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.
Little has been written about the work of Abdelmoneim Mustafa, one of the most respected architects in his homeland of Sudan and a pioneer in his profession in the mid-twentieth century. Esra Akcan, who made extensive research of his work with a team in Sudan during a small window of opportunity between 2019 and 2021, laments this lack of recognition thus, "How could someone as gifted as Moneim Mustafa… designer of some of the most exciting mid-century modernist buildings anywhere, be so neglected, so ignored out of Sudan, that to this day there is no internationally accessible publication in his name." Akcan's writings, coupled with the personal blog of Hashim Khalifa, who trained under Mustafa, shed light on his extensive legacy.
"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.
A place of rebirth, the city of Muharraq in Bahrain has undergone a visionary cultural and urban transformation, emerging as a pioneering model for culturally-led regeneration in the Arab world, particularly in the Gulf region. Once the capital of the country's pearling industry, Muharraq has preserved, reinterpreted, and reintegrated its historical legacy into its evolving urban fabric.
Faced with the challenge of redefining its future—marked by an intact urban layout but deteriorating architectural structures—Muharraq envisioned a linear urban narrative, weaving together the memory of the industry through a sequence of key buildings. The city set out to connect the individual properties tied to its pearling past, such as homes of divers, boat captains, and pearl merchants.
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.
The intersection between architecture and neuroscience—known as neuroarchitecture—is emerging as an innovative field, highlighting the significant influence of design, whether in urban spaces or buildings, on human perception, including the sense of safety. This area of study gains relevance in a context where urban architecture is not merely a matter of aesthetics or function, but also a crucial element in creating environments that promote well-being and safety.
Architecture is quintessentially a place-based practice. The amount of local knowledge required to design a building has meant that architects, even many of those with widely spread works, have had concentrations of built projects in individual cities. Giovanni "Gio" Ponti, born and raised in the Italian city of Milan, is one such architect. His projects outside Milan include the Denver Art Museum in the USA and the Villa Planchart in Caracas, Venezuela, as well as university buildings in Padua and Rome, and Taranto Cathedral. However, his works in his native city, such as the Pirelli Tower, best track the development of his architecture and his contribution to product design and publishing.
As architecture navigates a rapidly changing world shaped by ecological urgency, social transformation, and technological acceleration, the notion of intelligence is shifting. No longer confined to individual cognition or artificial computation, intelligence can emerge from cultural memory, collective practices, and adaptive systems. In this broader sense, architecture becomes a field of convergence, where natural, artificial, and social intelligences intersect to offer new ways of designing and building.
Vernacular traditions embed generations of environmental knowledge, often transmitted through materials, construction techniques, and spatial logics finely tuned to local conditions; participatory platforms expand decision-making to wider communities to take part in shaping their environments, redistributing agency in the design process; and computational processes simulate and respond to complex data in real time bringing the capacity to analyse, simulate, and respond to complex variables — whether environmental, social, or behavioural — offering new forms of adaptability.
The twentieth century marked a definitive shift in the realm of architecture, as the Modernist movement broke from traditional building styles and encouraged experimentation and innovation. With the help of new materials and technologies, these times represent a crucial moment in the history of architecture as both cities and building styles evolved at an unprecedented rate. The structures that stand testament to this day are, however, nearing the age of a hundred years old. Their stark design features are not always embraced by the public, while the functionalist principles often hinder the adaptability of their interior spaces. Given that they also often occupy central positions within the city, there is increasing pressure to demolish these structures and redevelop the area in its entirety.
In most situations, architects navigate a complex web of construction codes, airspace regulations, and numerous other rules that dictate the form and execution of a project. However, cultural architecture often presents a unique opportunity for more daring and expressive designs. These projects frequently garner support from local governments, unlocking possibilities for formal explorations that might otherwise remain unrealized. In this regard, cultural architecture serves a dual purpose: enriching the community and establishing iconic landmarks that define the identity of their city or region. This ambition has certainly manifested in Taiwan. Situated in the heart of East Asia, this island nation boasts a remarkable array of formal explorations by both international and Taiwanese architects.
In recent weeks, cities around the world have introduced new policies, recovery efforts, and infrastructure projects that reflect growing pressure to adapt to climate realities. From Southern Europe to South America and the United States, these urban updates address both immediate challenges and long-term shifts in how the built environment is governed, designed, and inhabited. Some initiatives focus on regulation, tightening building codes in fire-prone areas or reforming aging safety systems, while others spotlight large-scale investments tied to global events such as COP30 and the Venice Architecture Biennale. This edition of Architecture Now gathers a selection of city-led actions and collaborative efforts that point toward a more resilient, responsive future for architecture and urban life.
Theaters, concert halls, and opera houses are more than just venues — they are meticulously orchestrated environments where architecture, technology, and human emotion converge. Unlike conventional buildings, these spaces must accommodate a dynamic interplay between acoustics, sightlines, stage mechanics, and audience engagement, all while maintaining an architectural identity that resonates with performers and spectators alike. Whether it is the immersive embrace of a vineyard-style concert hall or the grandeur of a proscenium theater, every design decision shapes how performances are experienced and remembered.
The internal environment is the focus of this second article about designing for noise to improve well-being. According to several recent studies, noise in cities has become an increasing hazard to health. Environmental noise, that is, noise from traffic, industrial activities, or amplified music, which reaches internal spaces, is not merely an annoyance. It has been linked to cardiovascular disease, diabetes, dementia, and mental health issues. As the world urbanizes, more people are exposed to excessive levels of noise. In medium- and high-density housing, in office buildings, and in schools, noise pollution can emanate from internal as well as external sources.
Built on a cluster of 118 small islands in the shallow Venetian Lagoon, the city of Venice, Italy, has captivated the imagination of architects and tourists alike. The area has been inhabited since ancient times, becoming a major financial and maritime power during the Middle Ages and Renaissance, as proven through the rich architecture that characterizes the city to this day. With influences from the Byzantine, Gothic, and Renaissance styles, the city represents a palimpsest of architectural narratives, overlapping and influencing each other. In recent years, Venice has become a major attraction for architects drawn to the La Biennale di Venezia, the most important Architectural Exhibition featuring national pavilions, exhibitions, and events to explore new concepts and architectural innovations.
Beyond the Biennale, Venice itself is an open-air museum for architecture lovers. While the city is best known for its historical buildings, Modernist and contemporary interventions add a new layer of interest, with many contemporary architects working with the historical fabric, like OMA's intervention and rehabilitation of Fondaco dei Tedeschi, or David Chipperfield's renovation of Procuratie Vecchie, one of the buildings that define Piazza San Marco. In addition to what the city has to offer, the site of the Venice Biennale is also marked by interventions by famous architects such as Carlo Scarpa, Sverre Fehn, and Alvar Aalto, made permanent due to their outstanding qualities.
Community benefit is among the first terms mentioned when announcing a new public project. This is especially true in the case of sports halls, promising improvements in well-being and social cohesion. At a closer look, two typologies of sports halls emerge, with varying degrees of involvement with community life: on the one hand, there are large-scale venues dedicated to hosting international competitions, often boosting the capacities of thousands of people, taking on the role of modern landmarks alongside stadiums. On the other hand, there are small-scale multi-purpose sports halls, commonly annexed to schools, dispersed throughout neighborhoods, or present in rural areas with limited access to other public amenities. Despite the often-understated presence, these venues embrace and expand their multi-purpose role by offering opportunities to play, connect, organize events, and support diverse community activities.
A good conversation can make time feel like it's passing more quickly. But is this effect solely due to the verbal exchange, or could our perception of time be shaped by the spatial conditions surrounding us? There are environments that, due to their scale, distribution, and atmosphere, are conducive to meeting, listening, or pausing, thereby influencing the human experience. Perhaps it's not the words we share, but the space in which we speak that truly shapes our understanding of time. Some sociological theories about our society and the built environment go beyond considering it as a mere physical container and suggest that architecture, in its very duality, can act as both an inhibitor and a catalyst for our temporal experiences, impacting our wellbeing.
https://www.archdaily.com/1029304/wellbeing-and-slow-spaces-can-architecture-distort-the-way-we-experience-timeEnrique Tovar
Through his unbuilt projects, built works, and research, Amancio Williams's ideas emerge as the result of a deep understanding of the most advanced trends of his time reflecting on architectural design, urbanism and city planning. By exploring various themes, concepts, and even materials, he aims to create a personal universe that interprets the present as something future-oriented, both international and distinctly Argentine. His proposal "La ciudad que necesita la humanidad" presents linear and layered buildings raised 30 meters above ground, incorporating everything from office spaces to roads and magnetic trains on different levels of a single structure. The Amancio Williams archive at the Canadian Centre for Architecture in Montreal documents Williams' career as an architect and designer from the 1940s to the late 1980s. The fonds documents his work for over 80 architectural, urban planning and design projects, as well as the administration of his architecture practice and his professional activities. Including drawings and sketches, presentation models, photographic materials, such as photographs of models, finished project (when realized), reference images, photographic reproduction of plans, and site photographs, the archive is available to consult offering more details.
