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Architects: gmp Architects
- Year: 2026


Scaffolding is perhaps one of architecture's most familiar temporary structures. It accompanies buildings through construction, maintenance, and renovation, only to disappear once its work is complete. Yet its apparent impermanence conceals a different kind of longevity. Scaffolding systems are designed to be assembled, dismantled, transported, and reused, with standardized components robust enough to withstand repeated handling and changing site conditions. Their temporary character lies less in the material itself than in the duration of each assembly.
This logic is not unfamiliar in furniture design. Dieter Rams's 606 Universal Shelving System, designed for Vitsœ in 1960, established a modular approach in which shelves, cabinets, and other components could be rearranged, expanded, or transported as circumstances changed. Similarly, IKEA's modular storage systems popularized and demonstrated how furniture can be understood as a collection of interchangeable parts rather than a singular, finished object. Although different in material and intended lifespan, these systems share an important principle: longevity can be achieved through adaptability rather than permanence of arrangement.


When London's main drainage was completed north of the Thames in 1868, the Metropolitan Board of Works marked the occasion with a banquet held inside a sewage pumping station. Abbey Mills had been built over the previous three years by the engineer Joseph Bazalgette, working with the architect Charles Driver, laid out on a cruciform plan with eight beam engines, two on each arm. Its style has been read as Byzantine, Italian Medieval, Russian, Ruskinian Gothic and Moorish, and its twin ventilation chimneys, richly ornamented, rose more than sixty meters. The builder called it an elegant structure in a swamp and thought it might pass for a mosque or a temple.
Almost everything else Bazalgette built was buried, and the exception did not last the century. Steam gave way to electric motors at Abbey Mills in 1933, and the chimneys, redundant since then, were demolished in 1941 out of fear that a bomb strike would topple them onto the station. Sanitary engineering consolidated around criteria that could be measured, among them throughput, discharge quality and hydraulic gradient, and appearance registered in none of them. Treatment moved outward to floodplains, estuaries and municipal edges where land was cheap, and gravity did useful work.

Reclaimed land is often presented as new ground: flat, available, and ready for architecture. It promises cities more space where space is scarce, allowing them to extend waterfronts and build cultural districts. Sometimes, these newly claimed lands may also develop into financial centers, create parks, and imagine futures beyond the limits of existing land. Yet reclaimed land is never simply land. It is an engineered surface, produced through fill, seawalls, drainage, and soil stabilization — a long-term negotiation with the water it claims to have displaced.
This makes reclamation one of architecture's most powerful and ambiguous spatial fantasies. On one hand, it offers freedom: a tabula rasa where streets and buildings can be planned almost from scratch. On the other, this apparent freedom conceals dependency. Made land must constantly prove itself as ground. It has to resist flooding, support foundations, grow trees, and hold public life above a terrain that did not previously exist.







This week, architecture's relationship with culture took center stage through exhibitions, public projects, and new cultural infrastructure that extend architectural discourse beyond the building itself. While major exhibitions from Australia, Shanghai, Barcelona, and Copenhagen examined themes of housing, landscape, and place through research and design, newly unveiled projects in China and Italy demonstrate how museums, performance venues, and mixed-use projects are increasingly conceived as open public landscapes rather than isolated institutions, while new exhibitions and construction milestones reflect ongoing experimentation in adaptive reuse, context-responsive design, and flexible urban environments.

Designed by MVRDV, Bihailou Art Village is a mixed-use cultural and commercial centre currently under construction in Shenzhen, China. Located in the Shatoujiao neighborhood near the Hong Kong border, the mixed-use project combines cultural, commercial, and public programs within a vertically stacked composition derived from the firm's "Vertical Village" concept. Designed to accommodate independently operating venues while maintaining publicly accessible circulation, the development reinterprets the scale and spatial character of the surrounding urban fabric through a series of distinct volumes.

MAD / Ma Yansong's Shenzhen Bay Culture Square exhibition hall and park project began in 2018, with the project completed in 2020. The 188,000 m² building sits on a site area of approximately 51,000 m² along the city's waterfront, at the heart of Houhai, Nanshan District, the headquarters hub of Shenzhen's Greater Bay Area. The masterplan for the site, which includes the Creative Design Hall, the Shenzhen Science and Technology Museum, and a vast public green space, was announced by MAD in 2020 and was expected to be completed in 2023. After eight years, the project, led by Ma Yansong, Dang Qun, and Yosuke Hayano, is now complete and is intended to serve as a cultural facility for design and cultural exchange.