In the year 2000, the Royal Institute of British Architects (RIBA) awarded its prestigious Stirling Prize to Peckham Library, by architects Alsop and Stormer. Although it wasn't the first time for a library to win the prize, it was the first time a local library won it. It was an illustration of the times when public finances could conjure briefs with the intention to "create a building of architectural merit that will bring prestige to the borough." The library was commended for the public open space it created, its fun and colorful design, and its environmental credentials. It sits proudly in the heart of the community and it is interesting that its sign, projecting above the roof line, simply spells 'Library', an indication of the importance of this building's function to the area.
One of the biggest current challenges in large cities is the housing crisis and the lack of efficient solutions to mitigate its effects on citizens. This problem is exacerbated in cities where tourism and vacation or temporary housing dominate the market, distancing residents from the possibility of accessing affordable urban housing. Furthermore, gentrification, driven by rising rents and real estate speculation, contributes to the displacement of local communities, transforming traditional neighborhoods into areas exclusively oriented toward tourist consumption.
Architecture has long been understood as a powerful tool for shaping the physical environment and social dynamics within it. However, its potential to foster social equity is often overlooked. Empathy-driven design invites architects to approach their work not only as creators of space but as facilitators of human connection and community well-being. This approach centers on understanding people's lived experiences, struggles, and aspirations — particularly marginalized communities — and responding to their needs through thoughtful, inclusive architecture. It goes beyond aesthetics and functionality, instead focusing on creating spaces fostering dignity, accessibility, and social equity. By prioritizing empathy, architects can design environments that uplift communities, address disparities, and create inclusive spaces that promote positive societal change in a tangible, human-centered way.
Faced with the aging of the global population, one of the most significant social transformations of the 21st century is anticipated. The design of patios, gardens, terraces, and other green areas in facilities for the elderly presents an opportunity to foster interaction, participation in various collective activities, and the establishment of gathering spaces aimed at reducing loneliness among older adults while enhancing well-being and social interaction in connection with nature. How can built environments be created to adapt to the needs of older adults?
It's that time of year again: students and their families are busy preparing for the start of school, while some of us are gearing up to step in front of the classroom. While preparing to teach an intro course on climate, I'm reminded of why we use the term climate change and not global warming.
Yes, the Earth is warming from a thickening layer of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere caused by us. But climate changes range from sea level rise to increasing storms, floods, fires, and drought, which are all negatively impacting biodiversity as well. So, not just warming. Recent storms that battered the eastern U.S. coast and Bermuda remind us of this difference. While some communities face extreme heat, others brace for storms and rising waters, and many face multiple impacts.
With escalating land values in urban centers, there has been a growing trend to float public spaces from ground level to elevated locations, such as rooftops or podiums between buildings. From a development perspective, maximizing floor area has become crucial as urban environments expand. Ground-level spaces are highly sought after for retail use due to their strategic location, which attracts foot traffic and potential customers and drives city development and economics.
This financial consideration, which often guides building activities and directions in urban centers, contradicts design principles advocated during the modernist era for the benefits of better outdoor space for the public, such as the concept of 'Freeing the Ground'. Architects like Le Corbusier championed this concept through projects like Villa Savoye and Unite d' Habitation. These modernist designs envisioned a future where buildings were elevated to restore open, accessible outdoor ground-level spaces for its users. However, for the reasons above, many contemporary projects instead seek to replicate the function of public grounds within the building's structure.
Large-scale infrastructure projects often aim to connect distant locations within urban areas, facilitating quicker transportation, logistics, and commercial activities along their routes. However, while these projects link distant destinations, their substantial physical presence can significantly affect local communities. This may result in the disconnection and disengagement of previously connected neighborhoods, the disruption of public spaces, and generally negative outdoor experiences caused by noise, pollution, and lack of attention and maintenance to these infrastructures.
Nevertheless, several successful built environment projects have re-integrated contentious infrastructure into the community through thoughtful design of outdoor spaces, with Paris' Coulée verte René-Dumont being one of the first examples and New York's High Line being one of the most prominent examples. The High Line demonstrates how well-conceived outdoor projects can address the alienation caused by extensive infrastructure, foster community reconnection, serve as cultural and economic hubs, and even spur further economic redevelopment, as in Hudson Yards.
Resisting an adverse context and navigating its restrictions, Grupo Finca emerges, a collective that explores the practice of architecture from an artistic and pedagogical dimension in Havana, Cuba. Given the complexity of the country's political and social situation, informal architecture is common: low resources, difficulty in obtaining materials, high costs, and a lack of skilled labor, among other challenges, are some of the obstacles faced by independent architecture professionals. Coupled with the absence of a regulatory legal framework that would allow them to work formally in the labor market or acquire materials and supplies, the construction of contemporary architecture in Cuba is relegated to independent processes that can somehow overcome these barriers.
The Chile Pavilion, recently revealed by Constructo Architects for Expo Osaka 2025, blends contemporary industrial design and traditional Mapuche textile artistry. Constructed using industrialized wood (CLT) and featuring handwoven textiles, the pavilion emphasizes both innovation and cultural heritage. The structure is designed to be a "nomadic pavilion," easily assembled and disassembled, allowing it to travel from Chile to Japan and back.
How is it possible to open educational spaces to the outdoors, and what are the appropriate conditions for their development? What bioclimatic strategies can be implemented to contribute to environmental comfort and the cultural preservation of communities? By conceiving outdoor learning spaces and blurring the boundaries between indoors and outdoors, the educational infrastructures projected by the Semillas association in the Peruvian jungle invite reflection on the opportunities for gathering, meeting, and community participation among students, families, and local residents. Linked to the site's uses and customs, this conception of space represents a way of living where the implementation of bioclimatic strategies, along with the use of local materials and construction techniques, come together to create an architecture connected to its environment and history.
A region's identity is deeply tied to its community spaces. These spaces—whether parks, public squares, or community centers—reflect their users' culture, history, and values. They don't just preserve regional identity; they actively shape how communities engage with their environment, fostering a dynamic relationship between place and people. Community spaces are more than just physical locations; they are vital social hubs that foster engagement, cultural expression, and a sense of belonging. These spaces symbolize a shared identity and purpose.
How have architecture and building design adapted to unforeseen future uses? As cities evolve, their needs for buildings inevitably change. Buildings may transition between cultural, commercial, industrial, and office functions depending on a city's identity and economic activity. In a world that is becoming increasingly dynamic and fast-paced, it's essential to consider the challenges static structures face when required to meet new demands. Cities have repurposed these static structures in ways not anticipated during their original design, with many successes in repurposing industrial buildings. Unlike structures designed with flexibility in mind, most manufacturing facilities were not initially intended for multiple uses. Yet, how have cities, communities, and occupants used these spaces, and what are the challenges of transforming a building’s existing uses?
Naturally, a higher population density prevents the formation of ghost towns and vacant shops, which can become hotbeds for crime. However, these positive views on dense living environments often rest on optimistic assumptions about urbanism, such as minimal friction among individuals, easily maintained hygiene and a natural formation of diversity.
Ephemeral architectures, characterized by their temporary and flexible nature, have emerged as powerful tools for revitalizing urban spaces and fostering architectural creativity. These transient installations transform public areas, engaging communities, and prompting reflections on the potential futures of our cities. By temporarily transforming environments, ephemeral architectures encourage both architects and the public to reimagine the possibilities of urban living. This dynamic interplay, between the temporary and the permanent, challenges traditional architectural practices and opens up new avenues for sustainable and inclusive urban development.
The office building typology emerged from the need to unite thousands of people within a relatively strict working environment. In major cities, these structures clustered into Central Business Districts (CBDs), which became dedicated neighborhoods accommodating commerce and businesses. However, the COVID-19 pandemic disrupted this model, leading to the rise of remote and hybrid work. Now, nearly four years later, occupancy rates in these urban centers remain lower than pre-pandemic levels, signaling a long-term shift in the work environment. To address this challenge, developers have been increasingly looking into “repositioning” their projects, seeking to redefine their image by adapting them to contemporary demands. This typology considers the surrounding urban fabric, aiming to expand the building’s use beyond its original purpose and attract people back to the CBDs.
According to the United Nations, indigenous people are "place-based" ethnic cultures that have not migrated from their initial homeland. In today's world, with human-caused climate change driving extreme weather events and a growing demand for authenticity and cultural diversity, architects are increasingly turning to indigenous knowledge systems not only as sources of inspiration but as viable solutions to adapt and respond to local and global challenges. As traditional custodians of the land, Indigenous communities possess a profound understanding of their ecosystems, locally available materials, cultural norms, and social constraints. This knowledge holds insights valuable for shaping contemporary architecture, helping it adapt to both the people and their environments.
Vernacular and indigenous practices are emerging as a foundation for architectural reimagining, informing spatial lays, the choice of materials, and building techniques while also allowing for the integration of innovation and contemporary expression. This careful blend of tradition and modernity can have a significant impact in terms of sustainability, as architects who adopt the indigenous approach to harnessing available resources can not only create structures rooted in their context but also minimize the ecological impact of the construction. Additionally, collaborating directly with Indigenous communities leads to projects that prioritize community participation, cultural sensitivity, and sustainable development.
At the initiative of the Surf Ghana Collective, architects Glenn DeRoché and Jurgen Strohmayer, the co-founders of DeRoché Strohmayer, set out to transform a small waterfront plot in Busua, a surfing hotspot on Ghana’s western coast. The result is a dynamic community hub, complete with amenities for local surfers, but also providing spaces for the entire community to gather in and off-season. The project has been recognized as the winner of the Gold Prize of Holcim Awards 2023 for the Middle East and Africa commended for the profound local impact and the resourceful approach to construction techniques.In a video interview for ArchDaily, architects Glenn DeRoché and Jurgen Strohmayer discuss the development of this initiative and the innovations that shaped it.
Cities constantly undergo infinite changes, leaving many spaces within the urban fabric forgotten and unused. Historic buildings are refurbished, and adaptive reuse explores new possibilities, but what happens with public spaces? Small interventions using simple resources and innovative solutions are the perfect way to bring these neglected alleys, plazas, and highways back to life and reincorporate them into the city.
