Around the world, a passionate community of bird watchers, from novice observers to seasoned ornithologists, is drawn to the subtle movements, distinct calls, and remarkable migrations of birds. This global fascination has led to the creation of thoughtfully designed spaces by architects and designers, enhancing the bird-watching experience while respecting the ecological landscapes in which they are placed.
In 2020, in the midst of the first wave of lockdowns due to the pandemic, the municipality of Amsterdam announced its strategy for recovering from this crisis by embracing the concept of the “Doughnut Economy.” The model is developed by British economist Kate Raworth and popularized through her book, “Doughnut Economics: Seven Ways to Think Like a 21st-Century Economist”, released in 2017. Here, she argues that the true purpose of economics does not have to equal growth. Instead, the aim is to find a sweet spot, a way to balance the need to provide everyone with what they need to live a good life, a “social foundation” while limiting our impact on the environment, “the environmental ceiling.” With the help of Raworth, Amsterdam has downscaled this approach to the size of a city. The model is now used to inform city-wide strategies and developments in support of this overarching idea: providing a good quality of life for all without putting additional pressure on the planet. Other cities are following this example.
Facing an interconnected planetary climate crisis, biodiversity loss, and resource depletion, regenerative design emerges as a pathway toward building resilient and ecologically attuned rural futures. At the intersection of architecture, agriculture, and local ecosystems, new models of resilient, self-sufficient agricultural practices are emerging. These projects are not grand industrial systems but small-scale, precise, and deeply contextual architectural interventions that create spaces that foster sustainable cultivation while respecting environmental rhythms, local materials, and community knowledge.
The European AHI Award recognizes architectural heritage interventions across Europe, highlighting their role as a forward-looking model for 21st-century architecture with tangible social, environmental, and economic benefits. In its seventh edition, the award honored six projects, four first prizes and two special mentions, during a ceremony held in early June at the Paranimf Ceremonial Hall of the Escola Industrial in Barcelona. A total of 238 projects from architecture studios in 24 European countries were submitted. The selected winners are located in Antwerp, Kortrijk, Olot, Ancient Corinth, and Milan.
Amid coasts, rivers, lakes, and mountain ranges, Spain’s natural environment encompasses a wide variety of climates, topographies, and vegetation species. Aiming to raise global awareness of the impact of construction on the environment and the importance of addressing climate change through new ways of creating architecture, several architectural practices and research teams are exploring the design of cabins or small-scale lodging prototypes. While capable of integrating harmoniously with their surrounding natural context, they also demonstrate strategies for self-sufficiency, resource utilization, and space maximization, as well as broad applications of innovative technologies and material solutions adapted to each region.
How does the design of contemporary interiors create different experiences through its materials? How does the adaptability and reuse of certain materials make it possible to generate contrasting and/or complementary atmospheres within a single space? According to each material's textures, proportions, colors, or properties, interior architecture currently recognizes the opportunity to create environments where materiality plays more than just an aesthetic role. With special attention to the final experience of its users, El Equipo Creativo aims to combine designs where landscape, nature, culture, and art stand out in interior compositions that accommodate broad programs and audiences.
The term "biophilia" understandably conjures images of buildings engulfed by vegetation and integrated into natural landscapes. In modern architectural discourse, the concept has come to be associated with the incorporation of greenery into built environments, yet such applications represent only a sliver of biophilic design's true scope. Inarguably, nature plays a central role in biophilic design. However, its influence stretches to often-overlooked strategies that involve spatial configuration and environmental patterning. "Invisible" biophilia frequently leads to positive health outcomes for occupants, working impactfully beneath the surface.
Throughout their relatively recent history, museums have evolved to condense particular aspects of a culture and present them in a coherent and unified manner. This makes the connection between the architecture and the exhibit a crucial matter, as the architect is tasked with designing not only the framework and background of the exhibited arts or artifacts but also taking charge of the journey undertaken by the visitor, harmonizing the cultural gain with the lived spatial experience of walking the exhibition halls. However, not all museums have been purposely built for this task.
Across Europe, museums are being organized within or expanding upon historical monuments and buildings that have lost their original purpose. Then in a state of decay, this decision to reorganize them as cultural venues stops the decay and preserves the historical material, adding a new layer of complexity to the intended exhibits. The architect's role becomes that of introducing order and a system that can balance the heritage of the place with the needs of modern functionality, ensuring that the essence of the original structure is preserved while meeting the needs of contemporary exhibitions and public engagement.
In early Mongolia, herders dismantle their yurt - a portable round tent made of felt or animal skin - in pursuit of new lands where they can raise their livestock. Not much further away is a digital nomad in Bali, preparing their next move into a co-living space in Ho Chi Minh City. Though separated by vast distances and cultural divides, these individuals are united by a timeless human desire - a quest mobility and adaptable living spaces. In light of geopolitical changes and emerging lifestyles, the demand for flexible residential architecture intensifies. In this era of increased mobility, is it enough for people alone to move, or will the buildings of tomorrow need to follow suit?
