Materials & ProductsExclusive Articles, from ArchDaily

Created by California surfers who wanted to bring the lines of surfing onto asphalt, skateboarding soon outgrew its role as a simple alternative for flat days. It established itself as a practice that reads the city through a different logic, reinterpreting steps, handrails, walls, and interstitial spaces as possible lines, challenges, and opportunities. Over time, it evolved into a global urban culture, a way of inhabiting and transforming public space through movement. What was once marginal has become a catalyst for urban activation, community building, and new uses for overlooked spaces. At its core, skateboarding reveals how many cities coexist within the same city, depending on who moves through them and how each person is able to reinterpret their surroundings.

The prestigious BAU Munich, the world's leading trade fair for architecture, materials, and systems, served as the stage for Orama Minimal Frames' latest innovations in architectural frame technology. The exhibition offered a platform for industry connections and showcased advancements that challenge conventional boundaries in frame design.

Are living spaces getting smaller? As cities densify and the global population continues its steady migration toward urban centers—projected to reach around 70% by 2050—domestic space is becoming increasingly compressed. Rising land prices, high construction costs, and a surge in single-person households push developers toward smaller units and tighter floor plans. At the same time, cultural shifts toward resource efficiency and minimal living support this move. Shrinking living spaces require fewer materials, consume less energy, and encourage people to live closer to their means.

In 1952, American composer John Cage presented his groundbreaking piece "4'33''" for the first time. In it, the orchestra produces no intentional sound for four minutes and thirty-three seconds. What can be heard instead are breaths, movements, and subtle noises that would normally go unnoticed, but here become part of the composition itself. With this work, Cage revealed that absolute silence does not exist. There is always sound, even when unplanned.

The Suzhou Museum of Contemporary Art (Suzhou MoCA), designed by BIG – Bjarke Ingels Group, is nearing completion along the Jinji Lake waterfront in Suzhou, China. Conceived as a cluster of twelve pavilions beneath a continuous, ribbon-like roof, the 60,000-square-meter complex reinterprets the traditional garden architecture that has long defined Suzhou's urban and cultural identity. Commissioned by the Suzhou Harmony Development Group and developed in collaboration with ARTS Group and Front Inc., the project is expected to open officially in 2026. The museum will debut with "Materialism," an exhibition curated by BIG that traces a material journey from stone to recyclate.

Water is the foundation of life. It shapes landscapes, regulates climates, and sustains every living organism. Yet on the only known inhabited planet, this essential resource faces a growing crisis: although 70% of Earth's surface is covered by water, less than 1% is actually available for human use. Most of it is consumed by agriculture and industry, while in households, activities like bathing and flushing use vast amounts of drinking water for non-essential purposes. The bathroom, therefore, has become a key space for innovation, where technology and design can help redefine how we use and reuse this vital element.

The practice of combining materials to achieve better performance has accompanied humanity since the earliest constructions. One of the first known examples emerged over five thousand years ago, when civilizations in Mesopotamia and Egypt mixed mud and straw to mold sun-dried adobe bricks. Light and fibrous, straw prevented cracking and increased strength, while mud acted as a binder and protection. This simple yet ingenious invention can be considered the first composite in history, illustrating the ancestral intuition that distinct materials, when combined, can become something stronger and better.

Concrete, steel, wood, glass. Every year, millions of tons of construction materials are discarded, piled up in landfills, and silenced beneath the weight of the next building. Entire structures disappear to make way for others, restarting a voracious cycle of resource extraction, material production, and replacement. Along with the debris that accumulates, something deeper is also lost: time, human labor, stories, and the collective memory embedded in matter. At a time when climate goals demand reducing emissions and extending the lifespan of what already exists, demolition is increasingly recognized as a form of urban amnesia, one that erases not only cultural continuity but also the embodied energy of buildings. And even though it is often said that the most sustainable building is the one that already exists, that principle rarely survives when other interests come into play.

For architects and specifiers, selecting the right cladding system is both a technical and creative act, connecting material science with architectural intent. More than simple visual envelopes, façades today are high-performance systems that balance protection, insulation, and expression. As the first barrier between exterior and interior, the right cladding system can define how a building behaves and ages over time, affecting its thermal comfort, acoustic performance, fire safety, and overall durability.

In the Water Lilies rooms at the Musée de l'Orangerie in Paris, Claude Monet conceived a 360-degree gallery where visitors are enveloped by continuous landscapes, dissolving the boundaries between painting and environment. There, he sought not merely to represent nature through his distinctive style, but to construct an atmosphere, a perceptual state that the visitor literally inhabits. Architecture, traditionally associated with materiality and permanence, thus gains a new dimension of time, movement, and sensory experience.