From the field of architecture and construction, the concept of material reuse is closely tied to circular economy and the reduction of carbon footprints, paving the way toward a more sustainable and responsible future. By incorporating recycling practices, recovery, restoration, and/or the reuse of demolition materials, resource efficiency along with the reduction of energy consumption makes it feasible to experiment with techniques, applications, and new materials that honor the memory of spaces while also bringing new life to both interiors and exteriors.
What does it mean to build with care, using what others leave behind? This question shapes the work of the Matter Matters Lab, an initiative founded by architect and researcher Catherine Söderberg Esper during the isolation of the pandemic. Drawing from experiences across cultures and motivated by a personal transformation during motherhood, Catherine began to investigate everyday waste as raw material for regenerative construction systems. Her first experiment involved gluing her own cut hair using white glue, initiating a radically intimate and handmade approach. Since then, the lab has focused on transforming organic waste into low-impact architectural materials, inspired by Indigenous knowledge systems and aiming to break from extractive models in construction. Projects like the Avocado Bricks, made from discarded avocado seeds, exemplify this approach of local, circular, and rooted in the idea of reciprocity between matter, place, and care, offering a new way of building with waste.
The Museum of Emotions is an annual international design competition that tasks participants with exploring the extent to which architecture can be used as a tool to evoke emotion. The brief calls for the design of a conceptual museum with two exhibition halls: one designed to induce negative emotions; the other designed to induce positive emotions. Participants are free to choose any site of their liking, real or imaginary, as well as choose the scale of the project. The meaning of 'positive' and 'negative' is up for interpretation: What two emotions might a designer consider contrasting? How might an architect conceive spaces which elicit fear, anger, anxiety, love or happiness?
The Museum of Emotions is a 'silent' competition: that is, participants must communicate ideas without text, and must use imagery alone. No form of text, whether design descriptions, annotations or even diagrammatic labels, is permitted.
The Deutsches Architekturmuseum (DAM) in Frankfurt has launched its new exhibitionArchitecture and Energy: Building in the Age of Climate Change on June 14, which will be open to visitors until October 5, 2025. Developed in collaboration with engineer and sustainability advocate Werner Sobek, the exhibition explores the intersections of architecture, energy, and climate, focusing on the environmental impact of the built environment and the role of architecture in mitigating climate change. By framing architecture as both a challenge and an opportunity in the context of the climate crisis, the exhibition seeks to contribute to a broader shift in thinking, one that positions design as a vital component of a sustainable future.
The Getty Foundation's Conserving Black Modernism initiative was launched in 2022 as a grant program to preserve and ensure the legacy of African American architects within the Modernist movement across the United States. In partnership with the National Trust for Historic Preservation's African American Cultural Heritage Action Fund, it supports conservation efforts, training, and educational initiatives to address the historical oversight of significant architectural landmarks and their designers' contribution. For its third funding cycle in 2025, five new buildings will receive critical support, expanding the initiative's reach into new communities with the first projects in Chicago and the Pacific Northwest.
Heritage preservation and economic viability have long been treated as competing priorities in urban development. Architects typically face a stark choice - to design for community continuity or design for financial returns. Contemporary projects in Mumbai render this binary false. Through strategic programming, material choices, and spatial organization, architects enable buildings to generate sustainable revenue while strengthening, rather than displacing, existing communities.
As Expo 2025 Osaka passes the midpoint of its six-month duration on July 13, the international exposition continues to serve as a global platform for architectural experimentation, cultural exchange, and technological innovation. Officially opened on April 13 on the reclaimed island of Yumeshima, the event is organized under the theme "Designing Future Society for Our Lives," and has already welcomed more than 13 million visitors as of late July. Conceived as a space for collaboration across disciplines and borders, the Expo brings together more than 150 national, thematic, and corporate pavilions.
Red clay roof tiles appear in many architectural traditions around the world, despite the cultures being geographically or historically distant. However, this isn't necessarily surprising. Clay is an abundant and accessible building material worldwide, with some studies and other sources suggesting it comprises approximately 10-13% of the Earth's soils. Red tiles, in particular, are often a product of the local soil's mineral content and the firing process. Their widespread use across unrelated regions is less about shared cultural influence and more about material logic: clay is cheap, durable, and easy to work with using simple tools and techniques. In Vietnam, for example, there is a unique and visible tradition of clay tile use that dates back centuries. Regions like Vinh Long, nicknamed the "kingdom of red ceramics", have an abundance of this material, supporting a long history of tile-making. In some parts of Vietnam, these tiles are known as Yin-Yang tiles, due to the concave and convex shape in which they are formed during production.
While Hong Kong is widely celebrated for its iconic harbor view, glittering skyline, and fast-paced urban lifestyle, its origins tell a different story—one deeply rooted in its relationship with water. Before transforming into a dense, vertical metropolis, Hong Kong's architectural identity was closely tied to its maritime context. Today, the city is often associated with slender, glass-clad towers that symbolize modernity. While visually striking in their pursuit of height and form, many of these buildings appear disconnected from their immediate environment, often overlooking natural site conditions, ecological responsiveness, and contextual sensitivity.
Historically, however, this was not the case. Hong Kong's earliest built environments—rural fishing villages in areas like Tai O, Aberdeen, and Shau Kei Wan—emerged through organic, community-driven spatial practices that engaged closely with their surroundings. These coastal and riverside settlements developed architectural systems tailored to the marine environment and to the rhythms of fishing life. Villages were sited around water, and construction strategies were adapted to fluctuating tides, terrain, and social use.
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 selection was made by a jury composed of Melike Altınışık, Hans-Petter Bjørnådal, Eleni-Stefania Kalapoda, and Adrian Yap, who evaluated submissions from a range of scales and typologies. The winning projects will be presented in the exhibition "40 Young European Architects with New Visions," opening on December 5th, 2025, at The European Centre, Contemporary Space Athens. A special yearbook publication by Metropolitan Arts Press will also document the selected works, making them accessible to international audiences. Submissions are now open for the 2025–2026 edition, with a deadline of December 15, 2025.
Jenny E. Sabin is an American architect, designer, and educator known for her work at the intersection of architecture, computation, and biomaterials. She integrates digital fabrication, responsive materials, and bio-inspired design into her architectural practice and runs an experimental architecture studio, Jenny Sabin Studio, based in Ithaca, NY. In this interview with Louisiana Channel, she shares her personal journey from artist to scientist, explains how biological and material systems can be applied at an architectural scale, and discusses her teaching and research roles at Cornell University. She elaborates on her interest in bringing people together through new strategies for responsive and adaptive architecture. In her view, the connections between the digital, the physical, and the biological define a paradigm shift in the evolution of architecture, converging with other realms of physical experience to create a more interconnected future.
The 2025 edition of the European Cultural Centre's (ECC) Time Space Existenceexhibition in Venice is guided by the mandate to "Repair, Regenerate, and Reuse." Aiming to move beyond surface-level solutions and overused terminology, the exhibition showcases a cohort of practitioners who interpret architecture as an active agent of repair. The most compelling works presented in Venice demonstrate that "repair" is a multifaceted practice, operating across material, social, and historical registers. The varied approaches showcase a shift in the role of the architect, from a master builder and designer of physical objects, to that of a mender, able to combine technology, community, and material intelligence to restore narratives and build stronger cultural systems.
According to the World Bank, the Angola National Urbanization and Housing Program (PNUH), launched in 2008, aimed to build one million new housing units. However, by 2024, it had delivered only approximately 220,000. Power2Build, an Angolan construction startup, estimates the current housing deficit in Angola at around three million homes, with the situation particularly critical in Luanda, one of the fastest-growing cities on the African continent. With an entirely Angolan multidisciplinary team, Power2Build aims to contribute to reducing this deficit through the use of automated 3D concrete printing technology. Implemented on-site with large-scale construction printers from Danish company COBOD, the system is expected to accelerate construction timelines and improve building quality. Large-scale cement-based 3D printing eliminates the need for traditional molds by precisely placing or solidifying specific volumes of material in sequential layers using computer-controlled positioning. The process involves three key stages: data preparation, material preparation, and printing.
At a time of ecological collapse and rising food insecurity, architecture is increasingly called upon to engage not only with landscapes but with the systems that sustain and regenerate them. Among these systems, agriculture occupies a paradoxical role, as both a leading contributor to environmental degradation and a potential agent of ecological recovery. Industrial farming has depleted soils, fragmented habitats, and driven climate change through monocultures, fossil-fuel dependency, and territorial standardization. In response, agroecology has emerged as a counter-practice rooted in biodiversity, local knowledge, and the cyclical rhythms of nature. It reframes farming not as extraction, but as regeneration of ecosystems, communities, and the soil itself.
This reframing opens space for architecture to contribute meaningfully. To align with agroecology is not only to support food production, but to engage with the broader cultural, spatial, and ecological conditions that sustain it. It implies designing with seasonal variation, supporting shared use, and building in ways that respect both the land and those who work it. Architecture becomes more than enclosure — it becomes a mediator of cultivation, reciprocity, and coexistence.
The Benedictine Monastery of San Nicolò l’Arena in Catania, Sicily, holds within its stones the echoes of five centuries, shaped by time, varied uses, violent earthquakes, and the blazing force of Mount Etna. Its walls, silent witnesses to history, were molded both by the fire of nature and by human hands. Yet among all the transformations it underwent, none was as profound or poetic as the one led by Italian architect Giancarlo De Carlo, starting in 1980. After 30 years of dedicated work, time required to truly understand such a complex and awe-inspiring site, the former monastic residence was reborn as a university, not by force, but through revelation.
