The habit of sitting at the table and sharing a specific moment with other people has been present for centuries in the most diverse cultures. The Greek Symposium, Roman Convivium, Medieval Feasts and Banquets, and Parisian Salons are just a few examples of how this custom was historically built and has been relevant in social and political negotiations, intellectual discussions, and philosophical debates.
Commensality often serves as a ritual for bonding, negotiation, and celebrating important events. In many Spanish-speaking cultures, the stretch of time after the meal when the entire family stays seated and talks is so present that there is a word for it: sobremesa — literally translated as "upon the table" (though in Spanish it more accurately means "dessert" or "after-meal conversation"). But, despite often being associated with sharing a meal, the table can be considered a flexible platform open to many possibilities for appropriation and interaction.
Today, on the first Monday of October, we celebrate World Architecture Day. This year, the International Union of Architects (UIA) has set the theme "Design for Strength," a powerful call to action that resonates deeply with the UN's focus on urban crisis response. In a world facing unprecedented environmental and social disruptions, this theme challenges us to move beyond temporary fixes. It asks: How can our buildings and cities not only withstand shocks but also foster equity, continuity, and resilience?
While the concept of strength in architecture can easily evoke images of reinforced concrete and steel, a more profound interpretation is emerging, one that defines strength not as mere rigidity, but as a holistic capacity to endure and adapt. This includes many facets, from ecological resilience and stewardship to long-lasting concepts of social resilience or the long-lasting conservation of existing urban structures, all contributing to a built environment more able to respond to the multitude of crises faced by cities worldwide.
Working with the site instead of against it, the exhibition "Architecture is Cooperation," curated by Josep Ferrando, emphasizes the value of cooperation at the essence of architecture. Showcasing the work of professionals, organizations, and communities in cooperation projects driven from Spain, the installation takes shape through an exhibition design in earth and wood. The choice of these materials is understood not only from their aesthetic or symbolic qualities but also from their functionality and commitment to the principles of the circular economy. Until September 30, 2025, the exhibition will be on view at the Casa de la Arquitectura in Madrid, highlighting the necessary attention of architecture to the demands of the most vulnerable societies and communities by aligning the constructive language with the content of the exhibition.
As cities continue to develop, we are seeing ever more well-planned, thoroughly executed, and tightly regulated approaches to shaping urban centres and their surrounding spaces—for better and for worse. As codes, restrictions, and guidelines improve and tighten, urban environments become safer, more balanced, and less prone to surprise. Yet the flip side is that highly managed districts can drift toward over-order and sanitisation, shedding the messy, accretive character that once produced alleyways, residual spaces, and unexpected sequences of movement—conditions often born from ongoing community improvisation in the grey zones of regulation.
In response, a growing number of initiatives around the world are proposing short-term urban installations that test alternate futures for the city. These works aim to provoke dialogue between what the city is and what it could offer its communities through thoughtful, context-specific spatial practices. One notable example is Concéntrico, the international festival in Logroño, Spain, conceived as an urban innovation laboratory. Marking its tenth edition, the festival is about to publish Concéntrico: Urban Innovation Laboratory, a book that surveys a decade of urban design and collective transformation shaped through successive editions of the festival. Its launch is paired with an international tour designed to share a decade of insights on collective transformation and design.
In historic Stone Town, the main city in Zanzibar, Tanzania, the story of one cinema building and its imminent restoration is reflective of the city's history and the narrative of cinemas generally. The early twentieth century saw the advent of cinema construction, peaking in mid-century, before declining against competition with multiplexes and home television. While many were demolished or irreparably altered, many also lay abandoned, like time capsules for a bygone era. They are a snapshot of the architecture styles and methods of their time, acting as a reminder of their role in their communities. Restoring and adapting a cinema like the Majestic is a recognition of its heritage and community value.
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 FijiRural 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.
A good design should be adapted to the user's needs, and participatory design aims to reduce the distance between architects and those for whom the project is made. In this sense, projects for children that welcome them as central actors in the design process demonstrate how the potential of active listening and co-designing is reflected in spaces adapted to a smaller scale and to an audience in a phase of intense learning.
Whether they are kindergartens, schools, community centers, or public spaces, participatory projects with children show how the design process can be an enriching exchange for both sides. On the one hand, children can learn about materials, scales, decision-making, and develop spatial awareness. On the other hand, the architects responsible for making the desires and needs of the young users concrete can learn to exercise sensitivity and imagination and recognize a different worldview focused on discovery. All of this is possible through listening and open dialogue between different age groups.
Riken Yamamoto, born in Beijing in 1945 and raised in Yokohama shortly after World War II, is a Japanese architect celebrated for fostering community through architecture. After founding his practice, Riken Yamamoto & Field Shop, in 1973, he became renowned for works ranging from social housing, such as Hotakubo Housing and Pangyo Housing, to civic projects like the Hiroshima Nishi Fire Station and Saitama Prefectural University, all unified by modular simplicity. Honored in March 2024 as the Pritzker Architecture Prize Laureate, he was praised by jury chair Alejandro Aravena for "blurring boundaries between public and private," fostering spontaneous social interaction, and "bringing dignity to everyday life" by enabling community to flourish through thoughtful design. In this interview with Louisiana Channel, the architect reflects on the social role of architecture, emphasizing the inseparable bond between housing and context, and the need to create spaces that foster visible, meaningful relationships.
While Hong Kong is widely celebrated for its iconic harbor view, glittering skyline, and fast-paced urban lifestyle, its origins tell a different story—one deeply rooted in its relationship with water. Before transforming into a dense, vertical metropolis, Hong Kong's architectural identity was closely tied to its maritime context. Today, the city is often associated with slender, glass-clad towers that symbolize modernity. While visually striking in their pursuit of height and form, many of these buildings appear disconnected from their immediate environment, often overlooking natural site conditions, ecological responsiveness, and contextual sensitivity.
Historically, however, this was not the case. Hong Kong's earliest built environments—rural fishing villages in areas like Tai O, Aberdeen, and Shau Kei Wan—emerged through organic, community-driven spatial practices that engaged closely with their surroundings. These coastal and riverside settlements developed architectural systems tailored to the marine environment and to the rhythms of fishing life. Villages were sited around water, and construction strategies were adapted to fluctuating tides, terrain, and social use.
Facing an interconnected planetary climate crisis, biodiversity loss, and resource depletion, regenerative design emerges as a pathway toward building resilient and ecologically attuned rural futures. At the intersection of architecture, agriculture, and local ecosystems, new models of resilient, self-sufficient agricultural practices are emerging. These projects are not grand industrial systems but small-scale, precise, and deeply contextual architectural interventions that create spaces that foster sustainable cultivation while respecting environmental rhythms, local materials, and community knowledge.
Waru Waru agricultural field. Image via World Monuments Fund
Offering a path toward resilience and food security in the alluvial plains of Lake Titicaca, the Waru Waru agricultural fields are spread across the Peruvian highlands and constitute an ancient agricultural system. Connecting an ancestral legacy with modern concerns about water and food security, climate resilience, and sustainable land management, these agricultural systems open the debate about efficient water management and the importance of agricultural biodiversity. At the same time, they are part of the sense of identity and pride of the local Aymara community, consolidating cultural knowledge that is passed down and preserved across generations.
Amidst global economic adjustments and a domestic focus on high-quality development, Shanghai has implemented a strategic shift in its urban development approach—moving from 'incremental expansion' to 'connotative enhancement.' Guided by the concept of a "people-oriented city", Shanghai has elevated urban construction from mere physical space aggregation to a comprehensive endeavor aimed at optimizing functional quality, revitalizing spatial vitality, and boosting residential resilience through urban renewal initiatives. This transformation is framed not merely as a response to resource constraints but also as an intentional approach to urban development principles. Its core proposition lies in: under the policy framework of strictly controlling incremental land use, how to unleash development potential through the "reproduction" of existing spaces.
One notable example is Tai Hang, among the earlier settlements established by the Hakka people in Hong Kong. Originally located along a water channel that flowed from the nearby mountains to the sea, the area was once a vital washing site for villagers—hence its name, which literally means "Big Drainage." Before extensive land reclamation, Tai Hang sat quite close to the shoreline. Today, it lies nearly 700 meters inland.
As cities worldwide navigate evolving social, environmental, and cultural priorities, recent project announcements showcase how architecture is increasingly conceived as both civic infrastructure and a catalyst for collective identity. From Populous' new stadium design in Thessaloniki that blurs the lines between sport and urban life, to HENN's transparent cultural stage in Augsburg that invites community participation, these projects illustrate architecture's expanding role beyond its immediate function. In Luxembourg, Schmidt Hammer Lassen's work for the European Investment Bank reimagines institutional spaces through sustainability and heritage, while SLA and GHD's new island community in Toronto pushes forward nature-based, climate-adaptive urbanism. This edition ofArchitecture Now brings together diverse yet interconnected efforts to shape how architecture can support long-term ecological, cultural, and civic impact.
In an effort to foster a sense of belonging among its inhabitants, to value ancestral cultures, and to preserve identity, the Latin American region embraces an architecture rich in nuances and regional characteristics. The use of local materials and construction techniques, or the dialogue between modular and vernacular approaches, among other aspects, reflect the intention to promote the involvement of native communities, students and their families, Iindigenous peoples, and local builders in the design and construction processes of a wide variety of rural schools throughout Latin America.
