The fragility—and temporal beauty—of neon has captivated audiences since the early 1900s. First shown commercially by French engineer Georges Claude at the 1910 Paris Motor Show, neon spread rapidly, achieving broad popularity in the United States from the 1920s through the 1950s. Mid-century America saw it everywhere: from the casinos of the Las Vegas Strip to roadside motor inns along Route 66 and the spectacle of Times Square. By the latter half of the century, however, many signs were scrapped or left to decay, and numerous municipalities restricted neon as visually garish or power-hungry—despite the technology's comparatively modest energy use. In the U.S., renewed interest in neon arguably didn't meaningfully return until the early 2000s.
In Hong Kong, by contrast, neon was embraced with unusual enthusiasm at a time when it began to lose popularity elsewhere. Even as installation slowed in recent decades—largely due to updated ordinances requiring removal of overhanging signs whose support structures failed to meet safety standards—the city's affinity for neon never fully disappeared.
Between the Andes, the coast, and the Amazon, Ecuador's architecture has evolved as a reflection of its layered geography, a place where climate, topography, and culture unite. Throughout the territory, architecture has been an act of adaptation: from vernacular traditions rooted in collective labor and local materials to the colonial and modernist influences that reshaped its cities. This diversity has produced distinct constructive systems, from bamboo and cane structures along the coast to earth and stone constructions in the Andes, forming an archive of adaptive design that continues to influence contemporary practice.
Yet in the past decade, Ecuadorian architecture has undergone a quiet but deep transformation. New academic programs and international references have encouraged a growing awareness of climate and social justice. Emerging architects are redefining practice through workshops, collective studios, and on-site experimentation that blurs the line between design and activism. No longer focused on architecture as an object, a new generation of architects is approaching design as a process. One focused on collaboration, sustainability, and cultural identity. Their questions have shifted the design language from what to build to with whom.
With just a few days left before the six-and-a-half-month 19th Venice Architecture Biennale comes to an end, it is possible to look back on some of the most notable contributions within its thematic framework. Marked by the largest call for participants to date, the Biennale's diversity of topics and the range of installations on display go beyond easy recapitulation. As part of that reflection, several initiatives can be highlighted as illustrative of the principles reflected in the curatorial theme, "Intelligens. Natural. Artificial. Collective." The concepts interwoven in Carlo Ratti's title form a call to address the urgent need for substantial solutions amid the accelerating climate crisis, positioning the Biennale as a platform for diverse design proposals and experiments organized around three forms of intelligence: natural, artificial, and collective. Beyond the national pavilions and numerous collateral events held throughout Venice over the past six months, among the more than 700 participants are projects that, through practice, embody four shared intentions: opening conversations about the future, proposing systemic responses to local realities, placing technology at the center of design innovation, and pursuing material research rooted in local sensitivity.
Rinshunkaku is a notable example of early Edo-period residential architecture. Originally built in the Wakayama Prefecture by the Kishu Tokugawa family, the villa was relocated to Sankeien, a traditional Japanese garden in the city of Yokohama, during the Taisho era (1912-1926). The garden was created in the early 20th century by businessman and art patron Sankei Hara and features a number of historic buildings relocated from Kyoto, Kamakura, and other areas of Japan. Rinshunkaku, one of the garden's gems, is a prime example of traditional Japanese architecture and wood construction. Its historical value motivated a large-scale restoration project in 2019, documented in the film Artisans of the Reiwa Era (Reiwa no Shokunin-tachi), filmed and edited by Katsumasa Tanaka and Hiroshi Fujiki. The documentary offers a close, detailed view of Japanese craftsmanship and wood expertise, highlighting rare traditional techniques and paying tribute to the artisans who preserve them.
Inside Out, Downside Up Pavilion / Slaatto Morsbøl. Image Courtesy of Copenhagen Architecture Forum Copenhagen Architecture Forum (CAFx)
The first edition of the Copenhagen Architecture Biennial will take place from 18 September to 19 October 2025. Organized by CAFx (Copenhagen Architecture Forum), the event marks a transition from the previous annual Copenhagen Architecture Festival to a more expansive platform for architectural exploration. The theme of the inaugural edition, "Slow Down," invites participants to reflect on how the rapid pace of modern life affects the built environment. According to the organizers, this thematic shift encourages the envisioning of spaces that promote sustainability, longevity, and mindful engagement with our surroundings. In line with this vision, the organization launched an open call earlier this year for pavilion proposals that embody principles of circular design while serving as hubs for public programming during the event. Two winning proposals, modular structures by Slaatto Morsbøl and Tom Svilans x THISS Studio, were selected, each offering an approach to architectural deceleration.
Modular homes are houses either partially or fully constructed in a factory. This process involves creating a series of three-dimensional 'modules' delivered to a site in a predetermined spatial pattern and assembled into a complete product. These homes have become popular solutions to housing crises as they can be produced 50% faster and emit half as much pollution.
However, the locality of the materials used is a significant factor that gives homes their character. It conveys a sense of place, culture, construction history, and local craftsmanship. This raises questions about its role in modular housing: Can local materials be used in the factory production of homes? Can they be combined with a modular framework and temporary connections? What are the limitations of building modular homes in the local contexts of the Global South?
Heatherwick Studio has just been selected to design a new educational facility for a university in Bogotá, Colombia. Marking Heatherwick’s Studio’s debut in South America, the construction is set to begin in 2025. Located on the existing campus in central Bogotá, the new design school and makers’ space for Universidad EAN will become a home for the university’s school of sustainable design. The seven-story structure features a striking façade adorned with colorful artistic columns and open terraces.
Establishing a platform in the Arab world, Design Doha 2024 debuted its inaugural edition in Doha, Qatar. Facilitating dialogues between designers, the event challenges the misconception that the Arab world is composed of a singular culture. It highlights, therefore, the diversity of populations, landscapes, and histories it encompasses.
Centered on "Arab Design Now," a regional survey showcasing the works of over 70 Arab designers, featuring 38 commissioned pieces, Design Doha is running from February 24 to August 5, 2024. ArchDaily had the opportunity to talk to Rana Beiruti, curator of the main exhibition, during the event's opening, to grasp the significance of the biennial and delve into some of the key installations, exploring the stories behind these interventions, learning about the designers involved, and gaining insights into their creative processes.
Advancements in 3D printing technology are progressing at an unprecedented pace, accompanied by a parallel surge in computational power for manipulating and creating intricate geometries. This synergy has the potential to offer architects an unprecedented level of artistic freedom in regards to the complex textures they can generate, thanks to the technology's remarkable high resolution and rapid manufacturing capabilities. If the question of production was out of the way, and architects could now sculpt virtually anything into a facade effectively and efficiently, what would they sculpt?
Snøhetta unveiled the design of a new building and landscape design for the Vesterheim campus in Decorah, Iowa. The campus, which also contains the National Norwegian-American Museum and Folk Art School, explores the diversity of American immigration through the lens of the Norwegian-American experience. The new 8,000-square-foot building, known as “the Commons,” is set to become the entry point and main gathering space for the cultural campus. Aside from anchoring the site, the intervention also aims to strengthen the site’s connection to the city. The building is scheduled to be completed in the Summer of 2023.
Indians have traditionally lived close to the earth, their cultures shaped by symbiotic relationships with ecosystems. Indian arts and crafts strongly rely on nature for its form, philosophy, and existence. Native landscapes aroused the artistic sensibilities of resident communities, evolving craft practices that met utilitarian and ritualistic needs. The intersectionality of ecology and culture is evident through ancestral forms of craft.
Upon becoming a sovereign country, free from British Rule, the people of India found themselves faced with questions they had never needed to answer before. Coming from different cultures and origins, the citizens began to wonder what post-independence India would stand for. The nation-builders now had the choice to carve out their own future, along with the responsibility to reclaim its identity - but what was India's identity? Was it the temples and huts of the indigenous folk, the lofty palaces of the Mughal era, or the debris of British rule? There began a search for a contemporary Indian sensibility that would carry the collective histories of citizens towards a future of hope.
A five-day national festival to seed, incubate and showcase socio-environment design successes. Workshops are three-day hackathons that address design issues in the social realm. Conference as a forum to understand how design can bridge the deficit in the public domain.
Social problems are design problems, and the design community has long felt the need to proactively push for positive change using the potent combination of government, design and active citizens.
This festival ties up with government departments and addresses different problems through three-day workshops, for instance, can we initiate thinking on how to cope with flooding of coastal cities, placing wide-ranging
It is vacation week! Looking to get out of the house and build?
Join the BSA Foundation for a LEGO® Challenge using BSA Space’s extensive collection of LEGO® bricks. What should a new building in Boston look like? Young designers will use the Boston Society of Architects/AIA (BSA) In the Public Interest exhibition as inspiration to design a new building for Boston, then create it with LEGO® bricks.
This drop-in activity is appropriate for children aged five to 13 years old accompanied by a caregiver. A maximum ratio of one adult per three children will be required. Feel free to drop in
I was part of the last generation of architectural students who didn't use computers (we’re only talking the early 1990’s here; there was electricity, color TV’s, rockets, just no renderings.) In my final year at college I miscalculated how long it would take me to finish my thesis project. As the deadline approached, I realized it was too late for me to match my fellow students’ presentations. At the time Zaha Hadid, and her deconstructivist paintings, set the style for architectural illustration. That meant many student projects being rendered in oil paints on large canvases.
Like food and clothing, buildings are essential. Every building, even the most rudimentary, needs a design to be constructed. Architecture is as central to building as farming is to food, and in this era of rapidly advancing technological change farming may offer us valuable lessons.
At last census count there were 233,000 architects in the United States; the 113,000 who are currently licensed represent a 3% increase from last year. In addition there’s a record number of designers who qualify for licensure: more than 5,000 this year, almost the same number as graduates with professional degrees. There is now 1-architect-for-every-2,900 people in the US. A bumper crop, right?
Picking up on the debate surrounding digitization in fabrication and its impact on traditional crafts, Copenhagen-based SPACE10, the future-living laboratory created by IKEA, recently invited three architects—Yuan Chieh Yang, Benas Burdulis, and Emil Froege—to explore the potentials of CNC milling for traditional craft techniques. The architects came up with three divergent yet equally innovative solutions to address the fundamental issue that plagues digital production: an apparent lack of a "human touch." In a Post-Fordist world increasingly dominated by customization, this investigation holds obvious importance for a company which deals primarily in mass-produced ready-to-assemble products; however, with its advocation for the infusion of dying classical craft techniques into the digital manufacturing process, the experiment could be meaningful for many other reasons.
