Architecture has entered a pivotal moment. As cities continue to grow under the weight of climatic and social pressures, the materials and systems that shape them are being redefined. Artificial intelligence and robotics, once used to accelerate construction processes, are now being rethought as tools for cultivation. Printed structures that grow, breathe, and decay. Cultivation, in this context, refers to designing with biological materials, where growth and decay are active parameters, merging digital precision with ecological intelligence. This evolution shows the shift from efficiency to empathy, where architecture becomes an agent of active repair. The introduction of mycelium and other natural materials into 3D printing presents a new paradigm in architecture: the logic of the living. A place where computation and fabrication meet biological adaptability.
AI and robotics, once associated with industrial efficiency, are now opening new ways of designing. Early examples, such as ICON's 3D-printed housing prototypes, focused on speed and automation but offered little response to their surroundings. Newer projects, such as the MycoMuseum at the 2025 Venice Architecture Biennale, reinterpret these tools through a biological lens. Instead of shaping concrete, they cultivate living materials, marking a shift from pure optimization toward regeneration.
When architects are still students, a moment often marks a turning point: their first encounter with software. It's not just about learning a tool but discovering a space where ideas transcend physical models, taking shape in a digital environment and beginning a relationship many will carry throughout their careers. What happens next? Software keeps evolving, and with it, the design experience. In recent years, this evolution has accelerated—machine learning, AI, prompts, and integrated workflows have moved from the periphery to the core of design practice, becoming part of the shared language between software and users. As these tools take hold, a key question emerges: How will this reshape our experience of designing architecture in the future?
While a book or piece of music can be easily set aside if it doesn't capture our interest, architecture is different. A building endures for decades, and it shapes the landscape and influences the lives of its occupants for years to come. This permanence brings with it a unique set of challenges: architects must design spaces that impact collective life, often under tight deadlines, limited budgets, and significant pressure. In addition to navigating complex regulations and coordinating construction, architects face the misconception that design is simple, or that anyone could do it. The constant balancing act between quality, cost, and speed often leads to sacrifices — whether in time, health, or the integrity of the project itself. This cycle not only wears down the profession but diminishes society's understanding of the true value of design.
The well-known "good, fast, and cheap" triangle is rarely resolved without the architect sacrificing their own time, health, or even the quality of the project. Repeated for decades, this equation fuels a cycle of wear that not only undermines the profession but also depreciates the value of design in society, even diminishing the role of such a beautiful and important discipline.
Architecture's design process has always been shaped by the tools at hand. We once drew with pen and ink on fragile sheets, copied by blueprint and guarded against smudges and tears; then Mylar arrived, making revisions and preservation easier and nudging drawings toward a leaner, more deliberate economy of lines. Computer-aided drafting followed, speeding coordination and changing how we think about scale and precision. Today, AI adds another layer—gathering information in seconds and spinning images on command—promising new efficiencies while raising fresh questions about authorship and craft. What we make, and how we make it, has evolved with each tool; the history of our methods is the history of our ideas.
Beginning in the post-war era, Mylar (developed in the 1950s) eased drawing reproduction and hastened the shift from blueprint to whiteprint processes. Before Mylar, simply preserving drawings—keeping an idea intact, legible, and undamaged—was a significant task. Post-war design priorities often leaned toward efficiency, simplicity, and an industrial minimalism aligned with reconstruction needs. The tools reinforced this: architectural work remained predominantly hand-drawn, where every line took time to lay down and even more time to erase. That labour sharpened the economy of drawing; each stroke had to earn its place.
In the complex ecosystem of architectural development, where innovative concepts meet market realities, a distinct role exists to bridge diverse professional interests and realize impactful spaces. Elisa Orlanski Ours exemplifies this function. This is the domain of Elisa Orlanski Ours, a designer, educator, and industry leader. As Chief Planning & Design Officer at Corcoran Sunshine Marketing Group, Elisa founded her department two decades ago. Now, her extensive portfolio spans condominium skyscraper master plans and individual branded villas across continents, including significant New York City developments like Hudson Yards and 220 Central Park South, as well as international developments in collaboration with prominent architectural firms like SHoP Architects, BIG, Herzog & de Meuron, Adjaye Associates, and SO-IL. Her strategic perspective on bringing projects from schematic phase to final sale provides valuable insights into the industry's intricate workings. ArchDaily's Managing Editor, Maria-Cristina Florian, had the opportunity to discuss these critical topics with Elisa in the following interview.
How many software tools and platforms are involved today in developing a contemporary project? From designing a single-family house to a public library, relying on just one or two programs is no longer common. Instead, multiple tools combine, overlap, and interact throughout various stages, including analysis, design, rendering, coordination, and construction. This widespread use of software in the virtual world reflects not only the technical complexity of today's practice but also a more subtle yet equally significant shift: software has become less a specific tool and more an environment that accompanies and even challenges the process.
https://www.archdaily.com/1031629/architecture-in-the-age-of-platforms-what-role-does-software-play-in-practice-todayEnrique Tovar
Despite major breakthroughs in other industries, with tools like Cursor reshaping how software gets built, or AlphaFold revolutionizing protein structure prediction, AEC is still waiting on its defining AI moment. Yes, many visualization tools have made waves, especially when it comes to generating beautiful imagery. But they fall short when it comes to understanding the actual design process. They don't grasp the constraints, logic, and decisions that turn those visuals into real, buildable architecture.
And that's exactly where AI's most valuable use case in AEC lies: not in how a building looks, but in how it comes together.
Artificial intelligence is becoming an undeniable presence in our daily lives. It teaches, generates content, and disrupts the fragile boundaries—both visual and imaginative—that once governed our interactions on social media. On platforms like Instagram, we witness a flood of imagery where every kind of speculative exercise is freely shared, recalibrating our understanding of the relationship between architecture and image. Amid this transformation, entire professions find themselves on uncertain ground, as AI begins to challenge areas once defined by human expertise.
Yet beneath this apparent abundance lies the opaque core of closed-source AI: an algorithmic black box that systematically conceals the origins of the data it consumes. As a result, its outputs are inevitably prone to factual distortions, anachronisms, and subtle or overt biases. This same machinery can hollow out the significance behind the languages and stylistic signatures of canonical architects—manifest, for instance, in AI-generated visions speculating how famed designers, living or dead, might have reimagined the Eiffel Tower. We shared one such image to observe and better understand how people—especially architects—respond to AI's current possibilities and limitations, and the ways it mimics architectural intent. The response was quite fascinating, revealing a mix of curiosity, concern, and critical reflection.
District 11 in Sharjah, UAE. Exterior render. Image Courtesy of HWKN
Architecture firm HWKN has been commissioned by Al Marwan Real Estate Development to design eleven distinct buildings for a new commercial neighborhood in central Sharjah, the third most populous city in the United Arab Emirates. The district, featuring offices, retail spaces, cafés, childcare and healthcare facilities, specialized institutes, and a mosque, has been fully researched, conceptualized, and planned using Artificial Intelligence (AI).
Courtesy of AIA Conference on Architecture & Design
The future of architecture isn't just being drawn—it's being coded. Since mathematician John W. Tukey coined the term "software" in 1958 in The American Mathematical Monthly, its influence has steadily expanded, from revolutionizing science and engineering to quietly transforming architecture. What was first embraced as an innovation for structural calculations and drafting has since revealed a much broader potential, becoming a creative driver in architectural narrative and practice.
While that transformation has already taken root—software now embedded in the way we design and think—it continues to evolve. At the recent AIA Conference on Architecture & Designin Boston, current innovations made it clear that we're entering a new chapter: one where software and artificial intelligence aren't just enhancing workflows but actively shaping sustainability, regulation, and decision-making. Architects and software developers now treat code with the same logic as a material—shaped not by modeling or carving, but through parameters, cycles, constant evolution, and feedback. At the same time, architects are working with AI as a co-pilot in the design process, collaborating with it to support decision-making and enhance the design.
https://www.archdaily.com/1030942/ai-and-architecture-software-at-aia25-from-code-to-concrete-in-the-digital-futureEnrique Tovar
What structures and infrastructures sustain the ties and relationships between the countryside and the city? How will architecture and emerging technologies maintain -or not- the coexistence of both worlds in the future? The reduction of ecological footprints, the impact of climate change, the decentralization of major cities, food security, and other contemporary issues challenge professionals in architecture and urbanism globally under the main shared goal of improving citizens’ quality of life and achieving physical, mental, and emotional well-being in both built and natural environments.
"The limits of our design language are the limits of our design thinking". Patrik Schumacher's statement subtly hints at a shift occurring in the built environment, moving beyond technological integration to embrace intelligence in the spaces and cities we occupy. The future proposes a possibility of buildings serving functions beyond housing human activity to actively participate in shaping urban life.
As artificial intelligence (AI) becomes increasingly embedded in society, it's essential to pause and reflect on the foundations that sustain it—and the dimensions to which it extends. At the heart of AI's learning are datasets, whose structure and content shape how these systems interpret and respond to the world. This reliance creates a deep interdependence—one that not only informs AI's capabilities but also defines its potential blind spots. In light of this, we must ask: What forms of understanding might this process exclude, especially those not easily captured in digital form?
The Slovenian Pavilion at the 19th International Architecture Exhibition – La Biennale di Venezia presents Master Builders, a project curated by Ana Kosi and Ognen Arsov and organized by the Museum of Architecture and Design (MAO). The project addresses the evolution of construction technology, encompassing robotics, prefabrication, artificial intelligence, 3D printing, and other emerging tools, while drawing attention to a notable paradox within this technological shift, and also emphasizing that the quality of the built environment continues to rely heavily on the tacit knowledge of skilled craftsmen. By constructing a series of totems, the project examines the collaborative dynamics between architect and craftsman, revealing how this relationship shapes the material realization of architecture.
Artificial intelligence (AI) is no longer a futuristic idea in architecture — it is a concrete reality that is reshaping how we design. In seconds, computational systems can process and evaluate a wide range of variables — formal, programmatic, contextual, and regulatory — guiding architects toward highly optimized solutions. But as we embrace this algorithmic revolution, a critical question arises: can architectural intelligence be reduced to data-driven logic? In response, alternative approaches are gaining momentum — ones that value ways of building grounded in sensory experience, adaptation to place, and the intergenerational transmission of knowledge. In the exchange between artificial and ancestral forms of intelligence, a deeper understanding begins to take shape. Intelligence does not reside in the tools themselves, but in the intention and sensitivity with which we use them to navigate complex realities.
