Studio NEiDA operates at the intersection of architectural practice, research, and curatorial work, with a consistent focus on how buildings emerge from the material and cultural conditions of a place. Rather than treating materiality as a finishing language, the studio frames it as the beginning of an architectural narrative—starting from what is locally available, they look at what craft knowledge exists on the ground, and how those resources and skills situate a project within an architectural lineage. This approach foregrounds limitations and possibilities as productive forces, and positions design as an iterative process of aligning spatial intent with the realities of construction culture and vernacular intelligence.
Across their work, NEiDA's interests extend beyond form toward the socio-political and climatic contexts that shape how architecture is made and inhabited. They emphasize learning from non-authored, vernacular, and informal building practices as a way of establishing a shared grammar for intervention, and they describe an indoor–outdoor continuity not as a stylistic preference but as a response to local life and ventilation logics—where outdoor rooms can be as spatially defined and programmatically central as interior ones. Collaboration, in this framework, is not auxiliary: the studio highlights on-site exchange with craftspeople and builders as a core methodology, where projects evolve through collective intelligence and adaptive communication.
The construction industry today faces an unavoidable paradox: the urgent need for sustainable solutions for the future of cities collides with the exhaustion of the term "sustainability" itself, often reduced to a hollow commercial label. In this scenario, Arquivo – one of the winners of ArchDaily's 2025 Next Practices Award – emerges as a facilitator and mediator between different stakeholders in the construction field through disassembly – or rather, de-construction – and the reuse of building elements. Etymologically, if "construction" derives from the Latin construere (to heap up, assemble), the prefix "de-" imposes a conceptual inversion: it is not about destroying, but about disassembling with intelligence to understand the logic of the parts.
As a major driver of natural resource consumption, energy use, and greenhouse gas emissions, the construction industry has a significant impact on the environment, consuming 32% of global energy and contributing to 34% of global CO₂ emissions. Building materials play a crucial role in shaping the built environment. Through principles of circular economy, renewable and self-sufficient solutions, and technological innovations, analyzing the environmental performance of each material highlights the opportunity to review and assess the different stages of its life cycle.
By establishing a common framework for measuring and managing the environmental impact of building materials, Life Cycle Assessment (LCA) emerges as a key approach. This methodology provides a comprehensive evaluation of the environmental impacts associated with products, processes, or activities throughout their entire life cycle. From raw material extraction, manufacturing, and transportation to construction, use, and end-of-life treatment, the analysis considers the environmental burdens linked to each stage. In the context of building materials, LCA offers a holistic and systematic approach to assessing environmental performance and identifying opportunities for design optimization, among other improvements. In this way, it quantifies impacts such as carbon emissions, energy consumption, water use, air pollution, waste generation, and ecosystem depletion.
Carbonero House (1998). Melipilla, Chile. Image Courtesy of Smiljan Radić
Chilean architect Smiljan Radić Clarke has developed a body of work that resists easy categorization. His buildings often seem both ancient and provisional, carrying a monumental presence while retaining an unexpected sense of fragility. Stone, concrete, timber, fabric, and fiberglass are combined in unexpected ways, producing architectures that hover between permanence and ephemerality. Rather than pursuing a stable formal language, the 2026 Pritzker laureate approaches architecture as an open field of experimentation, where material behavior and structural perception are constantly tested.
Across South America, architecture endures through the materials it uses, those that persist over time. Bamboo, brick, wood, and concrete appear across regions, connecting climate, labor, and culture in ways that ensure their persistence through generations. Their continuity does not depend solely on preservation or heritage. It depends on use.
In this context, cultural memory does not reside primarily in monuments or images, but in practice. It survives in repeated gestures: laying bricks, tying guadua joints, assembling wood frames, casting slabs that anticipate another floor. These actions are transmitted less through manuals than through participation. Over time, they form systems of knowledge embedded in habit and necessity. Materials endure not because they symbolize the past, but because they continue to work.
Courtesy of SolarLab, Photo by doublespacephoto.com. Image RRC Polytech Manitou a bi Bii daziigae / Diamond Schmitt Architects & Number TEN Architectural Group
As environmental accountability becomes embedded in design culture, the building envelope is being reconsidered not just as a protective skin, but as an active energy-producing surface. Treating solar technology as a material rather than an attachment reshapes how architecture is conceived and detailed. Color, texture, rhythm, and assembly become inseparable from performance. Building-Integrated Photovoltaics (BIPV) operate within this expanded definition of materiality. By integrating solar technology into façades and rainscreens from the earliest project stages, architects can reduce redundancy, align energy goals with design intent, and rethink how envelopes are composed. Yet translating this ambition into buildable systems requires technical precision and construction intelligence.
Architectural heritage is not only what a building was, but what itcontinues to become: a long process of building, rebuilding, and re-occupying over time. Where opportunities allow, this continuity produces a layered condition—one in which visitors can witness, experience, and feel the gradual shifting of a building's fabric, materiality, spatial order, and patterns of use, and occasionally even participate in that transformation.
Yet many projects—particularly those driven primarily by commercial imperatives—do not choose to value, or even to recognize, this slower work of adaptive reuse and heritage continuation. Developments governed by a numbers-only logic often opt for the easier path of demolition and rebuild: maximizing plot ratio, GFA, and rentable area with the efficiency of a clean slate. And still, every now and then, an opportunity surfaces that allows us to see—and to enjoy—the city's process of architectural "heritaging" in real time.
The recently inaugurated exhibition matière en résonance ("resonant matter") brings together a wide range of models and a curated selection of photographs to present sauerbruch hutton's ongoing exploration of timber. The exhibition starts from the premise that while the age of concrete defined the twentieth century, the early twenty-first century has seen a worldwide resurgence of timber, a much older building material. Timber is presented as offering "a different version of modernity" and as the subject of renewed interest that reawakens long-standing collective imaginaries. Over more than two decades, the Berlin-based architecture practice has explored the possibilities of timber construction, from façade elements to load-bearing structures and modular systems. The exhibition reflects the results of this sustained investigation, reinforcing both technical innovation and the embodied qualities of timber across a diverse range of European contexts. The exhibition will be on view from 3 to 28 February 2026 at the Galerie d'Architecture de Paris.
Which materials have taken center stage in the architectural discourse of 2025? Which projects have rediscovered new construction practices and methods through material innovation? While the future of building materials still appears uncertain, year after year, experimentation and research continue to reveal diverse practices, initiatives, and efforts dedicated to understanding their value and responsibility within the built environment. From agricultural waste that reduces carbon footprints to recycled plastics given new life, and living materials that engage with emerging technologies while reconnecting with nature, 2025 has highlighted and strengthened the role of architects as mediators between materials, disciplines, knowledge, and interests from diverse origins.
In much of China, concrete remains the dominant construction material. Despite growing concerns over its environmental impact, concrete continues to align with the priorities of many developers and clients—it is fast, cost-effective, and highly durable. As a result, most building types in China still rely heavily on concrete. This reliance is further reinforced by China's position as the world's largest producer of Portland cement. A deeply entrenched supply chain, rooted in raw material manufacturing and economic infrastructure, ensures that concrete remains the default choice in the construction industry.
Yet historically, Chinese architecture was built upon a rich tradition of timber construction. The Forbidden City is a prime example: not only is it emblematic of China's architectural heritage, but it also remains one of the largest and best-preserved collections of ancient wooden structures in the world. This legacy prompts an important question: does timber construction have a meaningful future in China's contemporary building industry?
Architecture has always played a key role in providing shelter and protection for human beings. In prehistoric times, we sought refuge in caves, taking advantage of rock structures for protection against the natural elements and predators. Over time, shelters began to be made from materials found in nature, such as branches, leaves, and animal skins, evolving into more permanent and complex homes, with walls made of stone, bricks or wood, roofs to protect against rain and sun, and doors to control access. As we developed more advanced building skills, we used materials such as wood, stone, and clay and architecture evolved significantly, with the construction of temples, palaces, and fortifications that provided not only shelter but also symbolized power, status, and cultural identity. Even so, our buildings can continue to be seen as shells that protect us from the outside world.
From the massive stones of Greek temples to glazed skyscrapers, we work with a range of possibilities and thicknesses to separate what we consider internal and external. This article seeks to explore this diversity of thicknesses in architecture, from simple materials to complex construction techniques, highlighting how this variation not only provides protection but also influences our perception and interaction with the built environment.
https://www.archdaily.com/1014920/from-thin-veils-to-thick-barriers-exploring-different-widths-in-architectural-envelopesJosé Tomás Franco and Eduardo Souza
Louisiana Channel, a web TV platform based at the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art in Denmark, is launching a new film titled Søren Pihlmann: Make Materials Matter. Over the course of 54 minutes, Marc-Christoph Wagner and Simon Weyhe offer a glimpse into the work and mind of the founding architect of Pihlmann Architects, presenting his vision of Danish architecture, the practice of architecture itself, and, in particular, his sensitivity to materials. The film provides a behind-the-scenes look at the process and thinking behind the Danish exhibition at this year's Venice Architecture Biennale. Led by Søren Pihlmann, the team used the opportunity to renovate and conduct material research on Denmark's permanent building in the Giardini, transforming it into a material laboratory and experimental construction site. The result is a process exhibition that highlights how rethinking and reusing existing structures and materials can address critical architectural challenges. As of today, November 20, the documentary is available to watch online for free.
Hormuz Island, located in Iran, was a strategically significant port in the Persian Gulf, characterized by its landscape of colorful mountains. Despite its tourist appeal, the island faces significant socio-economic problems, with the local population having historically faced economic hardship. In response, the Majara Complex by ZAV Architects was conceived not merely as a building but as a deliberate architectural intervention designed to give control, opportunity, and economic benefit directly to the local community. To do this, the project channeled investment into local human resources and prioritized accessible construction techniques, creating a pathway for localized wealth creation. This allowed the Majara Complex to be one of the recipients of the Aga Khan Award for Architecture in 2025.
Like the famous Russian Matryoshka doll, opening a package often feels like uncovering endless layers. Inside a cardboard box, there might be molded Styrofoam, then several plastic air pillows, and finally, individual plastic wrapping around each piece. Even a small product can leave behind a trail of plastic waste far larger than its size. Now imagine this logic applied to a construction site where every component, every delivery of materials, often arrives wrapped in multiple layers of protection. What already seems excessive in retail becomes monumental when repeated daily on large construction projects.
Interior design has been characterized by infinite alternatives in coatings, finishes, and furniture to achieve unique and unrepeatable spaces. Designers are constantly coming up with innovative solutions and materials specifically created for a distinctive spatial perception. However, there is also a trend that seeks the warmth of the interior spaces by exposing the raw building materials as they are. The richness of materials such as wood and concrete gives that feeling of durability and low maintenance that, combined with an attention-to-detail design, makes spaces look warm yet stay true in essence. See below for 35 examples of interior spaces where concrete and wood appear in their almost purest state.
Wood, one of the oldest building materials, has been continuously reinvented throughout history. As contemporary architecture becomes more and more concerned with sustainability and environmental responsibility, the popularity of the material has also increased. As trees absorb carbon dioxide during their growth, their wood stores that carbon, keeping it out of the atmosphere. The materials derived from wood are thus associated with less greenhouse gas emissions on the condition of trees being harvested from sustainably managed forests. But in order to capture the full potential of this material, a plethora of techniques and modifications have evolved with the purpose of adapting and customizing wood's characteristics to the demands of modern design and construction. From thermal modification to engineered wood or versatile particle boards, these methods not only enhance wood's suitability for the rigors of contemporary architecture but also expand the usability of this sustainable material to an unprecedented scale.
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.
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.
