One notable example is Tai Hang, among the earlier settlements established by the Hakka people in Hong Kong. Originally located along a water channel that flowed from the nearby mountains to the sea, the area was once a vital washing site for villagers—hence its name, which literally means "Big Drainage." Before extensive land reclamation, Tai Hang sat quite close to the shoreline. Today, it lies nearly 700 meters inland.
Architectural landmarks often cluster together. In Tokyo, the iconic Omotesando is a well-known stretch where global "starchitects" built flagship luxury retail spaces in the 2000s. Hong Kong has a lesser-known but equally powerful architectural agglomeration along Queensway—though historically more corporate and less publicly engaging. Beginning in the 1980s, this corridor became home to a series of landmark buildings by some of the world's most prominent architects: Norman Foster's HSBC Headquarters, I.M. Pei's Bank of China Tower, Paul Rudolph's Lippo Centre, and the nearby Murray Building by Ron Phillips—now revitalized as a hotel by Foster + Partners. The area is further enriched later on by Heatherwick Studio's renovation of Pacific Place and Tod Williams Billie Tsien Architects' Asia Society Hong Kong Center.
Osaka Expo 2025 Japan Pavilion / Nikken Sekkei. Image Courtesy of Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry
In certain parts of the world, construction is still dominated by wet systems—concrete, masonry, and cementitious materials that are poured, cured, and fixed in place. While this has long been considered the norm in some south-east Asia countries, such as Singapore, Thailand, Malaysia, and China, in most of these regions, they typically share a common trend where labor is relatively inexpensive. This serves as one of the reasons to make concrete more easily available, as one of the typical downside of concrete is its intensive labour cost - this further differentiates concrete as a cheaper and more efficient material system to be building out of.
However, not enough considerations in the region are given to the sustainability aspect when using these wet construction materials,often overlooking the significant drawbacks of its material lifecycle and the difficulty to recycle it without downcycling - making it one of the more unsustainable materials available to be built out of.
Situated in one of the fastest-developing regions over the past decade—the southern part of China, including Hong Kong and the Greater Bay Area—urban growth has been driven by an overwhelming wave of commercial ambition. Projects here are often designed for maximum density, height, and efficiency, resulting in developments of enormous scale that can easily span several acres. Prioritizing transit-oriented development, these complexes frequently take the form of sprawling malls built directly above major transportation hubs. Designed to disorient and prolong foot traffic to encourage economic activities, these mega-structures have become commonplace in cities like Hong Kong and Shenzhen.
While this typology of megastructures offers clear advantages—economic efficiency, high development returns, and convenience for transit users—it almost invariably ignores its urban context and environment. These developments often turn a blind eye, deliberately so, to their environmental footprint and the city's walkability. At such overwhelming scales, the human walking experience is diminished, if not outright neglected. Pedestrians become interiorized—trapped within the insulated world of these complexes.
The 2025 Osaka Expo has captured widespread attention—not only for its architectural ambition and spectacle, but also for breaking records and generating controversy. Its most iconic feature, a monumental timber ring designed by Sou Fujimoto, has already made headlines as a Guinness World Record-breaking wooden structure. Built on the reclaimed island of Yumeshima, the site has attracted praise and critique in equal measure. Beyond its awe-inspiring 2-kilometer circumference—parts of which extend dramatically over the water—the structure has also drawn concerns, including questions about health & safety, extreme heat, and swarms of insects that may affect the visitor experience.
This year also marks a significant anniversary: the 55th year since the 1970 Osaka Expo, held under drastically different socio-economic conditions. Comparing these two expos—both hosted in the same city—offers a rare opportunity to reflect on how the rhetoric, curatorial themes, and architectural ambitions of world expos have evolved over time. From "Progress and Harmony for Mankind" in 1970 to "Designing Future Society for Our Lives" in 2025, the shift in thematic focus reveals changing global priorities. Meanwhile, the scale and nature of architectural involvement have also transformed, from the futuristic visions of Japanese Metabolism to a more internationally dispersed group of designers concerned with sustainability, technology, and civic engagement.
In Venice, surrounded by an overwhelming abundance of architectural beauty—the grandeur of landmarks like the Basilica di San Marco, St. Mark's Square, and the Rialto Bridge, to name just a few—it is easy to become swept up in the iconic imagery and spatial majesty of the city. One could lose sight of the quieter, yet equally masterful, moments found in the execution of details across its built fabric. Beyond the grandeur, the city offers a richness in its winding alleyways, narrow canals, and vibrant street life—each contributing to the cultural tapestry that makes Venice so unique. Amidst these celebrated elements, however, lie subtle but remarkable architectural details that often go unnoticed. These deserve closer observation and reflection, as they offer their own kind of mastery—one grounded in material precision, craft, and the lived rhythms of the city.
Just steps away from the iconic Piazza San Marco, a quiet architectural dialogue unfolds between two celebrated figures. Within a one-minute walk, two projects—each meticulously crafted—sit in close proximity: the Olivetti Showroom by Carlo Scarpa, a long-revered pilgrimage site for architects and designers, and the recently reopened Procuratie Vecchie, restored by David Chipperfield Architects. A closer look at the architectural details embedded within each work reveals a compelling exchange across time—one that unfolds through material language, spatial precision, and an unwavering commitment to craft.
Humans and pets have long shared a deep and inseparable bond—and today, how we live alongside them is becoming increasingly important. Beyond offering companionship, pets are now often regarded as life partners, providing powerful support for mental health and emotional well-being. Yet it is not only the emotional connection that matters: the way we design and curate spaces for cohabitation with them plays a critical role in shaping meaningful spatial relationships between humans and their animal companions.
Whether through custom-designed furniture or more seamlessly integrated solutions like wall cavities and built-in nooks, an increasing amount of attention is being paid to how we can better coexist with pets in our homes. This shift reflects more than just affluence or pet ownership; it signals a broader evolution of companionship—one rooted in mutual support, emotional health, and shared environments.
Santuario de la Naturaleza Humedal Río Maipo.. Image Courtesy of Fundación Cosmos
On Earth Day 2025, observed annually on April 22, we are once again reminded of the urgent environmental and sustainability challenges that face our planet—challenges that continue to evolve alongside global economic, political, and cultural shifts. The building and construction industry remains one of the most critical sectors in the effort to manage and reduce global carbon emissions. This year, these issues are being addressed through increasingly diverse lenses, calling for more holistic and integrated approaches. It's vital that we view sustainability not as a one-size-fits-all solution, but as a multi-scalar effort—one that spans from large-scale urban development and strategic planning, to the advancement of sustainable materials, and even to temporary, thought-provoking interventions like exhibitions and installations. In doing so, we reaffirm our commitment to reducing our collective carbon footprint, while shaping a built environment that promotes human well-being and planetary health.
The bamboo scaffolding building typology—temporary, agile, and deeply rooted in tradition—particularly, the bamboo shed theatre building technique, is recognized as an item of Intangible Cultural Heritage in Hong Kong. As one walks through the city, especially in busy urban districts, it's nearly impossible not to encounter a bamboo scaffold within a five-minute radius. Bamboo scaffolding is arguably the most iconic construction material in Hong Kong, valued for its abundance, sustainability, flexibility, adaptability, and—most importantly—scalability. These qualities have contributed to its widespread use in temporary construction, from building maintenance and renovations to festival stages and sporting events.
However, this once-ubiquitous feature of the urban landscape may be slowly fading from view. A dwindling pool of skilled, younger workers—combined with evolving construction regulations—has contributed to its decline. On March 17, the Development Bureau announced plans to "drive a wider adoption of metal scaffolds in public building works." In practice, this means the Architectural Services Department (ArchSD) will soon require at least 50% of its capital works projects to utilize metal scaffolding. While not a formal ban, the policy signals what many see as the beginning of a gradual phase-out of bamboo scaffolding in public-sector construction.
How is it possible to achieve emotional well-being in public spaces? What role do public spaces play in promoting urban well-being? Considering that sports practices can be a vital component in creating healthy public spaces, skateboarding, one of the most globally recognized urban activities, offers an alternative for building opportunities for the physical, recreational, social, cultural, and even professional development of multiple generations.
In contemporary urban development, the concept of Privately Owned Public Space (POPS) has gained increasing prominence. These are spaces that, while built, owned, and maintained by private developers, are legally required to remain publicly accessible. Often the result of negotiated planning incentives—such as zoning bonuses or increased floor area—POPS have become especially prevalent in dense urban environments where land is limited and demand for public amenities is high.
Integrating natural elements into architectural design has long been a fundamental pursuit in creating comfortable, sustainable environments that enhance both individual well-being and the relationship between buildings and their surrounding context. In areas with vast landscapes, incorporating natural elements is essential for seamlessly connecting architecture with its site. Conversely, in dense urban environments dominated by built structures, introducing greenery becomes also increasingly vital, reintroducing nature into the so-called "concrete jungle."
However, beyond conventional landscape features—such as water fountains, green walls, gardens, or courtyards—architects are redefining what it means to build with nature. The focus has shifted toward deeply integrating architecture with its natural surroundings, creating immersive spatial experiences that blur the boundaries between the built and the organic - in a way, "taming" nature. When successfully executed, these designs go beyond fostering well-being or promoting a healthy lifestyle; they evoke a profound sense of tranquility, power, and harmony, transforming the way we perceive and inhabit space.
Historically, public bathing was a fundamental necessity for hygiene, giving rise to communal bathhouses in regions where private bathrooms were a rarity. In Japan, for instance, sento bathhouses emerged during the early Edo period, serving as essential facilities when most households lacked their own bathing spaces. Similarly, in other parts of the world where plumbing and water management were considered luxuries, shared public baths became vital components of urban life. Over time, these spaces evolved beyond their functional role, becoming venues for socializing, relaxation, and a temporary escape from daily routines.
However, in the modern era, private bathrooms have become ubiquitous in contemporary homes, effectively addressing the hygiene concerns that once made public bathhouses indispensable. With the rise of alternative social spaces—cafés, fitness centers, bars, and jazz lounges—the traditional communal bath no longer serves the same essential function. While some may still appreciate the social aspect of public bathing, the inconvenience of changing clothes and getting wet in front of strangers can deter many from engaging in the experience.
Architecture and its atmospheric qualities have long been a subject of discussion, yet reaching a consensus on the matter remains elusive. This is largely because spatial experience is deeply personal—rooted in emotions, sensory perceptions, and individual preferences that are difficult to articulate in words alone. The way one perceives, feels, and interacts with a space adds another layer of complexity, making it challenging to define and agree upon its atmospheric impact. Nevertheless, architects and designers continuously strive to shape environments that are not only functional and comfortable but also capable of evoking emotions and leaving a lasting impression on their occupants.
Prefabrication is one of the most transformative innovations in architecture and construction, redefining how buildings are designed, manufactured, and assembled. While not a new concept, its application has evolved to offer a broader range of advantages. Traditionally valued for its precision and quality, prefabrication is now equally recognized for its cost and time efficiencies, particularly in leveraging regional differences in labor and production. This shift has fueled its resurgence across high-end, design-driven projects and large-scale, cost-efficient public buildings.
Transit-Oriented Development (TOD) is a comprehensive urban planning strategy aimed at creating dense, walkable, and vibrant neighborhoods centered around public transportation hubs. By seamlessly integrating residential, commercial, and recreational facilities within close proximity to transit nodes, TODs seek to reduce automobile dependency, increase public transit ridership, and stimulate local economic development. Government agencies play a pivotal role in supporting these developments through zoning reforms, easing floor area ratios (FARs), selling air rights, and facilitating public-private partnerships to secure capital for public infrastructure. While TODs have gained global traction, East Asia boasts some of the most successful examples. Conversely, efforts to replicate these models in different contexts—such as New York City—highlight the importance of adapting TOD principles to local conditions, geographical characteristics, and community needs.
Doors are among the most frequently used architectural elements in any occupied building, serving as movable thresholds that negotiate between private and public spaces. They facilitate both connection and separation among co-inhabitants. Yet, despite their fundamental role, doors are often one of the most overlooked design elements, particularly by clients. In discussions with industry professionals on various interior projects, a common consensus emerges—clients typically pay little attention to door types and details as long as the opening direction aligns with their expectations. However, the world of door design is an intricate one, offering a wealth of possibilities in finishes, installation methods, and modes of operation—each of which can significantly shape the spatial experience beyond the simple matter of swing direction.
The choice of door type and detailing can define or redefine a space entirely. Some doors offer superior sound insulation, while others remain open to connect spaces, enhancing spatial fluidity seamlessly. Certain designs require meticulous installation and ongoing maintenance, while others are virtually hassle-free. Moreover, the type of door selected, particularly that of the hinge, influences not only wall construction but also flooring layers and transitions, adding further complexity to the design process.
In 1975, Honduras was under a military regime that had been in power for over a decade, led at the time by General Juan Alberto Melgar Castro. During this period, Tegucigalpa underwent several big and unprecedented changes. The influx of people from various parts of the country due to rural migration transformed the city from a compact urban area into an expanding metropolis. This unexpected growth prompted the government to implement a municipal development and planning scheme, a project that would define the city's future and the evolution of its old town. This article was developed with the collaboration of the Honduran architect Lisandro Calderón, who specializes in Urban Planning and is currently a professor at the Central American Technological University (UNITEC), located in Tegucigalpa, Honduras.
