Amid the orderly grid of the Giardini della Biennale, the Swiss Pavilion appears almost reticent. Its low white volumes, completed in 1952 by Bruno Giacometti, seem to withdraw from the surrounding display of national pride. The building embodies a form of modernism that resists monumentality, where precision and restraint replace spectacle, and architecture becomes less an object than a framework for encounter.
Emerging from a Europe rebuilding itself, the pavilion reflects a time when nations were reimagining how to appear in the world. For Switzerland, neutrality had long been both a political stance and a cultural condition, and Giacometti translated this identity into a sequence of measured rooms arranged around an open courtyard, defined not by what they contain but by how they hold light, movement, and pause. The result is an architecture that does not speak loudly of belonging but invites attention through balance and care.
In the Dutch city of Hilversum, a municipal building completed in 1931 redefined the very idea of what a town hall could be. More than a house for local administration, the Hilversum Town Hall became the architectural expression of a community in transformation. With its tower rising above reflective ponds, its brick masses composed around courtyards, and its carefully detailed interiors, the building asserted that civic architecture could unite function with symbolism, efficiency with ceremony.
The architect behind this vision, Willem Marinus Dudok, was not only responsible for individual buildings but for the broader shaping of Hilversum itself. As a city architect and planner, he designed schools, housing districts, and parks, developing a language that fused Dutch craftsmanship with Modernist clarity. The town hall represented the culmination of this trajectory: a civic centerpiece where urban ambition, material refinement, and human scale converged in a single, coherent form.
Born in the post-war period in the United Kingdom, the Brutalism movement was first met with skepticism but has found a new appreciation in the last decade, capturing the imagination of new designers fascinated with the interplay between striking geometric shapes and the exposed raw materials in which they are rendered. From Britain, the movement spread throughout Europe, Southeast Asia, and Africa, gathering different variations influenced by the cultural and socio-economic status of each area. In this article, we delve into the particularities that define Italy's contribution to the Brutalist movement, exploring the style through the lens of Roberto Conte and Stefano Perego. The two photographers have also published a photographic essay on the subject, taking the form of a book titled "Brutalist Italy: Concrete Architecture from the Alps to the Mediterranean Sea".
The gas station is an architectural typology that has undergone significant transformations since its inception. Initially, these structures were simple roadside refueling points designed for functionality rather than aesthetics. As automobile culture expanded, gas stations evolved to accommodate new technologies, shifting urban landscapes and changing consumer behaviors. Over time, they became more than just utilitarian stops — they developed into service hubs, integrating restaurants, motels, and leisure spaces, responding to contemporary transportation increasing demands.
By the late 20th century, however, the widespread standardization of gas stations led them to be perceived as "non-places", a concept defined by anthropologist Marc Augé to describe transient spaces that lack social or cultural significance. With uniform designs and a focus on efficiency, gas stations became interchangeable, reinforcing their role as purely functional infrastructure rather than meaningful architectural interventions. This standardization also departed from the era when fuel stations served as recognizable landmarks, contributing to a homogenized landscape devoid of local identity.
The intersection of architecture and medicine profoundly shaped modernist design, where transparency, light, and air became essential tools in the pursuit of health. Emerging from the tuberculosis crisis of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the sanatorium evolved beyond a medical facility into a testing ground for architectural innovation. The necessity of fresh air, sunlight, and sterility transformed these spaces into prototypes for modernist principles, influencing spatial organization, material choices, and design philosophies that extended far beyond healthcare.
More than sites of treatment, sanatoriums embodied contemporary medical theories in built form. At a time when tuberculosis — often called the white plague — devastated populations worldwide, medical professionals prescribed environmental exposure as the primary therapy. Architecture adapted accordingly, producing buildings with expansive terraces, large windows, and streamlined interiors designed to optimize ventilation and maximize natural light.
Amidst the traditional streets of Antwerp, where centuries-old townhouses stand as remnants of a historic European city, a stark white volume quietly asserts its presence. Maison Guiette, designed by Le Corbusier in 1926, is an anomaly in its surroundings — a bold statement of modernity in a context that had not yet embraced it.
While today it is overshadowed by the architect's more famous works, this house holds a unique place in history: it was Le Corbusier's first built project outside France, a precursor to his later architectural experiments, and a manifestation of his emerging Modernist principles. Despite its modest scale, it was a manifesto in built form — a house that encapsulated the essence of an architectural revolution.
Envisioned as a "daylight factory", the Van Nelle complex introduced revolutionary architectural and social concepts for its time. By integrating glass, steel, and concrete into an open, rational layout, it demonstrated how design could transform industrial processes while improving the lives of the people within. It was not merely a space for production but a symbol of optimism, representing the potential of architecture to reshape industries and communities.
Modernism, a movement that sought to break away from traditional forms and embrace the future, laid the groundwork for many technological and digital advancements in contemporary architecture. As the Industrial Revolution brought about mass production, new materials, and technological innovation, architects like Le Corbusier, Walter Gropius, and Mies van der Rohe championed the ethos of "form follows function" and a rational approach to design. Their principles resonate in the digital age, where computational design and high-tech materials redefine form and construction.
The 20th century's modernist ideals — efficiency, simplicity, and functionality — created a foundation for architects to experiment with structural clarity and material honesty. High-tech architecture, which emerged in the late 20th century, evolved from these principles, merging modernism's clean lines with advanced engineering and technology. This paved the way for parametricism and algorithm-driven design processes, revolutionizing architecture and enabling complex forms previously thought impossible.
In the early 20th century, tuberculosis presented a significant public health challenge across Europe, prompting the construction of specialized facilities for patient recovery. The Paimio Sanatorium in Finland stands as a groundbreaking example of architecture's potential to promote healing. Designed by Alvar Aalto between 1929 and 1933, the sanatorium combined innovative design principles with a deep understanding of human needs, setting new benchmarks for healthcare architecture.
Alvar Aalto, a leading figure in modernist architecture, envisioned the Paimio Sanatorium as more than a functional response to a medical crisis. He crafted a space where architecture became an instrument of care, integrating natural light, ventilation, and harmonious forms to support physical and emotional well-being. This project marked a turning point in Aalto's career, showcasing his ability to blend modernist ideals with a profound sensitivity to context and human experience.
From January 24 to May 11, 2025, the Danish Architecture Center (DAC) will host an exhibition dedicated to the work of designer Nanna Ditzel. Crowned "The Grand Dame of Danish Design," Ditzel remains a significant figure in the field, known for her iconic creations such as the Hanging Egg Chair, Hallingdal Fabric, and the Trinidad Chair. Born in 1923, she established herself as a pioneer in furniture design, experimenting with unconventional materials, including the then-untested foam rubber, polyester, and fiberglass. She also transformed traditional materials such as wicker, laminated wood, and silver into innovative furniture and jewelry pieces that became icons of modern design, many of which will be showcased in this retrospective exhibition.
Upper Lawn's thoughtful interplay between the new and the existing is particularly compelling. Built on the remains of an 18th-century English farmhouse, the pavilion repurposes thick masonry walls from the original structure, incorporating elements such as the well, trees, and lawn into its design. Using prefabricated materials like timber, glass, and aluminum, the Smithsons constructed a light-filled space that harmonizes with its surroundings, embodying their principle of "as found architecture" — a concept rooted in honoring and adapting to preexisting conditions rather than imposing on them.
Originally designed by Modernist architect and designer Alvar Aalto in 1971, Finlandia Hall represents one of Helsinki's most important modernist works of architecture. In early 2022, an extensive renovation project began, led by Finnish architecture firm Arkkitehdit NRT, aiming to make the venue more accessible to the wider public and create additional services while respecting Alvar Aalto's original design. After three years of renovation, Finlandia Hall officially reopens on Saturday, 4 January 2025.
The Villa Cavrois stands as a powerful testament to early modernist architecture and the vision of architect Robert Mallet-Stevens. Built between 1929 and 1932 in Croix, France, this landmark residence was commissioned by Paul Cavrois, a prominent textile industrialist, to embody modern values and house his growing family. Mallet-Stevens' design merges Modernist ideals with a luxurious, functional aesthetic that breaks sharply from traditional styles, creating a space defined by clean lines, balanced proportions, and innovative materials.
More than just a family home, Villa Cavrois was designed as an architectural manifesto, presenting bold new ideas in residential design that would inspire generations. Its meticulously crafted layout, advanced technological features, and harmonious connection to the surrounding landscape positioned it as a symbol of modern living.
Women have played a pivotal role in the evolution of landscape architecture, overcoming the constraints of a male-dominated profession to introduce groundbreaking ideas and fresh perspectives. From early pioneers to contemporary leaders, their work has reshaped how we interact with public and private spaces, intertwining aesthetics, functionality, and sustainability in innovative ways.
In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, female landscape architects carved out their place in the profession, emphasizing harmony between built structures and natural landscapes. Their projects showcased a deep commitment to community and ecological balance, setting the stage for an inclusive and thoughtful approach to design that continues to inspire the field today.
Standing out among the array of cultural programs, the opera and theater typology is often understood as encompassing the luxurious and elitist spirit of a bourgeois society focused on entertainment. Across the Soviet Union, this represented the opposite of the principles to be promoted. However, despite the opposition of the political class, the program remained widely popular. As the historical structures, symbols of the previous regime could no longer be promoted, the search began for a new image of the Opera House, one aligned with Socialist ideals and the concept of "art belonging to the masses."
This is the case of Soviet Lithuania, which, in the 1940s, began the process of developing a new Opera and Ballet Theater in Vilnius to replace the theatre in Pohulianka. The process resulted in an unusual commission, as young architect Elena Nijolė Bučiūtė won the 1960s competition for architectural design, turning the initial socialist realist proposals into a welcoming and expressive design, blending elements of early and late modernism. This also represents a surprising accomplishment for a young architect who was a woman and not a member of the Communist Party. Open House Vilnius featured the project in its program for several editions.
From 1977 to 1983, the National Theatre in Prague underwent a major transformation with the opening of Nová Scéna, a modern counterpart to the traditional Neo-Renaissance theatre. For many years, Nová Scéna hosted the renowned Laterna Magika, the world’s first multimedia theatre. This groundbreaking performance style combined classical theatre with computer-generated visual effects, creating a unique dramatic experience. The striking glass building, a symbol of the communist era, became an iconic representation of the political power of the time. In recognition of its significance, this building was part of the Open House Prague festival in 2024—an annual event that invites the public to explore and appreciate the value of architecture.
Regarding urban development, the choice between demolition and adaptive reuse holds far-reaching implications. From debates around the cultural and historical significance of structure to the environmental impact of the process of razing and rebuilding, compared to the cost of preserving and adapting, the matter of demolitions has ignited the architectural community to come together and ask for more responsible assessment strategies in hopes of rediscovering the value of existing structures. This article gathers some of the stories of buildings facing the threat of demolition and the processes that led to their rescue.
