobility. To do so, the mayor also pledged to promote a planning process with broad public participation—a rather daunting task in a city of nine million people.
Known since the 16th century as Calle Real, Avenida Séptima is widely considered Bogotá's most important thoroughfare, stretching 23 kilometers and traversing the city's eastern zone. It is perhaps the only road that runs through every income bracket in the municipality, from the poorest to the very wealthy. It is also the most hotly debated space in the Colombian capital.
In a past life, I completed a master's degree in semiotics, where I learned to pay attention to the words we choose. For example, open any book on Brazilian architecture and you will find subtitles that help organize our built environment chronologically: Indigenous Architecture, Colonial Brazilian Architecture, Imperial Brazilian Architecture, Brazilian Modern Architecture, Contemporary Architecture in Brazil. Notice the subtle difference: the word *Brazil*, which names this land, appears in every post-colonial period, but is absent from the one representing the original way of building in this place.
To live in the city and to experience the city is to be open to any and every event. Within a single day, we pass through different places and spatialities, with distinct compositions and tempos. No day is like another, as we are in constant motion, facing a random combination of events that affect both objects and subjects—shaping the spaces we traverse and the perceptions we experience. In light of this reflection, a discussion emerges on the effects of architecture and urbanism beyond the visual realm, linked to the individual's sense of belonging to space and based on urban form and dynamics. How can we grasp the effects of the object on the subject and vice versa? What is the materialized reading of the city as a reflection of societal actions?
https://www.archdaily.com/1127912/urban-fabrics-sao-paulo-society-as-a-reflection-and-extensionCamila Yumi de Campos
As an overwhelmingly hegemonic field in which cisgender white men have historically held, and continue to hold, the majority of prestigious positions—from the leadership of major firms to international accolades like the Pritzker Prize—architectural practice has traditionally rendered invisible the careers and professional experiences of many women architects.
In recent years, public agencies, architects, and urban planners worldwide have increasingly debated the future of cities, reflecting on the directions contemporary urban planning must take to address a complex web of urban and social challenges. However, one question continues to dominate professional discourse: how can we create spaces capable of improving quality of life and health in the public realm without relying on large-scale infrastructure projects?
In response, several movements have emerged, attempting to implement simple actions that foster the development of “new” public spaces to meet the immediate demand for high-quality urban environments. These initiatives suggest that future cities will become increasingly inviting, championing a closer relationship between pedestrians and the street. Examples of these interventions include the implementation of parklets; the temporary closure of avenues to vehicular traffic, opening them to pedestrians and turning them into open areas like temporary urban parks; the installation and expansion of bike lanes; urban vertical gardens; and pocket parks.
Urban Design and Road Works Manual. Image: Courtesy of WRI Brasil
Cities are constantly changing. When guided by biased or outdated premises, changes to urban spaces tend to imprint these mistakes onto the territory. However, when guided by a shared vision that prioritizes safety and active mobility, these interventions can guide the transformation of the city into a more democratic, welcoming, walkable, and safe place. The new São Paulo Urban Design and Road Works Manual points toward exactly this kind of city.
https://www.archdaily.com/1128278/5-innovations-in-sao-paulos-new-urban-design-and-road-works-manualDiogo Lemos, Andressa Ribeiro e Fernando Corrêa
Paraty, Rio de Janeiro. Photo by Angus McIntyre. License CC BY-NC 4.0
The period between the 16th century and the early 19th century in Brazil, known as Colonial Brazil, began when the Portuguese invaded Brazilian territory and imposed the colonization process. In architecture and urbanism, this process established a series of standards that, over the centuries, shaped the country's architecture and cities.
With the arrival of the Portuguese, the first settler installations emerged in Brazilian territory, characterized primarily by their precariousness and inability to defend against other invaders. Following the Portuguese Crown's decision to divide the land into hereditary captaincies administered by donatary captains, villages and urban settlements began to emerge.
As previously explained in an earlier article, the concept of modulation in architecture refers to adapting a design to a defined module, whether based on a specific baseline measurement or the dimensions of a given building material.
Closely linked to this concept, yet grounded in other definitions, modular construction relies on the study and planning of transportable prefabricated modules assembled on-site. Consequently, these structures are typically completed faster and more efficiently than traditional ones.
In 1979, Rosalind Krauss published her classic article Sculpture in the Expanded Field in the journal October, in which she identifies a certain fraying of boundaries in the field of sculpture, “showing how the meaning of a cultural term can be extended to include almost anything” [1]. The critique, specifically directed at artistic work produced between the 1960s and 1970s, was used 26 years later, in 2005, as the foundation for the publication of Architecture’s Expanded Field by Anthony Vidler.
Anyone working as an urban planner or interested in urban issues has undoubtedly heard—extensively—about the "Smart Cities" movement. The premise is that there is nothing in cities that the use of data (especially "big data") or technology cannot solve. This has led to a series of claims about how we can address challenges as complex as housing, traffic, and inequality simply by creating more elaborate models based on big data or deploying new forms of technology.
Urban resilience was put to the test as the pandemic swept quickly and drastically through cities. Limiting movement, contact, and access to public spaces was the most effective strategy for containing the virus. However, the city's infrastructure, compounded by a lack of emergency public policies, proved far from resilient. This vulnerability was exposed as a large portion of the population was forced to continue commuting long distances on public transit to work in essential services, and as the physical and mental health of residents suffered from a lack of access to safe spaces for physical activity—underscoring the city's precarious supply of public spaces.
Two months and eleven days after the start of 2020, the World Health Organization (WHO) declared Covid-19 a pandemic. To contain the spreading threat, citizens and authorities had to devise collective strategies and alter their behavior. This battle between virus and humanity also called into question the very existence and preservation of one of humanity's most important creations: cities.
As the symbol of an environment defined by casual encounters among different people and diverse experiences, those governing urban areas were challenged to convince—and, in some cases, force—their populations to stay home as the primary measure to contain transmission.
https://www.archdaily.com/1128408/can-the-pandemic-scenario-lead-to-walkable-citiesLeticia Sabino e Louise Uchôa
When we think of the residential designs of Italian architect Lina Bo Bardi, the immediate image that comes to mind is her private residence in São Paulo (1951)—more precisely, the image of its glazed social pavilion, captured from a low angle. This perspective further dramatizes the contrasting relationship between that light, suspended orthogonal volume and the steep natural slope of the terrain.
I would venture to say that no other work of Brazilian architecture is as well-known from a single photograph. This image, which has illustrated nearly every publication on the architect since the building's completion nearly 70 years ago, and which indeed justifies its famous moniker, the “Glass House,” exposes the unequivocal modern condition of this project—or, at least, the portion revealed by the angle of this celebrated photograph: a transparent, prismatic volume suspended on slender pillars set back from the edge of the floor slab and, consequently, free-standing within the elevated space.
Medellín, Colombia. Photo by Milo Miloezger via Unsplash
According to architect Alejandro Echeverri, Medellín has successfully promoted the idea that it has undergone a process of profound inclusion and urban transformation. Every year, the city receives countless visitors who, according to the Colombian architect, seem more convinced than the residents themselves that the city has found answers to its socio-spatial challenges. Working with the National University of Colombia and families affected by the armed conflict between late 2014 and early 2016, I observed the nuances between the progress the city achieved through direct intervention in vulnerable territories and the challenges that persist alongside rising socioeconomic inequality.
How do you explain the importance of hiring an architect to the general public? In the thirteenth episode of Betoneira, the guest is Stephanie Ribeiro, who shares how she tackled this challenge when given the opportunity to host the show Decore-seon GNT. The conversation revolves around the hits and misses of communication between architects and clients.
The word heritage (or patrimônio in Portuguese) comes from the Latin “patrimonium”, a combination of the words pater (father) and monium (a suffix indicating condition, state, or action). This etymology reveals the term's connection to the concept of inheritance—that which is passed down from generation to generation.
Once understood as an individual and private concept, over time – more precisely during the interwar period –, the concept of heritage acquired a broader scope, eventually being applied to various fields.
The Indigenous Peoples Memorial was conceived as an integral part of the revitalization project for Parque das Hortênsias, a former zoo in Taboão da Serra. The timber-structured pavilion pays homage to the indigenous architectures and cultures of Brazil through their organic ways of settling, caring, being, and existing.
In 2016, by mayoral decree, the park ceased to function as a zoo, and its animals were carefully relocated. The Municipal Government then designated that in 2019 this 48,000-square-meter public facility—featuring lush forest, natural springs, and water bodies—would undergo a meticulous revitalization process.
https://www.archdaily.com/1128016/indigenous-peoples-memorial-in-hortensias-park-a-space-of-reclamation-connection-and-learningTalitha Nogueira e Andréa Muscat
Did you know that, in almost every part of the world, people build their homes every day without the help of architects and engineers?
Common in Brazil's peripheral areas, self-construction is an option for those who want their own customized home without facing unwanted bureaucracy or long-term debt. However, the choice to build one's own residence without the technical support of engineers and architects is often accompanied by a lack of information, which can lead to irregularities, poor construction quality, and risks for the residents.
Not all pandemic-response bike lanes are built equal. Photo: Carlos Felipe Pardo/Flickr
When the Covid-19 pandemic broke out, concerns over virus transmission on public transit prompted many to opt for alternative mobility options—chiefly, cycling. Bicycles gained popularity for both recreation and transport, a trend especially evident in the United States, Mexico, Colombia, Germany, and France. In France, Germany, and the United States, the weekly average of bicycle use increased by 4%, 7%, and 20% respectively compared to 2019 figures.
https://www.archdaily.com/1127898/from-emergency-to-permanent-transforming-cycling-infrastructure-beyond-the-pandemicCamilla Zanetti, Alejandro Schwedhelm e Claudia Adriazola-Steil
International Women's Day has been celebrated worldwide since it was officially recognized by the UN in the 1970s. Broadly speaking, this date symbolizes our historical struggle as women to achieve equality with men.
In the spirit of these celebrations, as a woman and an architect, I wanted to present an overview of women's professional trajectory in architecture—particularly in Brazil—highlighting the discrepancies that persist in the field to reinforce the struggle that International Women's Day represents. This is both a call to action and a personal reflection, as well as an appeal for collaboration, urging everyone to recognize their own position and, above all, our place as women in shaping our country's architectural landscape.
While the corporate world debates remote work, Amazon has decided to double down on physical offices. Earlier this year, the company announced plans for its new headquarters in Arlington, Virginia. The building complex will be anchored by a spiraling structure more than 100 meters tall, dubbed the Helix. In addition to 260,000 square meters of office space, there will also be 10,000 square meters of public space, including an amphitheater, a market, restaurants, and plazas. The choice of location, in the heart of the Washington, D.C. metropolitan area, stands in contrast to companies like Apple and Facebook, which built their closed-off headquarters in the suburbs.
Throughout the 113 years of celebrating Japanese immigration, discussions surrounding Japanese culture have gained considerable attention. As Brazil is home to the largest Japanese community outside the archipelago, the country's connection to Japanese cultural expressions is clear. Many cities settled by Japanese immigrants preserve their Japanese history and culture to this day; consequently, the architectural field has consolidated itself primarily through buildings that represent the political and social dimensions of Japanese immigration, fused with new technologies and construction methods.