The accelerating rise of a homogenized, worldwide aesthetic is forcing creators to confront a critical reality: design trends are effortlessly transcending geography, but local identity is paying the price. The fifth episode of the Room For Dreams podcast tackles a head-on investigation into whether a boundaryless market is quietly erasing design diversity. Recorded live at Milan Design Week 2026 in cooperation with INDX|GLOBAL, host Claire Broadka of designboom sits down with Sachi Gupta, Shilpi Sonar, Krithika Subrahmanian, and Sumit Dhawan to map out the reality of the borderless creator.
The Andes are often understood as a continuous mountain range, yet they encompass a wide range of climates and ecosystems. In Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, Colombia, and Chile, páramos, dry highlands, temperate valleys, and snow-covered landscapes can exist within relatively short distances of one another. As elevation changes, so do temperature, solar radiation, humidity, wind, vegetation, and topography, producing environments that require different ways of building.
Unlike many mountain regions where cold is the defining environmental condition, high-altitude environments in the Andes combine several climatic conditions at once. As elevation increases, solar radiation becomes more intense. Some regions remain humid throughout the year, while others experience prolonged dry seasons. In many places, steep terrain, snow, and changing weather patterns become additional factors that influence how buildings are designed.
The built environment has historically served humans as a mechanism of environmental control. Through our intellectual capacities and ability to organize, we have used buildings to actively influence and terraform the immediate context in which they are inserted, often treating geography, water, and ecosystems as resources to be extracted and managed. However, more and more, architecture is transitioning from exploiting physical and biological matter to actively collaborating with it. This shift demands that architects explore how buildings and their materials grow, transform, decay, and persist beyond human timelines. This thinking also serves as a starting point for the profession to reflect on how it influences the natural world, as well as the non-human species around it, creating networks and connections between humans, buildings, living organisms, and natural environments.
Nicolás Valencia speaks with Chilean architects Matías González Ulloa and Sofía Carrión Bobadilla, creators of Área Verde and leaders of Arquitectura Maulina, a digital platform focused on the architecture, territory, and reflections of Chile's inspiring Maule region.
https://www.archdaily.com/1080020/architecture-from-the-south-of-the-world-with-matias-gonzalez-and-sofia-carrionArchDaily Team
Nicolás Valencia speaks with Chilean architect Germán Valenzuela about the book Del territorio al detalle (Bifurcaciones), a selection of the most interesting contemporary architects in Latin America, from Al Borde to Rozana Montiel, including Mauricio Rocha, Inés Moisset, and Solano Benítez.
https://www.archdaily.com/1080013/german-valenzuela-the-global-does-not-exist-without-the-local-in-architectureArchDaily Team
Interior of the conventual Church of São Francisco de Assis, Salvador. Photo: Rodrigo Baeta
What happened at the conventual Church of Saint Francis of Assis in Salvador is yet another sad chapter in a process afflicting Brazilian cultural heritage, which has intensified in recent years with the fires at the National Museum in Rio de Janeiro, the Cinemateca, and the Museum of the Portuguese Language in São Paulo. Consequently, over the last few days, there has been intense debate regarding who is to "blame" for what occurred in Salvador, or who bore the "responsibility" to prevent this disaster, which also claimed the life of a young tourist: whether the church administrators, IPHAN (the National Institute of Historical and Artistic Heritage), or local cultural and heritage agencies. This is a difficult and indeed important issue to discuss, demanding careful investigation into the causes of the incident. Yet the debate must be broader, aimed above all at considering how we can prevent such events from happening: greater investment, greater appreciation of artistic and architectural heritage, stricter and more effective safety protocols, preventive conservation, and heritage education. In the days following the incident in Salvador, numerous colonial-period buildings were closed across the country under the claim that they, too, might collapse. Our heritage demands attention—in many cases, urgently.
"There is coconut candy and peteca Let the child play Today is a day of celebration The ibejada comes to bless." — Song for the erês
Streets come alive when they belong to the erês and die when they belong to cars. I dream of a project that I intend to put into practice when time allows: writing a manual of the fabulous rules of hopscotch, carniça, button football, preguinho, capture the flag, ring-around-the-rosy, lenço-atrás, slope soccer, dodgeball, and the variations of marbles. The title is already set: "The Loving Ecology of Street Games."
https://www.archdaily.com/1080017/the-city-and-childrenLuiz Antonio Simas
The 9th edition of the ArchDaily Brasil Building of the Year Award has arrived, and once again, we need your help to select the best architecture projects of the year. By voting, you become part of an unbiased network of jurors recognizing the most relevant projects published over the past year.
Over the next three weeks, the collective intelligence of our readers will filter through hundreds of projects from Portuguese-speaking countries—Brazil, Portugal, Mozambique, Angola, Guinea-Bissau, East Timor, Equatorial Guinea, Macau, Cape Verde, and São Tomé and Príncipe—published in 2024, selecting the best built works in the Lusophone world.
https://www.archdaily.com/1080014/archdaily-brasil-2025-building-of-the-year-award-voting-is-now-openArchDaily Team
At the FIESP Cultural Center in São Paulo, Nicolás Valencia sits down with Brazilian artist Giselle Beiguelman to discuss artificial intelligence, data centers, and coup plotters, drawing from her book Políticas da Imagem, her exhibition Venenosas, Nocivas e Suspeitas, and her research project Domingo no Golpe.
https://www.archdaily.com/1080011/giselle-beiguelman-brasilia-artificial-intelligence-and-poisonous-plantsArchDaily Team
Play, as a human activity, is a multidimensional practice: it stems from biology, is socially transmitted, and is situated within the architectural realm. Within this interrelation, while play introduces dynamics and narratives that invite us to explore alternative ways of inhabiting the world, architectural projects provide the physical and sensory support needed to unlock these possibilities, with play structures serving as the medium connecting the two. Consequently, a defining relationship emerges between play, the built environment, and its evolution over time.
https://www.archdaily.com/1080015/architecture-and-play-structures-how-are-play-spaces-evolving-in-urban-environmentsEnrique Tovar
University of Aberdeen New Library / schmidt hammer lassen architects. Photo courtesy of Schmidt Hammer Lassen Architects
Contrast can be widely used in architecture as a tool to highlight what we want to showcase. Do we want to emphasize an entrance? Make the project stand out from its surroundings? Turn our architecture into a landmark in the urban—or rural—landscape? Do we need to create symbolism? Ensure legibility? How do we achieve this? How do we "shine a light" on something?
Whatever we want to highlight is amplified through comparison—by means of an exaggerated, antagonistic contrast. Intentionally, we can intensify the use of darkness to emphasize a single light source, framing a staircase in a dramatic and theatrical way. Or we can introduce solid, opaque walls to make a light, transparent entrance stand out.
A bamboo structure rises as a space of convergence between technique, ancestry, and collective practice. OCO is the first work by Cambará Instituto, an organization that grew out of the Arquitetas Negras Project. Conceived during an artistic residency at Cerbambu, in Ravena (Minas Gerais), with support from re:arc institute, the project brought together ten black women architects who, over seven days of immersion in July this year, worked alongside master builder Lúcio Ventania to explore the constructive and symbolic potential of bamboo. The process culminated in the presentation of the work at the 14th International Architecture Biennial of São Paulo.
The experience sought to reconnect architectural practice with knowledges rooted in the body and the earth. The process encompassed every stage of production—from selecting and cutting the bamboo to curing and assembling it—resulting in a structure six meters high and five meters in diameter. Its design draws inspiration from the xossas of Benin and features straw from the African country at its top. The installation was also “clothed” with 220,000 beads, known as Our Lady’s Tears, handcrafted by forty elderly women in situations of social vulnerability who live in the same region where the residency took place—strengthening both community and economic bonds.
Colors can define atmospheres, shape spatial perception, and translate ways of being, memories, and collective affects. Consequently, understanding them has become an essential part of contemporary creative and constructive processes. Behind every shade lies a field of research that bridges sociology, psychology, aesthetics, and technology, connecting color to broader cultural shifts and revealing how it can serve as a tool for reading and expressing the present.
An architectural award serves as a legitimizing mechanism, indicating which approaches, materials, and strategies are beginning to take center stage in the discipline's discourse. By bringing together projects with different programs, scales, and constraints, these initiatives bring to light emerging priorities and directions in the field. Within this context, the Shaw Contract Design Awards have established themselves as a global recognition platform for interior design and a barometer of the transformations reshaping the discipline, prompting reflection on the role of design in building more responsible, inclusive, and sustainable environments.
Taking a deeper look at the interplay of light and shadow in architecture seems to be a recurring topic on the agenda of many professionals in the field. Spaces of light and darkness are conceived to enhance circulation and spatial directionality, as well as to highlight the colors, textures, and forms of specific architectural elements. That said, the impact of natural light on building facades reveals the need to develop strategies that support energy savings, improve the thermal and visual comfort of interior spaces, and promote the reduction of carbon emissions. Considering light as another material in architecture, in what ways could its power contribute to the architectural experience?
At the helm of architectural discourse on sacred architecture, attention almost always settles on the monument. Temples, mosques, monasteries, and churches dominate architectural histories, design criticism, and photography alike, becoming the physical symbols through which faith is understood. For millions of pilgrims across India, the most consequential architectural experience begins long before the shrine comes into view. It unfolds across mountain roads, river ghats, shaded streets, temporary camps, queue systems, bridges, water kiosks, medical stations, and countless ordinary pieces of infrastructure through which pilgrimage actually takes place. The architectural work of pilgrimage may lie less in the shrine itself than in the environments that allow millions of people to reach it.
First Prize Winner: Seeds in Forgotten Soil. Image Courtesy of Buildner
Buildner has announced the results of its Re-Form: New Life for Old Spaces, second edition, 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 a fundamental human right, inclusion requires that all people—regardless of their backgrounds, abilities, or circumstances—are recognized and respected, with equal access to the same resources and opportunities. For many people with disabilities and their caregivers, accessible washrooms still fail to provide what is most essential: a safe, private, and dignified place for assisted changing. While many facilities comply with ADA and ICC accessibility standards, conventional washroom layouts often do not accommodate users who require additional space, time, and support from caregivers. This gap has contributed to the growing adoption of adult changing facilities, which extend accessibility beyond conventional washroom requirements and respond to needs that standard fixtures cannot address.
Almost certainly, everyone has their own ritual when entering a pool. There are those who dive in without hesitation, those who start with their toes, those who swim for sport, and those who submerge themselves for pure pleasure. Private or shared, intense or contemplative, every experience with water takes place within an environment carefully constructed to receive it.
Architecture and water are of opposing natures. While one delimits and contains, the other insists on spreading, and it is from this tension between solid and liquid that aquatic centers emerge. In these buildings, the presence of water transforms everything around it. Light fragments into shimmering reflections, sound acquires a distinct reverberation, and temperature and humidity define the atmosphere of the spaces, while materials and structural systems are constantly put to the test. Yet their uniqueness is not merely technical.
Seeking to reflect on the contemporary city invariably runs up against the limitations imposed by the methods of the Modern Movement. Classical sciences and their deterministic methods, which guided—and still guide—the urban planning of this era, describe world phenomena through strict causal relationships and, consequently, define them by reductive universal laws that exclude contradictions and uncertainties. The frequent result of these perspectives is an idealized, mechanistic world that denies the complex, actual nature of phenomena such as cities.
https://www.archdaily.com/1078812/the-illusion-of-control-in-the-contemporary-cityPedro H. N. V. Santos
NUS School of Design & Environment / Serie Architects + Multiply Architects + Surbana Jurong. Image Courtesy of Serie Architects + Multiply Architects + Surbana Jurong
This article is part of our new Opinion section, a format for argument-driven essays on critical questions shaping our field.
Before architecture students become authors of space, they are subjected to one. For years, they work inside a building that teaches without announcing itself as a teacher. It organizes their exhaustion, their ambition, their visibility, their solitude, their friendships, their sense of scale, and their relationship to judgment. Long before a student can articulate a position on architecture, the school has already offered one in its implicit built environment.
This is not to suggest that buildings determine architects. The influence is slower and less complete than that. A school building operates more like a hidden curriculum: a spatial discipline that works alongside faculty, syllabi, institutional culture, and student life. It teaches through access and obstruction, program adjacencies, daylight exposures, and scale. It produces habits of attention before it produces explicit beliefs.
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.
An informal vendor selling balloons along La Séptima in the Plaza de Bolívar. "Bogota, Colombia" by szeke is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0
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.
