The ancient city of Venice, Italy, home to both the art and architecture editions of the Venice Biennale, is known for its unique geography as an island city of canals. Its naval and mercantile prominence now diminished, the city has found a new purpose as a center of learning, exhibiting, and tourism. However, its urban morphology and, indeed, most of its buildings are historic and have remained largely unchanged for hundreds of years. Their appearance exhibits a specific Venetian vernacular that has stood the test of time and stands as a backdrop for the city's contemporary activities. How do the facades of these buildings, particularly their windows, reflect this history? And how do the few modern buildings in the city, such as the Palazzo Nervi-Scattolin, respond to this weight of history?
Gyumri, the capital of Armenia's Shirak region and the country's second-largest city, was historically known for its culture and architectural heritage. While it was part of the Soviet Union, the city hosted many factories that turned it into a primary industrial center in the region, reaching a population of approximately 225,000 people. However, during the past decades, Gyumri has seen a considerable population decline as a consequence of a devastating earthquake that destroyed the city in 1988 and killed thousands of people. More than 30 years later, Gyumri's regeneration process is still unfolding. The city's ongoing efforts to restore its built environment and boost economic development offer valuable insights into how urban regeneration can be navigated in the aftermath of disaster.
Living in densely populated cities is a reality for many. While the benefits of urban living—such as proximity to amenities, infrastructure, job opportunities, and lifestyle—remain highly valued, homes have seen a significant reduction in square footage. The trend toward smaller apartments has become increasingly common, with interior design playing a fundamental role. Reducing square meters demands efficient use of space and smart floor plan layouts. However, far from generating dull spaces, creativity in design has led to interesting architectural solutions that condense high-quality living into what is often called a micro apartment or studio, studios of 40m2 or under.
In recent years, architecture has increasingly embraced adaptability, flexibility, and responsiveness as core design principles. This evolution reflects a shift from traditional notions of static, permanent structures to dynamic environments that can adjust to changing needs and conditions. Central to this transformation is the concept of "soft architecture", which leverages pliable materials and innovative systems to create spaces that are functional, sustainable, and user-centric. Soft architecture takes shape through membranes that breathe, façades that move, structures that inflate or fold, and surfaces that bend rather than break. It involves designing for transformation — not only in how a building performs environmentally, but also in how it can accommodate shifting functions, user interactions, or temporary occupations. This approach to building challenges traditional notions of durability and control, proposing instead a more responsive and open-ended architecture. It reflects a growing awareness that buildings, like the societies they serve, must be able to evolve.
Boise, United States. Image via Wikipedia user: Fæ. License under CC0 1.0. Image Author: Alden Skeie
From greenhouse gas emissions and air pollution to deforestation, one of the leading contributors to global warming today is emissions from the transportation sector. Exploring its origins and evolution, as well as the major challenges it faces, the development of electric mobility in urban environments represents a global transition that requires a coordinated mix of policies and actions to achieve cleaner and more sustainable transportation systems. Designing safe and comfortable infrastructure for walking and cycling, promoting public transit and shared mobility, and designing more efficient streets that include electric vehicles, among other actions, are part of a growing worldwide effort to reduce carbon emissions.
In the United States, nearly 1 in 10 children are affected with asthma, a condition with rates significantly higher in urban areas of the country. However, in a community just outside Atlanta with a population of more than 300 children, not a single case of the condition has been reported. This is by design. Most cities and neighborhoods across the country are not designed with human biology in mind, an oversight that contributes to the growing prevalence of cardiovascular disease and mental health challenges. Are we treating chronic conditions as purely medical, when they may actually be symptoms of poor design?
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.
MVRDV and Delft University of Technology Release _Le Grand Puzzle_, an Urban Study of Marseille in the South of France. Image Courtesy of HÇläne Bossy, Manifesta
In architecture, most practices revolve around delivering projects to clients. Offices are shaped by deadlines, budgets, and clear briefs. While this structure produces buildings, it rarely leaves space for architects to question broader issues — about how we live, how cities are changing, or what the future demands of design. But alongside this production-focused system, a quieter movement has emerged: studios, collectives, and foundations that prioritize research, experimentation, and reflection. These are the architecture think tanks — spaces designed not to build immediately, but to think first.
The idea of a think tank is not new. Traditionally found in politics, economics, or science, think tanks bring together experts to study complex problems and propose solutions. In architecture, their rise reveals a tension at the heart of the discipline. If architecture is to remain socially and environmentally relevant, can it continue to rely only on client-driven practice? Or must it carve out space for slower, deeper inquiry?
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.
Heritage restoration has always been an intricate process that requires delicate balancing between preserving the integrity of historic materials while integrating contemporary techniques that can enhance accuracy, efficiency, and resilience. With the restoration process of Parliament Hill in Ottawa, Canada's capital city, this intersection of tradition and technology is now on full display. The East Block, built in 1865, offers a compelling example of how digital tools can support the efforts of heritage restoration and contribute to a centuries-old craft such as stone carving.
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.
