Bamboo is often praised before it is understood. It grows quickly, carries a long history of building cultures, and appears to offer architecture an immediate ecological language. In photographs, it can seem almost self-explanatory: light, natural, renewable, and already aligned with a more sustainable future. Yet this apparent clarity is also what makes bamboo difficult to discuss with precision. Once it becomes a symbol of environmental responsibility, the material itself can disappear behind the image it produces.
This is the risk of bamboo's contemporary revival. It can be imagined too easily as a green substitute for industrial materials, a regional atmosphere, or a softer alternative to the harder languages of steel and concrete. In each case, bamboo is admired before its conditions are understood. The more important question is not whether bamboo is sustainable in a general sense, but what kind of architectural culture it requires: what forms of knowledge, maintenance, regulation, labor, and time are needed for its sustainability to become real.
From acoustic and thermal cladding systems to masonry units and textiles made from agricultural waste, experimentation with bio-based materials continues to drive sustainable solutions for the construction industry. Faced with the urgent need to rethink how we conceive of and interact with the materials that shape the built environment, professionals, researchers, and educators are addressing different design scales and project phases, recognizing the importance of reducing carbon emissions and the industry's environmental impact. In partnership with Bagaceira Project, the Sugarcrete® acoustic and thermal panel prototype, developed by the University of East London (UEL), demonstrates how low-carbon design can transform agricultural waste into high-performance building materials.
Contemporary architecture has learned to celebrate living matter. Mycelium panels, algae systems, living walls, life is now welcomed into buildings, framed as innovation. Yet the same discipline that celebrates these organisms treats mold as contamination. Both are biological. Both respond to moisture, temperature, and material conditions. The difference is not scientific. It is about which forms of life architecture is willing to accept, and which it prefers to remove.
Mold is not limited to abandoned buildings or poorly maintained interiors. It appears in homes, schools, offices, historic structures, and new construction, across different climates and contexts. This makes it harder to ignore as a minor or isolated problem. If mold keeps returning, what is it telling us about the environments buildings create?
Bolete Lounge BIO® by Andreu World x Patricia Urquiola. Image Courtesy of Andreu World
When walking into a large living space, a hotel lobby, or an open-plan workplace, the first thing that can be noticed is not what divides the space, but what holds it together. There are rarely clear boundaries, no obvious rooms, no strict partitions, yet the space still feels organized. Some areas invite a pause; others dictate movement; others foster community. The transitions are subtle, but legible.
At the same time, these interiors are expected to do more. They must accommodate constant change, withstand intensive use, and respond to environmental pressures by reducing waste, extending lifespans, and avoiding frequent replacement. The question is not only how a space looks, but how it performs over time. What is actually doing the heavy lifting?
At the Table with Nature Exhibit, ambiente 2026 Photo Credit: Jürgen Baumhauer
The well-known phrase "man is what he eats" (Der Mensch ist, was er isst), by Ludwig Feuerbach, asserts that the physical, mental, and even moral constitution of human beings is directly linked to what they consume. Today, this idea is widely internalized, with growing awareness around food, nutrition, and the impact of what we ingest on our bodies. Yet, this same level of awareness doesn't extend to the environments we inhabit, where materials continue to be treated as technical decisions rather than active agents in the relationship between body and space. Considering that a large portion of the global population spends around 90% of their time indoors, it is rarely discussed what actually composes these spaces at their most fundamental level: materials. Walls, floors, and finishes are often approached as technical or aesthetic choices, when in reality they can function as continuous sources of exposure to potentially harmful substances.
The pursuit of stronger, lighter, and more durable materials has guided architecture long before polymers or carbon fibers existed. One of the earliest large-scale examples of composite materials can be found in the Great Wall of China, where stone, clay bricks, and organic fibers such as reeds and willow branches were blended to create a resilient and lasting structure. These early techniques reveal a timeless intuition: distinct materials, when combined thoughtfully, produce properties unattainable by any single element. As the construction sector faces urgent ecological pressures, this intuition is being revisited through the lens of sustainability, with architects and engineers exploring bio-based, recycled, and hybrid composites designed not only for performance but also for circularity and environmental responsibility.
Which materials have taken center stage in the architectural discourse of 2025? Which projects have rediscovered new construction practices and methods through material innovation? While the future of building materials still appears uncertain, year after year, experimentation and research continue to reveal diverse practices, initiatives, and efforts dedicated to understanding their value and responsibility within the built environment. From agricultural waste that reduces carbon footprints to recycled plastics given new life, and living materials that engage with emerging technologies while reconnecting with nature, 2025 has highlighted and strengthened the role of architects as mediators between materials, disciplines, knowledge, and interests from diverse origins.
The phenomenon known in biology as convergent evolution describes how distant species can develop similar structures when confronted with comparable challenges. Dolphins and ichthyosaurs, for example, are separated by millions of years of evolutionary history, yet both evolved nearly identical hydrodynamic bodies. Architecture has its own parallels: A-frame structures emerged independently in both the European Alps and Japan, even without direct cultural exchange, as spontaneous responses to snow, wind, and material scarcity.
https://www.archdaily.com/1037027/converging-trends-in-2025-architecture-circularity-biomaterials-and-carbon-conscious-designArchDaily Team
Bolete Lounge BIO®. Image Courtesy of Andreu World
What is the current global outlook on the recyclability of materials used in architecture? To what extent are contemporary societies truly committed to reducing environmental impact? In the effort to live in balance with nature, replacing fossil fuels with renewable energy sources is one of the key strategies for cutting greenhouse gas emissions and addressing global warming. Looking to nature for inspiration as a way to protect it means creating designs that incorporate sustainability, circularity, and recyclability from the very first sketch. From building systems to surface finishes, the use of biomaterials in architecture reflects a mindset rooted in long-term responsibility for a material's full life cycle.
Architecture has entered a pivotal moment. As cities continue to grow under the weight of climatic and social pressures, the materials and systems that shape them are being redefined. Artificial intelligence and robotics, once used to accelerate construction processes, are now being rethought as tools for cultivation. Printed structures that grow, breathe, and decay. Cultivation, in this context, refers to designing with biological materials, where growth and decay are active parameters, merging digital precision with ecological intelligence. This evolution shows the shift from efficiency to empathy, where architecture becomes an agent of active repair. The introduction of mycelium and other natural materials into 3D printing presents a new paradigm in architecture: the logic of the living. A place where computation and fabrication meet biological adaptability.
AI and robotics, once associated with industrial efficiency, are now opening new ways of designing. Early examples, such as ICON's 3D-printed housing prototypes, focused on speed and automation but offered little response to their surroundings. Newer projects, such as the MycoMuseum at the 2025 Venice Architecture Biennale, reinterpret these tools through a biological lens. Instead of shaping concrete, they cultivate living materials, marking a shift from pure optimization toward regeneration.
All materials come from somewhere, embedded in a chain of extraction, supply, production, and disposal that, depending on its scale, leaves more or less significant marks on the environment. In architecture, we usually approach this trajectory through the lens of materials' circularity, considering how they can re-enter production cycles rather than become waste. Yet, broadening our view to unexpected places reveals parallel systems where by-products from one industry become resources for another. This approach has found fertile ground in organic waste transformed into biomaterials, with one of the most recent examples being the work of Fahrenheit Works. Through their installation, "From the Tagus to the Tile", they repurpose oyster shells initially discarded by food systems to create a reinterpretation of Lisbon's iconic tiles.
Buildings are physical, static, and permanent. To imagine them otherwise often requires some creative thinking. The industry has operated with this strong association between structures and permanence, unknowingly constraining perspectives on building life cycles. Innovations in building materials have opened up avenues for cirular design that challenge the long-held notion that buildings must endure indefinitely. Emerging approaches promote architecture that ebbs and flows with nature.
