The prestigious BAUMunich, the world's leading trade fair for architecture, materials, and systems, served as the stage for Orama Minimal Frames' latest innovations in architectural frame technology. The exhibition offered a platform for industry connections and showcased advancements that challenge conventional boundaries in frame design.
Meta fitting in Matte Black. Image Courtesy of Dornbracht
Are living spaces getting smaller? As cities densify and the global population continues its steady migration toward urban centers—projected to reach around 70% by 2050—domestic space is becoming increasingly compressed. Rising land prices, high construction costs, and a surge in single-person households push developers toward smaller units and tighter floor plans. At the same time, cultural shifts toward resource efficiency and minimal living support this move. Shrinking living spaces require fewer materials, consume less energy, and encourage people to live closer to their means.
Natural History Museum Abu Dhabi by Mecanoo. Exterior photograph. Image Courtesy of Natural History Museum Abu Dhabi
Back in April 2022, Abu Dhabi unveiled the first images of a new Natural History Museum designed by the Dutch practice Mecanoo. Three years later, on November 22, 2025, the museum opened its doors to the public, presenting 13.8 billion years of science and discovery with a special focus on the Arabian region. Covering more than 35,000 sqm, the design is intended to resonate with natural rock formations. Geometry acts as the unifying theme, with pentagonal shapes referencing cellular structures. Water and vegetation, symbols of life in the desert, also play an important role in the design. Located in Abu Dhabi's Saadiyat Cultural District, the building houses rare meteorites, dinosaur fossils, and reconstructions of the region's prehistoric landscapes, combining natural history, storytelling, and immersive environments. Through interactive exhibitions, special events, and community-science programmes, the museum seeks to encourage audiences of all ages to engage with the natural world.
The future of cities has long been defined by intelligence: networks of sensors, data, and engineered systems. From traffic-flow algorithms to climate dashboards, the smart city promised to make urban life optimized, measurable, and predictable. Yet amid this technological abundance, something essential feels absent: sensitivity. Cities are becoming increasingly equipped to process information but less able to perceive atmosphere, emotion, or care.
As recent global debates on urban innovation reveal, the next challenge is not about adding more devices but cultivating new forms of awareness. A sensitive city listens to its climate, adapts to its inhabitants, and responds to the subtle rhythms of the environment. In this shift from computation to perception, architecture and urban design are rediscovering intelligence as a form of empathy.
Can academic projects explore new directions and contribute to public discourse on global and local issues? The 2025 Politecnico di Torino Architecture Students Award aimed to address these questions, showcasing how architectural research, training, and experimentation can be integrated into a school curriculum.
While adaptive reuse has been increasingly acknowledged as a vital architectural strategy worldwide, its discourse and implementation in Asia are still expanding—driven by growing ecological awareness and a shifting understanding of architectural knowledge. Rather than accelerating a developmentalist model centered on demolition and new construction, architects today are confronted with a different approach to the built environment: treating the existing structure as a resource—an archive of materials, spatial organizations, and informal histories.
Adaptive reuse is often associated with the preservation of historic buildings and culturally significant heritage. Yet the vast field of seemingly 'less-valued' structures—abandoned houses, standard yet old dwellings, non-conforming office buildings, and overlooked urban voids—has become ground for experimentation. These sites challenge architects and designers to reconsider prevailing standards of efficiency and market-driven development, and to imagine spatial and ecological practices that avoid the continual loss of embodied material and cultural knowledge inherent in constant rebuilding.
Heatherwick Studio and MANICA Architecture have released the design for Birmingham City Football Club's new stadium, set to anchor the forthcoming BirminghamSports Quarter in East Birmingham, England. The 62,000-seat venue, planned for Bordesley Green, forms part of a wider redevelopment strategy and coincides with the club's 150th anniversary. Developed through a competition led by filmmaker Steven Knight, the project aims to introduce a multifunctional sports and cultural venue integrated into its urban context.
Louisiana Channel, a web TV platform based at the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art in Denmark, is launching a new film titled Søren Pihlmann: Make Materials Matter. Over the course of 54 minutes, Marc-Christoph Wagner and Simon Weyhe offer a glimpse into the work and mind of the founding architect of Pihlmann Architects, presenting his vision of Danish architecture, the practice of architecture itself, and, in particular, his sensitivity to materials. The film provides a behind-the-scenes look at the process and thinking behind the Danish exhibition at this year's Venice Architecture Biennale. Led by Søren Pihlmann, the team used the opportunity to renovate and conduct material research on Denmark's permanent building in the Giardini, transforming it into a material laboratory and experimental construction site. The result is a process exhibition that highlights how rethinking and reusing existing structures and materials can address critical architectural challenges. As of today, November 20, the documentary is available to watch online for free.
The Holcim Foundation for Sustainable Construction has announced the Grand Prize Winners of the 2025 Holcim Awards, selecting one project from each global region to represent the most impactful approaches to sustainable design in this cycle. This edition marks the introduction of the Grand Prize format, replacing the previous tiered distinctions to better acknowledge diverse regional contexts and avoid hierarchical rankings. Evaluated by juries chaired by Sou Fujimoto (Asia Pacific), Kjetil Trædal Thorsen (Europe), Sandra Barclay (Latin America), Lina Ghotmeh (Middle East and Africa), and Jeanne Gang (North America), the winning projects reflect the Foundation's principles of holistic, transformational, and transferable design.
Across Europe and beyond, architects are confronting a turning point. As rising emissions targets collide with shrinking material supplies and the growing urgency of climate commitments, the built environment is being forced into a deeper reckoning with how it consumes, circulates, and discards resources. What was once considered waste is now revealing itself as a dormant architectural archive, an urban ecosystem of materials waiting to be reclaimed, revalued, or reimagined. Within this shift, architects are beginning to play a radically different role. Not only as designers of buildings, but also as orchestrators of the flows that sustain them.
This emerging mindset is reshaping the foundations of practice. Instead of depending on long, extractive supply chains, designers are beginning to build their own closed-loop networks, establishing material banks, negotiating deconstruction protocols, and participating in new forms of urban mining.
Architectural space has long been framed by permanence: rooms for fixed functions, facades that clearly define where exterior ends and interior begins. Yet contemporary life is defined by overlap and transition: between work and living, interior and exterior, privacy and community. Spatial needs evolve continually, demanding architecture that can respond, adapt, and remain relevant over time.
In this context, adaptability has emerged not only as a design ambition but as a sustainable necessity. Buildings that adjust to shifting uses, evolving climates, or new forms of living extend their lifespan and reduce the need for demolition or extensive retrofits. Flexibility becomes a measure of resilience, allowing structures to remain vital across decades. But how can architecture respond to the evolving ways we inhabit and experience space?
For monuments worthy of sustained admiration, conservation practices have been selectively mobilized to reinforce their prestige and secure their place at the center of heritage narratives. Structures whose vernacular ought to be passed down miss the discerning eye of the experts. Rowhouses, shopfronts, and neighborhood structures that form the fabric of our cities are often left to deteriorate beyond repair. Much more is lost, apart from aesthetics.
The conversation around AI in architecture has shifted from hype to application. Architects and designers now want to understand how the intelligent use of AI-powered tools can drive innovation and create a competitive advantage. Yet, as curiosity and optimism grow, firms also face concerns about the ethical and legal questions surrounding AI adoption.
Across cultural districts and civic centers, this week's architectural developments highlight how institutions and city governments are reshaping their futures amid shifting environmental, social, and economic pressures. New museum and opera projects signal ongoing commitments to expanding public cultural infrastructure, while the debate surrounding Dallas' modernist City Hall illustrates the tensions that arise when questions of heritage meet rising maintenance demands and redevelopment pressures. At the same time, municipalities are advancing new regulatory tools to confront climate challenges, from electrification standards in Sydney and Boston to mobility restrictions and emerging forms of urban diplomacy. These developments reflect an increasingly complex landscape in which architectural environments evolve through a combination of cultural ambition, environmental targets, and shifting models of public decision-making.
Living by the beach has long been a defining aspiration—drawn by the promise of tempered nature, privacy, and immediate access to the water. Historically, beach houses tended to be rustic and pared back: partly because servicing remote sites and delivering materials was difficult, and partly because their charm lay in being closer to the elements—simpler, rougher, more direct.
Accordingly, many early beach houses were built in timber. Wood offered clear advantages: it was lightweight, adaptable, quick to work with, and could be erected with minimal heavy machinery. While timber weathers and fares poorly in salt-laden humidity, exterior-grade lumber carries a raw, natural character that reinforced the appeal of the beach-house ideal.
In a world facing ecological exhaustion and spatial saturation, the act of building has come to represent both creation and consumption. For decades, architectural progress was measured by the new: new materials, new technologies, new monuments of ambition. Yet today, the discipline is increasingly shaped by another form of intelligence, one that values what already exists. Architects are learning that doing less can mean designing more, and this shift marks the emergence of what might be called an architecture of restraint: a practice defined by care, maintenance, and the deliberate choice not to build.
The principle recognizes that the most sustainable building is often the one that already stands, and that transformation can occur through preservation, repair, or even absence. Choosing not to build becomes a political and creative act, a response to the material limits of the planet and to the ethical limits of endless growth. That Architecture moves beyond the production of new forms to embrace continuity, extending the life of structures, materials, and memories that already inhabit the world.
The Deutsches Architekturmuseum (DAM) in Frankfurt, Germany, has opened a new interactive exhibition, on view from October 25, 2025, to February 8, 2026, presenting 100 years of architectural construction kits. Developed in collaboration with graphic designer Claus Krieger, Professors Andreas Kretzer and Philipp Reinfeld from the Stuttgart University of Applied Sciences (HFT), their students, and the wider DAM team, the exhibition brings together around 80 construction kits produced between 1890 and 1990. Many of these systems have been recreated at an enlarged scale so visitors can test their assemblies at eight central play stations. Additional digital features include VR model worlds programmed by HFT students. Dozens of completed models illustrate the range of architectural ideas represented across the kits, and the full collection is documented in an accompanying catalogue. The exhibition is accompanied by a public competition titled How Small Can Architecture Be?, which invites participants to submit miniature architectural models for display.
Public spaces remain some of the most dynamic sites for unbuilt architectural experimentation, revealing how cities and architects can imagine accessibility, gathering, and civic identity. In this curated Unbuilt edition, submitted by the ArchDaily community, the selected proposals examine parks, pedestrian corridors, cultural landscapes, and open-access urban environments that invite people to meet, move, rest, and participate in collective life. Rather than treating public space as leftover terrain, these projects position it as essential infrastructure—shaping urban health, memory, and social interaction.
In 1952, American composer John Cage presented his groundbreaking piece "4'33''" for the first time. In it, the orchestra produces no intentional sound for four minutes and thirty-three seconds. What can be heard instead are breaths, movements, and subtle noises that would normally go unnoticed, but here become part of the composition itself. With this work, Cage revealed that absolute silence does not exist. There is always sound, even when unplanned.
In the same way, every architectural space has its own soundscape. Sound moves, reflects, reverberates, and dissipates according to the materials, volumes, and surfaces it encounters. Hard walls and high ceilings can amplify echoes, while fabrics and porous panels soften them. Acoustics, therefore, is not merely a technical concern but a form of materialized listening, a science that operates at the boundary between perception and emotion. For this reason, it is also complex. Each typology, whether a museum, temple, studio, or theater, has its own sonic logic, and understanding these nuances is essential to creating spaces that embrace sound, voice, and silence with equal precision.