Meet the architects and designers of the future as their newest work comes together, and take a peek behind the doors of the world's #1 university for art and design.
Across recent years, architectural discourse has been shaped by the emergence of new voices, rediscovered territories, and a growing commitment to shared forms of knowledge. These concerns remain fully present in 2025 as ongoing debates that continue to gain density and nuance. Questions of who produces architecture, from which contexts, and under what conditions remain central, increasingly informed by practices that operate collectively, across disciplines, and beyond singular authorship.
This continuity is reflected in how architecture is understood less as a finished object and more as an ongoing process embedded in social, cultural, and environmental systems. Discussions around agency, participation, and knowledge production persist, alongside sustained attention to rural, peripheral, and historically marginalized contexts. Rather than privileging a single scale or geography, architecture is approached as a practice that moves between territories, acknowledging the unequal conditions that shape how spaces are designed, built, maintained, and inhabited.
This past year marked a period of introspection for architecture. As 2025 unfolded, the discipline, confronted with evolving environmental and social realities, entered a broader turning point in how it understands its role and how users engage with it. Throughout the year, exhibitions shifted focus away from buildings as isolated objects toward a broader understanding of relationships between ecology, equity, everyday life, and collective imaginaries. Across institutions and cities, they operated less as showcases and more as discursive platforms: places where architecture was not only presented, but also imagined, questioned, and collectively redefined.
While exhibitions have long functioned as sites of discourse, politics, and community, this role became more explicit in 2025. As Carlo Ratti noted in an ArchDaily interview during the pre-opening of the Venice Architecture Biennale 2025, exhibitions today can "hybridize the way that people come together," an ambition that echoed across cities and institutions as exhibitions evolved into spaces for debate, experimentation, and collective reflection. Exhibitions are places where architects and designers meet, where conversations unfold openly with the public, and where ideas emerge through spontaneous exchanges among passersby. Exhibitions became spaces where architectural discourse extended beyond professional circles, opening conversations to broader publics through everyday encounters, shared experiences, and informal exchanges.
The future of cities has long been defined by intelligence: networks of sensors, data, and engineered systems. From traffic-flow algorithms to climate dashboards, the smart city promised to make urban life optimized, measurable, and predictable. Yet amid this technological abundance, something essential feels absent: sensitivity. Cities are becoming increasingly equipped to process information but less able to perceive atmosphere, emotion, or care.
As recent global debates on urban innovation reveal, the next challenge is not about adding more devices but cultivating new forms of awareness. A sensitive city listens to its climate, adapts to its inhabitants, and responds to the subtle rhythms of the environment. In this shift from computation to perception, architecture and urban design are rediscovering intelligence as a form of empathy.
The conversation with VOID emerges within the framework of the 2025 Latin American Architecture Biennial, offering an opportunity to explore a practice that listens, cares, and accompanies. Their work unfolds as an act of mediation: through interdisciplinary research and attention to the plurality of natural and social factors, they seek to understand the many natures of a place. Since its beginning in 2012, this process has evolved, consolidating a stance that seeks to design architecture from and for the place—caring for it, healing it, and regenerating it—opening spaces where territories sustain and unfold their own adaptive processes.
Chimneys are among the most quietly persistent elements in architectural history. Yet their presence persists in nearly every cultural and climatic context, serving as a technical feature and a spatial, atmospheric, and symbolic device. It populates dense city skylines and anchors rural horizons alike, its vertical silhouette as ordinary as a window or a doorframe. This apparent ordinariness is deceptive. The chimney is one of the few architectural components that links the intimate scale of interior life with the expansive forces of the environment. For architects and designers, the necessity of the chimney presents a choice: to let it recede quietly into the building's functional fabric or to amplify it as a central, expressive element that shapes a project's identity.
Tourism in Portugal began to develop in the late 1950s, initially centered on key destinations such as the Algarve coast, Lisbon, and the religious hub of Fátima. This focus made tourism largely a coastal activity. However, rapid growth and overburdened infrastructure in these areas led to saturation and a crisis in the sector. To address this, efforts were made to promote alternative destinations, appealing to a new wave of tourists looking for more sustainable, authentic, and locally immersive experiences.
Shenzhen is China's first Special Economic Zone（SEZ), serving as a window for China's Reform and Opening-up and an emerging immigrant city. It has evolved into an influential, modern, and international metropolis, creating the world-renowned "Shenzhen Speed" and earning the reputation of the "City of Design." Architectural design stands as the most intuitive expression of Shenzhen's spirit of integration and innovation. Over the past decade (2015-2025), the development of urban architecture in Shenzhen has closely integrated with its open and inclusive urban character, ecological advantages of being nestled between mountains and the sea, and the local spirit of blending traditional culture with innovative technology, showcasing Shenzhen's unique charm and robust vitality across multiple dimensions.
The Nile Delta, in blue the rise of mean sea level with a 2°C increase above pre-industrial levels, Sentinel data. Territorial Agency: Oceans in Transformation, 2020
How heavy is a city, and what does that weight mean for our collective future? This provocative question guides the 7th edition of the Lisbon Architecture Triennale, which proposes an inquiry into the transformations of urban life and the material, social, and environmental consequences of inhabiting the planet today. From October 2 to December 8, Lisbon will once again host one of Europe's most significant architectural events.
Curated by Ann-Sofi Rönnskog and John Palmesino, founders of the practice Territorial Agency, the Triennale investigates the magnitude of contemporary cities and their planetary impact. Composed of nearly 30 trillion tons of materials, global cities form a dense and intricate web of continuously evolving structures. To unpack these complexities, the Triennale opens itself as a space of learning, curiosity, imagination, and debate — a meeting ground for architects, researchers, artists, and the wider public.
https://www.archdaily.com/1034626/how-heavy-is-a-city-exploring-the-lisbon-architecture-triennale-2025ArchDaily Team
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.
Located on a farm in southern India, the Rice Museum occupies the upper floor of Syed Ghani's home, nestled in the verdant agricultural landscape of Mandya — a region shaped by brick structures, expansive greenery, and ancestral farming knowledge. Syed Ghani, a farmer, historian, and museologist, has dedicated himself to preserving indigenous rice varieties through seed conservation, proliferation, and educational initiatives. With the support of local farmers, he has helped recover more than 1,000 native paddy (rice) varieties, safeguarding an essential part of India's agricultural heritage.
NDSM Lusthof / Studio Ossidiana. Image Courtesy of Studio Ossidiana, Riccardo de Vecchi
As climate instability reshapes design priorities, architecture is increasingly drawn into ecological debates not as a spectator but as a participant. Among the concepts gaining traction is rewilding, a practice rooted in the restoration of self-sustaining ecosystems through the reintroduction of biodiversity, the removal of barriers, and the rebalancing of human presence in the landscape. Though often associated with conservation biology, rewilding also opens up new spatial and architectural imaginaries — ones that challenge conventional notions of permanence, authorship, and use.
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.
Modernism emerged in the early 20th century as a revolutionary movement that rejected historical styles, prioritizing functionality, innovation, and rationality. Grounded in the promise of industrial progress, architects like Walter Gropius, Le Corbusier, and Ludwig Mies van der Rohe championed using new materials and construction methods, striving for a universal architectural language. Their work introduced radical ideas: open floor plans, expansive glazing for natural light, and pilotis that elevated structures, symbolizing a new architectural era. However, alongside its groundbreaking ideas, modernism's relationship with sustainability has sparked ongoing debates.
While modernist architects sought to address social and economic challenges through affordable housing and efficient design, their reliance on energy-intensive materials like concrete and steel created unintended environmental consequences. The large-scale industrialization celebrated by modernists often disregarded local climates and ecological systems, leading to inefficiencies. Yet, the principles of functionality and adaptability embedded in modernist architecture laid the groundwork for what we now recognize as sustainable practices. From Le Corbusier's rooftop gardens to Frank Lloyd Wright's integration of nature, the seeds of environmentally conscious design were undeniably present, albeit limited in their execution.
This article is the winning entry of the Epistle Writing Prize 2024, an annual competition dedicated to recognizing outstanding writing on design, architecture, and the environment.
We might be in the age of the digital cloud - however celestial or ethereal it may appear to be - but it is not only incontrovertibly material but also a powerful ecological force. In present times, data centers are mammoth powerhouses of modern information, communication, and technology industries with giant servers that store and process data. While their proliferation is in a sense, a consequence of our consumption patterns, and as the global demand for the digital grows, so does the data center footprint.
