Can architecture be built from food? Between the fire that warms, the smells that spread, and the bodies that gather around the table, the apparent banality of cooking and eating reveals itself as a choreographed dance of spatial appropriation and belonging. These gestures organize routines, produce bonds, and transform the built environment into lived place. The kitchen—domestic, communal, or urban—thus ceases to be merely a functional space and affirms itself as a territory of encounter.
In Latin America, encounters do not necessarily arise from grand architectural gestures or monumental urban plans. They emerge from the in-between, from intermediate spaces: the courtyard, the veranda, the sidewalk, the shared corridor. These areas, often considered residual or informal by the traditional architectural discipline, are precisely where everyday life builds bonds.
From this Latin American culture comes a spatial logic in which daily life is organized in a relational and expansive way. Practices such as sitting at the front door, occupying the sidewalk, and playing in the street produce a lived city that extends beyond the formal limits of design.
Across cities worldwide, architecture unfolds continuously at the scale of people and community—not only through new buildings, renovations, or monumental works. "Third spaces" are especially revealing. Consider the street-side culinary realm: how seating, serving, and lingering occupy the edge of the street often discloses a city's cultural codes and spatial habits. What forms of dining and inhabitation have emerged in response to local climate, regulation, and social custom—and how have they evolved over time?
In parts of Europe, for instance, al fresco in Italy and en terrasse in France name culturally specific ways of dining in public, drawing the meal into the urban field—attuned to weather, air, and the passive sociability of people-watching. Since COVID-19, New York City has similarly expanded outdoor dining, reflecting a community-driven desire to engage the streetscape while eating—an everyday, street-level "third place" within a dense metropolis.
Among the 2025 Aga Khan Award winners is AAU Anastas and their project, Wonder Cabinet in Palestine, whose central aim is to serve as a haven for culture and creativity and a bridge between design and production. Beyond this meaningful project, AAU Anastas—working from offices in Bethlehem, Palestine, and Paris, France—has built a broad portfolio since 2015. Notable works include Dar Al Majous, a restoration in Bethlehem that challenges the boundary between domestic and public realms; the Tulkarm Courthouse (2015), one of their first projects that redefined civicness and social gathering on a prominent corner site in Tulkarm; and The Flat Vault, a commercial intervention that adds a juxtaposed stone vault to an existing monastery shop associated with a church built in the 12th century by the Crusaders.
Among these compelling works, Wonder Cabinet likely drew the jury's attention not only for its refined execution and layered spatial complexity, but also for how it operates as a socially generative platform—dissolving the boundary between social infrastructure and architecture. Conceived to support culture, creativity, design, and production, the building aspires to host architects, designers, chefs, artisans, and sound and visual artists, among others. In no small way, it advances the spirit articulated by the 2025 judges, who characterized this cycle as a year of fostering resilience and optimism through design, by demonstrating how architecture can catalyze community and enterprise simultaneously.
The exhibition Coming Together: Reimagining America's Downtowns, held at Washington, D.C.'s National Building Museum, explores the transformations underway in the United States' downtowns and the ways communities have organized to shape alternative urban scenarios. Curated by Uwe S. Brandes, Professor at Georgetown University, and designed by Reddymade and MGMT., it is the first of three major exhibitions within the Museum's Future Cities initiative, an interdisciplinary project examining the city as a hub, catalyst, essential building block, and reflection of society. Coming Together features examples from more than 60 U.S. cities, both large and small, highlighting lessons learned and opportunities embraced in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic as communities adapt to lasting changes in work, housing, mobility, entertainment, and recreation. The exhibition is currently open to the public and will remain on view through Fall 2026.
When Hudson Yards opened in Manhattan in 2019, it promised a new urban neighborhood built from scratch. 16 towers with 4,000 residential units were erected in hopes of creating a strong community. Despite its lavish amenities and lofty public plazas, a peculiar emptiness persisted. The development felt anonymous, speaking to a fundamental truth about human social capacity.
Domestic workers in Hong Kong and Singapore are the city's quiet infrastructure. In Hong Kong alone, there are a total of roughly 300,000 domestic workers, serving a portion of the approximate 2.7 million households. Their care labor sustains dual-income family routines: childcare, eldercare, cooking, cleaning, and the everyday logistics that make professional life possible. Yet the people who hold this balance together remain largely invisible in policy—and, crucially, in space.
On Sundays in Hong Kong's financial district, that invisibility becomes visible. Elevated walkways and podium forecourts—underused on weekends—turn into ad-hoc commons. With cardboard mats, small tents, towels, food and water, and a music speaker or two, domestic workers assemble places to sit, rest, and socialize. These improvised rooms in the city are often their only chance to exercise spatial agency—something they rarely have in the homes they maintain or in formal public infrastructure. In the absence of sanctioned, serviced places for rest, quieter bridges and passages become practical stand-ins.
Architecture has historically produced many iconic buildings shaped by singular visions—often designed unilaterally for users, communities, and cities. While this top-down approach has enabled strong formal coherence and conceptual clarity, it has also prioritized authorship over engagement. The result: projects that may be celebrated as visionary, yet often feel disconnected from the everyday realities of those who inhabit them.
Designing for others is inherently complex. As architects, we are frequently tasked with creating environments for communities with whom we may have no personal or cultural familiarity. This distance, however, can offer valuable objectivity. It allows us to engage diverse perspectives with fresh eyes, critically analyzing the needs and constraints of multiple stakeholders. Through this process, the discipline of architecture has advanced—pushing boundaries in spatial thinking, material innovation, and structural experimentation.
The Land Art Generator Initiative (LAGI) has announced the winners of its 2025 competition in Marou Village, Fiji. Developed in partnership with the local community and supported by the Fiji Department of Energy, the Fiji Rural Electrification Fund, and the United Nations Development Program, LAGI 2025 invited designers from around the world to envision renewable energy and water systems that could also serve as cultural and social spaces. From over 200 entries representing 45 countries, two projects were selected: The O by Alberto Roncelli and Ligavatuvuce by Young Kang.
August 12, designated by the United Nations as International Youth Day since 1998, was conceived as an occasion to bring youth issues to the forefront of the international agenda and to celebrate the contributions of young people to today's global society. Each year, the observance focuses on a specific theme. In 2025, it is "Local Youth Actions for the SDGs and Beyond," emphasizing the role of youth in transforming global ambitions into community-driven realities. The aim is to highlight how young people help implement the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) within local contexts and bridge the gap between policy and practice. In this spirit, we present three educational programs, in Romania, the United Kingdom, and the United States, that empower youth to deepen their understanding of the built environment and envision a more sustainable, people-friendly urban future.
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.
Adaptive reuse has become a buzzword in the architecture industry. Framed as a sustainable and economical solution to urban decay, the practice has been adopted by cities facing pressures of climate change, real estate constraints, and cultural preservation. Architects are increasingly being hired to rehabilitate the old rather than build anew. Within this discourse is a growing sentiment towards who gets to reuse and how.
The architecture of cultural and community centers in rural areas around the world has become a rich field for experimentation, where tradition and innovation intersect. Rather than replicating standardized urban models, these projects embrace contemporary approaches tailored to local realities, blending bold design, sustainable technologies, and collaborative processes. Often developed in close partnership with local communities, they draw on regional materials and cultural symbols to create spaces that do more than host activities: they express a collective identity and a profound sense of belonging. By reimagining vernacular knowledge through a modern lens, these buildings support and inspire new ways of living in the countryside.
Humans and pets have long shared a deep and inseparable bond—and today, how we live alongside them is becoming increasingly important. Beyond offering companionship, pets are now often regarded as life partners, providing powerful support for mental health and emotional well-being. Yet it is not only the emotional connection that matters: the way we design and curate spaces for cohabitation with them plays a critical role in shaping meaningful spatial relationships between humans and their animal companions.
Whether through custom-designed furniture or more seamlessly integrated solutions like wall cavities and built-in nooks, an increasing amount of attention is being paid to how we can better coexist with pets in our homes. This shift reflects more than just affluence or pet ownership; it signals a broader evolution of companionship—one rooted in mutual support, emotional health, and shared environments.
Foster + Partners is developing a comprehensive masterplan for Maratué, a 1,045-hectare site located along the Puchuncaví coast in Chile. Developed for Inmobiliaria Maratué, the project seeks to reconnect the existing town of Puchuncaví with its coastal edge, while conserving and enhancing the region's diverse natural landscapes. The masterplan aims to create a sustainable framework for long-term development, balancing residential growth with environmental protection.
The modern world is disconnected. Online interactions dominate the daily lives of people across the world. This shift is not just a result of the rise of the internet, but also a stark reflection of the decline of public spaces, particularly third places. Third places, once essential for promoting community and social cohesion, have evolved drastically over the past few decades. In today's commercialized landscape, third places face plenty of demands from users and designers alike, calling for a need to reconsider their accessibility and purpose.
Social fragmentation and economic divides have fractured the fabric of urban environments. In this context, ecovillages emerge as influential remedies to societal and ecological crises, microcosms where sustainable living, social cohesion, and economic resilience drive urban growth. Rooted in environmental stewardship and circular systems, ecovillages offer a scalable model to inspire the development of regenerative urban neighborhoods across the world. Traditional urban and suburban development has led to sprawl and social isolation which have had detrimental effects on community cohesion and the environment. Alongside this phenomenon, cities have become inhumane, characterized by anonymity, unaffordable housing, traffic congestion, and pollution. The lack of access to nature solidifies these issues, leaving many urban dwellers disconnected from elements that promote well-being and a sense of belonging.
A "meanwhile space" refers to the temporary use of an otherwise vacant area—whether it's an empty shop, a disused building, or a site awaiting redevelopment. The concept revolves around making productive use of these spaces during the interim period before a long-term purpose is established. Essentially, it's about what happens in the meantime, turning unused spaces into vibrant, functional places during periods of uncertainty or transition.
