Architecture has long been drawn upward. In Air and Dreams, Gaston Bachelard writes about an imagination shaped by movement; by the urge to rise, to drift, to escape the pull of the ground. Air, for him, invites imagination to distort, to invent, to go beyond what is given rather than simply reproduce it. In that sense, lightness is not only a physical condition, but a feeling: a desire to transcend the weight of the earth and move toward something less tangible. This impulse can be traced across architecture's enduring attempts to lift itself, from pilotis and long spans to suspended systems and tensile membranes. To build lightly, then, is not only a technical ambition, but also a cultural one – a way of reaching toward the sky.
Today, this pursuit of lightness takes on renewed urgency. As environmental concerns, climate risks, and technological advancements reshape the built environment, building lightly is no longer only an aesthetic or structural ambition; it is increasingly framed as an ecological and ethical imperative.
For most of human history, night arrived as a planetary certainty. Darkness spread across landscapes, and the sky revealed thousands of stars. Today, that sky is disappearing. Artificial light spills upward from cities, scattering through the atmosphere and turning night into a permanent haze. Research mapping global sky brightness shows that more than 80 percent of humanity now lives under light-polluted skies, and the Milky Way has vanished from view for over a third of the world's population. The disappearance of dark skies is usually discussed within astronomy, but the sources of that change are deeply embedded in the built environment. Buildings emit light, reflect it through glass façades, and extend illumination far beyond their walls. In the technosphere, the vast system of infrastructures and materials humans have constructed, architecture now shapes both physical space and the sensory conditions surrounding it.
Does design guide usage, or does usage guide design? Students struggle to maintain focus, employees flinch under harsh lighting, and occupants withdraw from rigid spaces, often in response to environmental conditions that only become visible once a space is occupied. Light falling across a room, the resonance of sound, the texture of surfaces, or the rhythm of circulation can support focus, calm, or inspire creativity, but each can also inadvertently heighten stress and distraction. Architects and designers are exploring and questioning: how are design decisions informed, and whose knowledge is considered essential in shaping space?
As the solstice marks the shortest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere, it also draws attention to something architecture has long negotiated but often overlooked: time. Beyond form or function, buildings and spaces are continuously shaped by cycles of light and darkness, seasonal shifts, and environmental rhythms that affect how they are inhabited.
In recent years, a growing number of architectural projects have begun to work explicitly with these cycles. Rather than designing spaces to function in a single, fixed way, architects are creating environments that change throughout the day, across seasons, or in response to natural phenomena such as the sun's path, lunar phases, wind patterns, or circadian rhythms. These projects operate in dialogue with time, appearing, transforming, and activating differently depending on environmental conditions.
Scandinavia is shaped by environmental conditions that test both human endurance and architectural ingenuity, with long winters defined by limited daylight, low sun angles, deep snowfall, and cold winds that transform everyday movement, gathering, and habitation into deliberate acts. In this context, architecture is never neutral, and hospitality is never incidental. Buildings that welcome visitors across cities, forests, and coastlines must respond directly to darkness and cold, not by denying them, but by creating interior worlds that offer orientation, warmth, and psychological relief. The act of welcoming in Scandinavia is therefore inseparable from the climate, grounded in the understanding that shelter, light, and human presence are fundamental resources in Arctic environments.
Liminal Air Space-Time by Shinji Ohmaki, Noor Riyadh 2025. Image Courtesy of Noor Riyadh
Noor Riyadh 2025 brought large-scale light installations to public sites across the Saudi Arabian capital, temporarily transforming transit hubs, historic districts, and significant landmarks into illuminated urban environments. From November 20 to December 6, 2025, Riyadh became a citywide gallery of light, motion, and shifting perception. The festival's fifth edition featured 60 artworks by 59 artists from 24 countries, including more than 35 new commissions, responding to the theme "In the Blink of an Eye." Through light as both medium and concept, the installations reinterpreted the capital's rapidly evolving architectural landscape and reflected how perception shifts in spaces shaped by heritage and ambitious urban development.
Dedicated to high-end lighting specification, the UK's trade show LiGHT 25 will return to the Business Design Center in Islington, London, on November 19–20, 2025. Following LiGHT 24, which attracted more than 5,500 visitors, this year's edition will feature an expanded program of innovation, education, and networking opportunities. Key highlights for 2025 include the introduction of the Technical Zone, the return of the Associations Lounge, and a new large-scale immersive light art installation.
Seeking to create a fluid dialogue between architecture and its surrounding landscape, the study of topography embodies an awareness and exploration of the use of materials, self-sufficient strategies, low-maintenance solutions, and landscape designs that integrate into the natural environment and minimize the environmental impact of projects. Beyond recording variations in elevation, sun orientation, prevailing winds, or drainage slopes of the terrain, several architects in Argentina demonstrate a strong interest in developing architectural solutions capable of adapting to natural geographies and restoring the bond between nature and the human being.
Jonas Salk Institute for Biological Sciences (1959-65). Image Courtesy of Form Portfolios
In the history of modern architecture, Louis I. Kahn is regarded as the undisputed master of monumentality in the United States. At the height of his career, Kahn managed to create a unique type of architecture, often awe-inspiring, but avoiding overdone grandiosity, expressing its constructive system, yet avoiding structural exhibitionism, steeped in history but developed with a new language and system of forms. His interest in light as a functional element and the specific qualities of materials extended beyond his buildings, in all the objects he created to populate them following their intrinsic spirit. To celebrate this legacy, Form Portfolios has now launched "Monumental Modernism," the first collection of lighting, objects, and furniture modeled after those discovered in Louis I. Kahn's buildings.
For over five decades, Swiss photographer Thomas Mayer has developed a serene, emotional, and documentary language for architecture. His lens captures the random and memorable moments of our built environment - reflections in the rain, long blue hours in Nordic summers, and the quiet darkness of sacred spaces. Recognized by ArchDaily as one of the top architectural photographers, Mayer carries an abundant fascination for light and space.
Tucked discreetly beneath the colonnade of Saint Mark's Square in Venice, Carlo Scarpa's Olivetti Showroom exerts a quiet yet unmistakable presence. Though often overshadowed by the grandeur of nearby landmarks—St. Mark's Basilica, the Clocktower, the Loggetta, and the Procuratie Vecchie—it attracts a particular kind of visitor: those who seek out one of Scarpa's architectural gems hidden in plain sight. Modest in scale but rich in detail, the showroom is meticulously maintained by FAI (Fondo Ambiente Italiano), the National Trust for Italy.
What is enough light? The question is difficult enough but when faced with having to calculate how much LED lighting you need to create a well-lit space, it can become a bit more complicated.
Whether it's architectural LED lighting for commercial applications or residential applications, here's how to determine how many LED Lumens you'll need to properly light your space.
https://www.archdaily.com/897277/how-to-determine-how-many-led-lumens-youll-need-to-properly-light-your-spaceDavid Hakimi
Gallaudet University was established in 1864, becoming the first American educational institution for the deaf and hard of hearing. The university is officially bilingual, with American Sign Language (ASL) and written English used throughout the educational programs. Over the years, the university has grown, adapting both its teaching methods and its spaces to the needs of its students, in turn learning from them how to counter the challenges they face and create a safer and more comfortable environment. These lessons turned into design guidelines, created to educate the architectural community about the strategies they can employ to create more accessible spaces for all.
As a result of the ideas competition organized by the governments of Sweden, Finland, and Norway in 1958, Sverre Fehn's Nordic Pavilion won first prize, becoming one of the most significant works of his career and one of the most outstanding Scandinavian architectural achievements during the mid-20th century. Designed to create a space at the Venice Biennale for the biennial exhibitions of these countries, Fehn's proposal addressed several key architectural challenges—ranging from its integration with the site and incorporation of pre-existing elements to the handling of physical boundaries and uniform natural lighting. His design explored the interaction between architecture and trees, the flexibility in the exhibition space, the filtering of light, the connection between interior and exterior, the concept of movement through space, and the display of artworks.
Architecture is often defined by its physical form, materials, and structural elements, but light and shadow truly shape the experience of space. These elements influence perception, guide movement, and evoke emotional responses, transforming static structures into dynamic environments. Throughout history, architects have harnessed the interplay of light and shadow, using it as a fundamental design tool to create atmosphere and meaning.
The creative fusion of art and activism in urban spaces has propelled the British collective Led by Donkeys into the spotlight, garnering millions of views for their interventions on social media. Their critical visual occupations - whether billboard messages during the day or large-scale projections at night - raise a compelling question: which medium holds the greater persuasive power? The book "Led by Donkeys: Adventures in Art, Activism and Accountability" offers a deep dive into their conceptual approach, charting their rapid evolution over six years. What began as a London-based response to Brexit has expanded into a global critique of political hypocrisy, addressing issues in Europe, the Middle East, and America. For Peter Weibel, former director of the ZKM Center for Art and Media in Karlsruhe, Germany, the innovative fusion of activism and art—or "Artivism"—represents the first new art form of the 21st century. Years of experience in environmental activism provided the group with crucial insights into the mechanics of political communication, the organization of public interventions, and the challenges of achieving meaningful societal change.
As communities grow more multicultural and increasingly diverse, these spaces serve as physical manifestations of religious inclusion, encouraging the acceptance of religious and ethnic minorities within multicultural landscapes. Their proliferation reflects a growing need for inclusive environments that cater to diverse spiritual needs while promoting interfaith understanding. However, designing and implementing these spaces presents complex challenges, often sparking debates about representation, neutrality, and the very nature of sacred space. These discussions underscore the delicate balance architects must strike in creating spaces that are both universally welcoming and spiritually meaningful.
