View of Howl's Moving Castle Replica inside the Valley of Witches area . Image via ghibli-park.jp, under policy of fair use
Studio Ghibli and its co-founder Hayao Miyazaki have become household names in the West, thanks to their impressive body of work, which includes over 10 feature films, 2 Oscars, and more than 100 awards worldwide. Films such as "Spirited Away" and "Howl's Moving Castle" showcase their mastery of world-building, story telling and compelling visuals which have earned them global acclaim. This has created a devoted fan base that previously only had the Studio Ghibli Museum in Tokyo to experience the films in real life. As the studio's popularity and movie portfolio grew, it became inevitable for them to expand into a larger space. That is why November 2022 marked the beginning of a new phase as the Ghibli Park opened its gates in Nagoya, Japan.
Gyumri, the capital of Armenia's Shirak region and the country's second-largest city, was historically known for its culture and architectural heritage. While it was part of the Soviet Union, the city hosted many factories that turned it into a primary industrial center in the region, reaching a population of approximately 225,000 people. However, during the past decades, Gyumri has seen a considerable population decline as a consequence of a devastating earthquake that destroyed the city in 1988 and killed thousands of people. More than 30 years later, Gyumri's regeneration process is still unfolding. The city's ongoing efforts to restore its built environment and boost economic development offer valuable insights into how urban regeneration can be navigated in the aftermath of disaster.
At the turn of the millennium, the world was gripped by the looming threat of the Y2K bug, a potential failure of computerized systems that could disrupt everything from banking to aviation. As midnight approached on December 31, 1999, people withdrew their savings, major corporations issued warnings, and governments scrambled to prevent public hysteria. But as the sun rose on January 1, 2000, the feared bug had no material impact, and the crisis faded as quickly as it had emerged. However, this era left its mark in unexpected places — particularly in architecture. Amid the anxiety surrounding digital technology, one of the most iconic concert halls of our time, Casa da Música in Porto, was born. Designed by OMA (Office for Metropolitan Architecture), its origins can be traced to a much smaller project: the Y2K House. What began as an exploration of private domesticity during the digital scare evolved into a grand public structure — an architectural transition from home to a performance hall.
Terrace Garden between both phases. Image Courtesy of NEUF architect(e)s
With modern medicine, it may be difficult for many people today to imagine the devastation caused by Tuberculosis (TB) just about 100 years ago. Initially associated with insalubrious, overcrowded conditions, just in Canada it caused the death of approximately 8000 people annually in the late 19th century. During this time, before more advanced treatments were discovered, prescriptions from doctors involved sunlight, fresh air, and rest. As a response, sanatoria were established. These were places where patients could be separated from the community to manage their disease. One testament to that legacy stands in the heart of Montreal: the former Royal Edward Laurentian Institute, later known as the Montreal Chest Institute. Born from crisis, it has since become a symbol of resilience, transformation, and innovation, shifting from a space of isolation to a thriving hub for research and entrepreneurship in the life sciences.
Gallaudet University was established in 1864, becoming the first American educational institution for the deaf and hard of hearing. The university is officially bilingual, with American Sign Language (ASL) and written English used throughout the educational programs. Over the years, the university has grown, adapting both its teaching methods and its spaces to the needs of its students, in turn learning from them how to counter the challenges they face and create a safer and more comfortable environment. These lessons turned into design guidelines, created to educate the architectural community about the strategies they can employ to create more accessible spaces for all.
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Meeting House Square, Temple Bar. Image Courtesy of Sean Harrington Architects
The veteran Irish architecture critic Shane O'Toole once remarked that when traveling in Europe in the 1970s, "The universal comment was is there modern architecture in Ireland? Now, in less than 50 years, we've gone to a Pritzker Prize and two RIBA Royal Gold Medallists in five years." He attributes this change in perception to a design competition that launched the careers of several of Ireland's award-winning architects of today. This was the Temple Bar Framework Plan competition of 1991 in the center of Dublin, the capital of Ireland, which was won by a group of architects still in their 30s, running under the name of Group 91.
Amidst the traditional streets of Antwerp, where centuries-old townhouses stand as remnants of a historic European city, a stark white volume quietly asserts its presence. Maison Guiette, designed by Le Corbusier in 1926, is an anomaly in its surroundings — a bold statement of modernity in a context that had not yet embraced it.
While today it is overshadowed by the architect's more famous works, this house holds a unique place in history: it was Le Corbusier's first built project outside France, a precursor to his later architectural experiments, and a manifestation of his emerging Modernist principles. Despite its modest scale, it was a manifesto in built form — a house that encapsulated the essence of an architectural revolution.
As Syria is emerging from over a decade of conflict at the time of writing, it is an opportunity to rediscover its architectural gems. Just to the north of the country's principal port city of Latakia is a Modernist creation that is the Center for Marine Research. Its pyramidal structure is situated on a prominent headland surrounded by sea on three sides. To the east is a bay with hotels and beaches while to the north and west is the open Mediterranean Sea reaching Turkey and Cyprus beyond. Despite its importance both as a research institution and as a piece of architecture, it lies abandoned and isolated today.
Located on the top of the Boa Viagem viewpoint in the city of Niterói, the Niterói Contemporary Art Museum - MAC was designed by architect Oscar Niemeyer. Inaugurated in 1996, it is a modern architectural masterpiece dedicated to housing a collection of Brazilian contemporary art from the 1960s to the 1990s. Rising above the cliff like a lighthouse, it appears to float in the air, resting on a water basin. Facing Rio de Janeiro’s Guanabara Bay in Brazil, its circular lines and revolutionary double-curved form stand out on the horizon, offering an open plaza of 2,500 square meters alongside a reflective pool that gives the structure a remarkable sense of lightness.
Envisioned as a "daylight factory", the Van Nelle complex introduced revolutionary architectural and social concepts for its time. By integrating glass, steel, and concrete into an open, rational layout, it demonstrated how design could transform industrial processes while improving the lives of the people within. It was not merely a space for production but a symbol of optimism, representing the potential of architecture to reshape industries and communities.
Inaugurated in 1991, the Maestro Francisco Paulo Russo State Theater in Araras is considered one of the city's and the region's main cultural venues. Designed by architect Oscar Niemeyer, one of the leading figures of the Modern Movement, the theater was equipped with all the necessary infrastructure to host local, national, and international cultural events between 1995 and 2005. Niemeyer left behind a legacy in which his signature free-form architectural style integrates influences from various sources while also engaging in a dialogue with the identity of a tropical country.
In the early 20th century, tuberculosis presented a significant public health challenge across Europe, prompting the construction of specialized facilities for patient recovery. The Paimio Sanatorium in Finland stands as a groundbreaking example of architecture's potential to promote healing. Designed by Alvar Aalto between 1929 and 1933, the sanatorium combined innovative design principles with a deep understanding of human needs, setting new benchmarks for healthcare architecture.
Alvar Aalto, a leading figure in modernist architecture, envisioned the Paimio Sanatorium as more than a functional response to a medical crisis. He crafted a space where architecture became an instrument of care, integrating natural light, ventilation, and harmonious forms to support physical and emotional well-being. This project marked a turning point in Aalto's career, showcasing his ability to blend modernist ideals with a profound sensitivity to context and human experience.
At the intersection of the inevitable influence of the international modern movement and Argentinian architectural tradition, the Grupo Austral emerges as a collective of architects proposing a reinterpretation of Le Corbusier's rationalism, adapting it to the particularities of the local context. In this framework, we can speak of an international architecture that is not merely incorporated but can be considered "appropriated" architecture, meaning it is rooted in Argentina's climatic conditions, lifestyles, and local materials. This leads us to question: How does European architecture correspond with the local? Is it the product of similar situations or a process of transferring architectural images, as has happened throughout history? Is it a mix of both factors? Can we talk about appropriated architecture?
Opened in October 2024, the Järva Cemetery offers everyone, regardless of faith or beliefs, a space for remembrance, continuing Stockholm's long tradition of funeral history. After overcoming significant planning obstacles, the site, designed by Kristine Jensen Tegnestue and Poul Ingemann, was created to accommodate burials and funeral ceremonies, with options for coffins, urns, ash groves, and a commemorative forest. During the last edition of Open House Stockholm, visitors could explore its surrounding natural landscapes and connect with the space.
Upper Lawn's thoughtful interplay between the new and the existing is particularly compelling. Built on the remains of an 18th-century English farmhouse, the pavilion repurposes thick masonry walls from the original structure, incorporating elements such as the well, trees, and lawn into its design. Using prefabricated materials like timber, glass, and aluminum, the Smithsons constructed a light-filled space that harmonizes with its surroundings, embodying their principle of "as found architecture" — a concept rooted in honoring and adapting to preexisting conditions rather than imposing on them.
Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras, offers a dynamic blend of the country's architectural heritage with mountainous landscapes. Nonetheless, just like many other cities in Latin America, it faces significant urban challenges such as social class disparities and a fragmented urban fabric. In response, several design initiatives have emerged over the years to address those issues. One of the most prominent examples is the "Villa for Girls", designed by the Guatemalan firm Solis Colomer Arquitectos, which has now expanded to include a "Villa for Boys" since 2017. These projects are aimed at children from low-income families who often face the risk of being recruited by gangs. Together they build upon an architectural legacy that offers a safe, supportive environment to grow and learn.
Throughout 2024, ArchDaily, in collaboration with the Open House Europe architecture event, brought inspiring projects and stories to light. These true architectural gems were unveiled through visits, and their widely shared narratives enriched the architectural discourse. It is an invitation to explore the stories behind buildings that, although part of citizens' daily lives, often go unnoticed amidst the routine automation of everyday life.
These narratives explored projects of different scales, uses, and contexts, revealing everything from religious buildings, to remarkable examples of adaptive reuse of old industrial structures, now taking on new roles within their communities. Each story uncovered the many layers that make up a building – from its initial design to the new meanings it has acquired over time.
How many stories are hidden behind every line and every wall? Each project serves a purpose, and its creation leaves a lasting impression on the environment it inhabits. ArchDaily's AD Narratives series seeks to uncover the fascinating—and often unexpected—stories that breathe life into selected projects. Through in-depth research, the series delves into the unique details of the design and construction processes, exploring the cultural, social, and political contexts that have shaped each work.
