According to a UN-Habitat report, in 2013 approximately one billion people lived in informal settlements, and this number is expected to double by 2030. Seen as the result of policy, legislative, and housing provision failures—at both national and urban levels—informal settlements cannot be understood merely as a byproduct of demographic explosion and globalization.
The orthogonal grid is the manifestation of a principle of order, a condition reinforced by the repetition of elements that express the structural rationality embedded in an aesthetic system. There is also a sense of freedom celebrated by decoupling structure from walls which, combined with pragmatic efficiency, keeps structural grids a constant presence in buildings of various scales both in Brazil and around the world.
In technical terms, structural grids are composed of linear elements—specifically beams—situated on a single plane to form a mesh capable of resisting structural loads. Typically, they feature regular spacing crossing at right angles, with dimensions that vary depending on the material used.
The year 2020 brought with it a whirlwind of challenges, calling many aspects of daily life into question. Marked by the pandemic, we all had to reinvent ourselves in some way to weather this unprecedented moment. It was no different for the city. COVID-19, like other infectious diseases (the Black Death, the Spanish flu, etc.), laid bare the relationship between its spread and urbanization. This is an easy analysis to make when data shows that the spread of the virus has been far greater in large urban centers.
In this regard, the health crisis has sparked discussions about the urbanization model to which our cities are subjected—a model of dispersed sprawl that prioritizes automobile mobility. Wilson Ribeiro dos Santos, a professor at the Faculty of Architecture and Urbanism at PUC-Campinas, in an article co-authored with Sidney Piocchi Bernardini and Gabriela Celani, states that this urbanization model—where commerce and services are concentrated in the city center, while strictly residential areas and gated communities are located on the periphery—ended up accelerating the spread of the virus. This is because people from all parts of the city must travel daily to the same central area to work, study, visit the doctor, shop, and so on.
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.
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.
Designing spaces below ground level is always a major challenge, particularly regarding lighting and ventilation. However, creative solutions make it possible to create welcoming, airy subterranean spaces, such as the use of perforated panels to bring light into Casa K or even the strategic implementation of a glass-bottomed reflecting pool on the ground floor, allowing natural light to reach the basement of Jardim do Sol House.
In primitive huts thousands of years ago, humans used animal skins and tree branches to build their shelters—the very same materials used to protect their bodies from the elements. From clothing to housing, these textile elements have accompanied human history, evolving alongside technology and securing a place in architectural production that goes far beyond membrane structures made of polyester/PVC and canvas. Today, they can be seen in other applications such as facade panels, interior partitions, openwork canopies, and more.
In Jacques Tati's classic film *Mon Oncle* (1958), the house—as the scenographic embodiment of the "machine for living"—is the protagonist. Its technological devices, occasionally untameable, dictate the rules. The homeowner, Madame Arpel, is a typical technocentrist, marveling at the technology surrounding her and believing it to be the solution to all her daily problems. In contrast to Madame Arpel is her brother, Mr. Hulot, who arrives for a visit and struggles to cope with all this innovation. Throughout his stay, we are introduced to a house that proves to be highly complex, while simultaneously denying the user any control.
Glass elements have long since moved beyond their most common applications—windows, mirrors, shower enclosures—and taken on other roles within interior design. Frequently used as partitions to visually expand spaces, glass also conveys lightness and sophistication, serving as a physical barrier that nevertheless allows natural light to filter through.
Within its wide range of possibilities, different levels of transparency can be selected based on the functionality of each space. Double-glazed clear glass, for example, improves acoustic performance and is therefore frequently specified for commercial offices, enabling physical and acoustic separation while maintaining a visual connection between different workstations.
Before stamps and digital printing, wallpaper was a luxury item and a status symbol, as every design had to be hand-painted by artisans. As a symbol of wealth, it emerged to replace tapestries and paintings in 16th-century European homes. In Brazil, for instance, wallpaper only became economically viable in the 1930s, and its widespread popularization was only realized in the 1960s.
“From the problem of locomotion derive all other problems of urbanization.” It was in 1882 that the Spanish urbanist Arturo Soria y Mata made this assertion, and in response to it, created and implemented the concept of the linear city. Based on a functionalist doctrine, this city model abandons traditional structures such as squares and blocks, subordinating the design to circulation paths in its most rational spatial configuration: the straight line.
Forecasts for the future are alarming—at least, that is what the recently published 2021 IPCC report from the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (a UN body) shows. According to the document, human-induced climate change is irrefutable and will worsen in the coming decades without concerted efforts to reverse the trend, warning that warming of 1.5°C to 2°C will be surpassed in the very near future.
Water tanks are vital components of any building due to their role in the health, safety, and comfort of occupants. Their primary function is to guarantee supply regardless of temporary municipal water cuts, making them increasingly essential during times of water crises.
The Thames, the Danube, the Seine, the Nile, the Hudson—all of these names immediately evoke specific cities. This is because discussing the history of urban planning inherently means exploring the relationship between the city and the river, as waterways are fundamental natural elements around which many cities were founded. This is primarily due to the utilitarian nature of water bodies, which, in addition to defining—and consequently protecting—cities, provided water supply and served to transport raw materials and goods. The river, therefore, functioned as an urban backbone, fostering activity along its banks and driving economic and social development.
Sinuous models, sharp curves, geometrically complex shapes. When discussing parametric architecture, these are likely the first images that come to mind. And with good reason. As a design approach, using parameters in the creative process has enabled the creation of striking forms at the intersection of digital technology and construction.
Through immense Greek columns, the door centered under the pediment invites one to enter either a temple or a home. The sense of smallness is undeniable. From north to south, this is a recurring scene: no upper-middle-class neighborhood escapes a neoclassical building.
To reach the designs we know today, bathtubs have taken on countless forms. From Greek public baths and Zen Japanese ofuros to 18th-century cast-iron tubs and sophisticated modern whirlpool systems, these fixtures have been shaped and reinvented over the centuries, securing their place in history. Yet, regardless of culture or era, they have always been associated with spaces of physical and mental purification, allowing for moments of relaxation and introspection.
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.
.jpg?1611190059 "Flamboyant House / Perkins+Will. Image © Nelson Kon")
.jpg?1617841545 "Geminada House / CR2 Arquitetura. © Alessandro Guimarães")
.jpg?1617841649 "Jardim Paulistano Residence / Perkins+Will. © Daniel Ducci")
.jpg?1635426678 "Serpentine Pavilion / BIG. © Iwan Baan")
