How did a material conceived for bridges, factories, and large-scale structures make its way to the living room bench, the apartment bookshelf, the café table? For centuries, metal was associated with labor, machinery, and monumentality—from the exposed structures of 19th-century World’s Fairs to the productive logic of modern industry. Its presence in domestic interiors is not self-evident but rather a cultural achievement: the transformation of an industrial material into an element of everyday, intimate use, in close proximity to the body.

In the pursuit of connecting with the architectural traditions of cities and integrating their natural environments into design projects, the contemporary reinterpretation of colonial homes in Mexico faces the challenge of enhancing the contrast between the old and the new. Through the conservation of historical elements, the reuse of materials, and the fusion with contemporary design, the architecture of Mérida recognizes in its original colonial configuration new opportunities to create spaces in line with today’s demands. From achieving a direct connection with nature to naturally lighting and ventilating interior spaces, numerous ancient constructions, whether in ruins or not, choose to highlight their architecture by giving them a new life.

In contemporary Japanese and Chinese kindergarten design, architects are transforming the interior spaces from a simple container into an active, multi-sensory environment. This shift seems to follow Studies in developmental psychology that suggest that a child's experience of space begins with a sensorimotor engagement through touch and manipulation. Thus, they place a strong emphasis on the use of materials and the approach of learning through play. Architects seem to be moving beyond traditional classrooms, into environments that are tactile, stimulating, and rooted in their specific contexts. The buildings themselves become tools for education, encouraging children to learn and explore through direct physical engagement.

In contemporary interior architecture, service provisions—mechanical, electrical, HVAC, plumbing—are almost always treated as elements to be concealed. Thickened wall cavities, extensive dropped ceilings, and, in regions where solid construction such as brick or concrete prevails, furred-out walls are routinely employed to hide these systems. This approach has become so normalized that it often forms the starting assumption for spatial planning, inherently constraining imagination and reducing the range of spatial possibilities. The priority shifts towards covering-up, rather than exploring how these systems might coexist visibly within a design language.

From the interior design of sports facilities to wellness spaces, contemporary architecture continues to experiment with incorporating different uses, installations, and materialities that make it possible to reach broader audiences, generate new spatial experiences, and enhance the simultaneous development of various activities. While each sport requires its own type of architecture, such as climbing training, for example, architecture and design professionals are striving to create atmospheres where exercise becomes more than just a physical experience, but also a psychological one, connecting mind and body through a state of physical renewal, relaxation, and sociability.

When designing a space—whether at the scale of interiors, architecture, or infrastructure—materiality is a central concern. Beyond aesthetics, materials determine how a project functions, ages, and endures. Some architects—such as Wang Shu and Kengo Kuma—have built their practices on a deep sensitivity to the potential and limits of materials. But even in the most pragmatic sense, the question arises: What lasts? What doesn't? And how do materials change over time? Naturally, materials shape atmosphere and appearance—qualities that often matter most to clients. Yet increasingly, the discourse around materiality has shifted from structural substance to surface treatment. When did we start focusing more on "decorating" our spaces by layering one material over another, rather than relying on the inherent beauty and performance of the building fabric itself?

Earth-based flooring materials comprise natural elements such as clay, sand, silt, lime, and organic fibres. They offer both structural performance and sensory engagement when used in both outdoor and interior spaces. Due to their thermal properties, durability, and sustainable qualities, these materials have evolved from vernacular construction techniques into high-value architectural elements that are always being reinvented and optimized. There are several types of earthen floorings, each offering unique benefits, and they are increasingly used in interior settings.

Cafés in museums and galleries do more than provide convenience — they have become an essential part of today’s cultural experience. As Claire Bishop explains in her idea of the “expanded aesthetic experience,” cultural spaces now include hybrid environments that encourage new ways of engaging, socializing, and reflecting. In this context, cafés are not just places to rest; they extend the visit on both sensory and symbolic levels, offering moments of interaction and contemplation in carefully designed settings. By blending architecture, art, and hospitality, they help create immersive and welcoming atmospheres — a concept already hinted at by Brian O’Doherty, who viewed exhibition spaces as an integral part of the artwork itself.

When examining photos of Japanese houses, one frequently notices a recurring space with tatami mats, often slightly elevated and integrated into the public areas of the home. This is the washitsu, or Japanese-style room: a traditional, multipurpose space still commonly found in modern residential architecture. Used for activities ranging from reading and sleeping to hosting a family altar, its versatility is central to its continued relevance. This article explores the Washitsu's layout and meaning, beginning with its historical origins to better understand its role and interpretation in contemporary Japanese homes.

When creating exhibition spaces, the design of the experience, the proposed route, and the transmission of certain perceptions and senses contribute to establishing different bonds and connections between the displayed objects and their visitors. Understanding a showroom as a space designed to creatively and experientially showcase products and services, what design strategies could enhance users’ interior experiences? How does interior design engage in dialogue with exhibition architecture?

Between silence and chaos, we shape our world. Every space we inhabit tells a story, evokes emotions, and influences our thoughts. Minimalism, with its lightness and purpose, invites serenity. Maximalism, exuberant and vibrant, celebrates personality in every detail. But how do these philosophies affect our minds? Understanding their psychological impact can be key to creating environments that enhance well-being and bring harmony to life.