What can a textile do that glass, wood, concrete, or metal cannot? Architectural composite fabrics don't replace conventional building materials. Instead, they can complement them and often add another layer of performance to the building envelope. Their application changes with context. A composite membrane can become an exterior shading system for a tropical conservatory, an interior skin that shapes acoustics and spatial experience in a museum, or part of a facade strategy that improves the environmental performance of an existing building.
In a slim volume with a yellow-edged cover, recently published by the Porto-based imprint Circo de Ideias, the architect Paulo Martins Barata (a founding partner of Promontório) makes a deceptively bold claim that the architecture produced in Europe since the Great Recession belongs to neither of the two camps that structured the twentieth century's fiercest disciplinary debate.
The Language of Metamodern Architecture borrows its title, with evident irony, from Charles Jencks' 1977 The Language of Post-Modern Architecture, the book that famously declared modern architecture dead at 3:32 pm on July 15, 1972, with the demolition of Pruitt-Igoe. His wager is that another death, never officially certified, occurred somewhere around 2008, and that architecture has been living, mostly unaware, in what grew up around the grave.
On this occasion, architect Rodrigo Rieiro Díaz, from the ARKRIT Collective, presents an article that explores how certain contemporary architects have refused to hide building scars resulting from material processes in rehabilitation projects, in a bid to emphasize the pre-existing structure as an aesthetic asset.
While it is true that not painting—or covering with joint covers—the marks of material processes during building adaptive reuse projects represents a financial saving, there seems to be a desire among certain contemporary architects that goes far beyond simply cutting a line item from the budget.
Indeed, there is a contemporary tradition—the reuse of industrial buildings as art spaces—where this practice is common. This model of an exhibition space, halfway between a gallery and an artist's studio and geared toward a young, urban audience, already has a history of at least forty years. Yet there is a certain consecration of the method in its adoption by the city councils of major European cities for their cultural institutions, and in the highly favorable reception of these interventions in academic and professional circles.
There is growing awareness around sustainability—and the environmental cost of prematurely demolishing safe, structurally sound buildings only to replace them with new construction. In the broader race to reduce carbon emissions, corporations and institutions are placing greater emphasis on ESG performance (environmental impact, social responsibility, and governance). Many now require carbon accounting, set "carbon-neutral" targets, or purchase carbon credits to offset footprints.
This shift, together with a wave of exemplary adaptive-reuse projects worldwide—Herzog & de Meuron's Tai Kwun in Hong Kong, Powerhouse Arts in Brooklyn, David Chipperfield's The Ned Doha, and Xu Tiantian's transformations of factories, quarries, and rammed-earth fortresses in China—has accelerated serious reconsideration of reuse as a primary development strategy. Yet despite its many benefits, adaptive reuse is still not as prevalent as it could be. Why and what might be the main obstacles and tensions?
HouseEurope! is the European Citizens' Initiative advocating for EU legislation to simplify, reduce the cost of, and make more socially equitable the renovation and reuse of existing buildings, has officially begun its signature gathering period. The initiative aims to curb demolition driven by speculation and foster a construction industry that prioritizes the potential of existing public and private buildings. As a tool of direct democracy, European Citizens' Initiatives allow citizens to propose legislation at the EU level. For the legislation to be officially considered and implemented by the European Commission and EU member states, it requires the support of 1 million European citizens from at least seven EU countries. The initiative opened for signatures on February 1st, 2025 and will remain open until January 31st, 2026.
Unlike the 2024 Color of the Year selections, the 2025 picks reveal more commonalities among the colors chosen by major paint industry leaders. Each year, designers and enthusiasts from various fields gather within companies worldwide to reignite the conversation about color and its connection to contemporary culture. For the 2025 forecast, earth tones seem to be the big winners: Pantone's Mousse Chocolate is joined by cinnamon, brown, and burgundy shades from Benjamin Moore, Graham & Brown, Behr, and C2 Paint. Companies like AkzoNobel, Valspar, and Comex opted for more vibrant colors to celebrate optimism and joy, while Sherwin-Williams and Jotun didn't limit themselves to a single color. Instead, they introduced entire palettes centered on tranquility and relaxation. These concepts appear to be the guiding themes for 2025.
In architectural design, materials convey narratives, shaping how spaces are perceived and experienced. Weathering steel, often known by its genericized trademark name, Corten steel, stands out for its ability to evolve, transforming into a medium that tells its own story. It represents a group of steel alloys that form a stable external layer of rust that replaces the need for paint to protect the steel while allowing it to develop in time. Its weathered patina serves as more than a functional shield; it becomes an aesthetic language, a testament to the interplay between architecture and nature. This ever-changing surface bridges the ephemeral and the enduring, offering architects a material that grows richer with age.
