Chimneys are among the most quietly persistent elements in architectural history. Yet their presence persists in nearly every cultural and climatic context, serving as a technical feature and a spatial, atmospheric, and symbolic device. It populates dense city skylines and anchors rural horizons alike, its vertical silhouette as ordinary as a window or a doorframe. This apparent ordinariness is deceptive. The chimney is one of the few architectural components that links the intimate scale of interior life with the expansive forces of the environment. For architects and designers, the necessity of the chimney presents a choice: to let it recede quietly into the building's functional fabric or to amplify it as a central, expressive element that shapes a project's identity.
Wine production has long been tied to place, climate, and culture, and in recent decades, architecture has become a central part of this relationship. Wineries are no longer understood only as functional facilities for fermentation, storage, and distribution, but also as spaces where landscape, materiality, and visitor experience intersect. From subterranean cellars hidden beneath fields to sculptural landmarks rising in rural territories, these buildings shape the identity of winemaking regions while offering visitors a carefully choreographed encounter with the process of production.
At the intersection of agriculture, tourism, and culture, wineries present architects with unique opportunities to merge technical requirements with a spatial narrative. They must respond to environmental conditions, manage temperature and humidity with precision, and integrate with delicate ecosystems, while also providing spaces for tasting, gathering, and celebration. As a result, the typology has given rise to a wide range of architectural solutions. Some are rooted in tradition and local craft, others are exploring advanced technologies and contemporary forms.
In 1982, at a conference on earth building in Tucson, Arizona, an unusual presentation challenged everything architects thought they knew about rural resources. Instead of focusing on construction techniques, the presenter, architect Pliny Fisk III, spread out a series of hand-drawn maps that revealed something extraordinary - rural Texas wasn't resource-poor, as conventional wisdom suggested, but material-rich beyond imagination. The maps showed volcanic ash perfect for lightweight concrete, caliche deposits stretching across vast territories, and mesquite forests that could supply both hardwood flooring and insulation. The revelation redefined prevailing notions of value in architecture.
Every June, the Spanish city of Logroño transforms into a space of architectural dialogue, opening its streets, plazas, riverbanks, and traffic islands to temporary structures that redefine how cities are inhabited. For ten editions, Concéntrico has worked not as a specialized fair or an architecture biennale, but as a portable museum — a curatorial gesture that brings a dispersed collection of contemporary architecture into public space. Set in a city suspended between arid plains and distant mountains, far from the circuits of capital cities and cultural institutions, Concéntrico presents itself as a temporary promise. It's a reminder that even cities that are often overlooked can host architecture that is current, diverse, and speculative. In this sense, the festival is less about celebration and more about activation.
But beyond its curatorial logic, Concéntrico operates as a political structure. In the ancient sense of polis, it invites citizens, architects, and institutions to reassess what public space can be. The interventions offer speculative proposals for urban life that reveal what is missing, what is possible, and what should be questioned. A temporary pool over a fountain, a bathhouse in a roundabout, or a shared meal on a major avenue are not just spatial gestures — they are political statements, asking how urban infrastructure might be redirected from control to care, from efficiency to encounter. In that way, the festival becomes not just a reflection of the city, but an instrument for its transformation.
Extreme heat is one of climate change's most urgent and rapidly growing consequences, especially in cities. Urban areas are particularly vulnerable because they trap heat in building materials and urban streets, creating dangerous conditions for residents. As temperatures continue to rise and heat waves lengthen, cities are grappling with how to remain livable in the face of this intensifying threat.
The Master in Advanced Architecture at IAAC celebrates its 25th anniversary as one of the most forward-looking programs in architectural education. Founded in 2000 in Barcelona, the program was created as a space for experimentation—where design meets technology, ecology and critical thinking, far from the conventions of traditional architectural training.
Over the years, the program has welcomed more than 1,000 students from over 80 countries. This international mix is no accident; it reflects IAAC's understanding of innovation as something that grows through dialogue, diversity and shared ambition. The result is a network of professionals working at the intersection of design, research, and systemic change.
During the Time Space Existence exhibition, organized by the European Cultural Centre in Venice, Pritzker Prize-winning architect Alejandro Aravena and his firm ELEMENTAL unveiled a full-scale prototype for a new approach in incremental housing solutions. Titled the USB Core, standing for Basic Services Unit housing prototype, this proposal aims to demonstrate how efficient construction can provide all the essential housing components in a minimal space. The prototype is also the result of a collaboration between the architecture office and concrete manufacturer and researcher Holcim, and is built out of a newly developed type of net-zero concrete mix. It also incorporates fully recycled aggregates, in alignment with circular economy principles. The collaboration aims to demonstrate a more environmentally conscious yet cost-effective way of providing essential services to at-risk communities without harming the planet.
While on site in Venice, ArchDaily's managing editor Maria-Cristina Florian had the chance to sit down with Alejandro Aravena and discuss the implications of this collaboration, the urgent need for housing, and the role of the architect as the coordinator of a process involving many actors.
Oystra, Al Marjan, Render by MIR. Image Courtesy of ZHA
Oystra, designed by Zaha Hadid Architects, is a 128,000-square-metre seafront development located on Al Marjan Island in Ras Al Khaimah, United Arab Emirates, that comprises 950 residential units, a comprehensive range of shopping, dining, and leisure amenities. Ras Al Khaimah, one of the UAE's fastest-growing emirates, is projected to see a 55% increase in its population by 2030, driving the need for an additional 45,000 homes. The emirate's tourism sector is also experiencing significant growth, with the number of visitors expected to rise to 3.5 million annually by 2030, up from 100,000 in 2013.
The 2025 iteration of the Time Space Existence exhibition is set to attract audiences from May 10 to November 23. Organized by the European Cultural Centre (ECC) in Venice's renowned venues—Palazzo Bembo, Palazzo Mora, and Marinaressa Gardens—this seventh edition brings together a diverse cohort of 207 architects, designers, artists, and researchers from over 52 countries. All contributions are curated under the theme of "Repair, Regenerate, and Reuse" as an exploration of architecture's capacity to engage with critical environmental, social, and cultural challenges. Highlights of the Special Projects section include ArchDaily's inaugural exhibition, presenting six architecture offices previously recognized as Best New Practices as emerging voices in the field of architectural innovations.
The decision to lift a building off the ground is a technical maneuver that requires substantial planning, expertise, and careful consideration. It is a deliberate architectural response to the site's forces and fragilities. Floodplains, wetlands, and thawing tundra share a common thread: Architects reconcile risk and vulnerability through elevated structures. In this sense, it is a spatial response and a structural necessity.
The intersection of architecture and medicine profoundly shaped modernist design, where transparency, light, and air became essential tools in the pursuit of health. Emerging from the tuberculosis crisis of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the sanatorium evolved beyond a medical facility into a testing ground for architectural innovation. The necessity of fresh air, sunlight, and sterility transformed these spaces into prototypes for modernist principles, influencing spatial organization, material choices, and design philosophies that extended far beyond healthcare.
More than sites of treatment, sanatoriums embodied contemporary medical theories in built form. At a time when tuberculosis — often called the white plague — devastated populations worldwide, medical professionals prescribed environmental exposure as the primary therapy. Architecture adapted accordingly, producing buildings with expansive terraces, large windows, and streamlined interiors designed to optimize ventilation and maximize natural light.
Architecture and its atmospheric qualities have long been a subject of discussion, yet reaching a consensus on the matter remains elusive. This is largely because spatial experience is deeply personal—rooted in emotions, sensory perceptions, and individual preferences that are difficult to articulate in words alone. The way one perceives, feels, and interacts with a space adds another layer of complexity, making it challenging to define and agree upon its atmospheric impact. Nevertheless, architects and designers continuously strive to shape environments that are not only functional and comfortable but also capable of evoking emotions and leaving a lasting impression on their occupants.
Sustainability in architecture is often framed as a universal challenge, leading to standardized solutions that prioritize efficiency over context. However, architecture is inherently tied to its environment — buildings interact with climate, topography, and cultural history in ways that demand specificity. Instead of relying on standardized sustainability checklists, how can architecture embrace site-specific solutions? This conversation is deeply connected to the concept of Genius Loci, or the spirit of a place, introduced by Christian Norberg-Schulz and embraced by architects advocating for designs that resonate with their surroundings. It suggests that architecture should not be imposed upon a site but rather emerge from it, informed by its materials, climate, and cultural significance. This philosophy challenges the widespread application of generic sustainable technologies, instead proposing that sustainability must be inherently tied to the location in which it operates.
Humid environments present some of the most complex challenges in architectural design. From the tropical monsoon season of Southeast Asia to the equatorial heat of Central Africa, these environments demand solutions that account for intense moisture, high temperatures, and the constant battle against mold, decay, and stagnation. Yet, for centuries, communities in these regions have developed architectural techniques that do not fight against humidity but instead work with it, leveraging local materials, climate-responsive design, and passive cooling techniques to create sustainable and livable spaces. By considering atmosphere as a sensory and climatic phenomenon, architects will craft spaces that are not only evocative but also responsive, adaptive, and sustainable.
SO-IL (Solid Objectives – Idenburg Liu) is an architectural design firm based in Brooklyn, New York, founded in 2008 by Florian Idenburg and Jing Liu. Known for an architecture deeply engaged with social, cultural, and environmental contexts, the studio focuses on exploring innovative materials, creating fluid spatial experiences, and prioritizing ecological sustainability. SO-IL's work spans various scales and program types, reflecting their versatile approach to design. In 2024, their housing project 450 Warren in Brooklyn was selected as ArchDaily's Building of the Year by the audience in the housing category.
In their latest book, In Depth: Urban Domesticities Today, SO-IL explores the evolving concept of home in contemporary urban contexts, transforming it "from a source of vulnerability into a tool for empowerment." The book redefines domesticity as an active and shared experience and examines how architects can address pressing urban challenges such as affordability, density, and sustainability. SO-IL's work advocates for flexible, resilient housing that fosters community while integrating ecological and social dimensions. ArchDaily spoke with the architects about the innovative solutions and ideas presented in the book, delving into how their projects challenge conventional systems and envision a future where architecture is a tool for empowerment.
