The Commonwealth War Graves Commission (CWGC) has unveiled a new memorial in Freetown, Sierra Leone, honoring more than 900 members of the Sierra Leone Carrier Corps who died in the First and Second World Wars. Designed by Lagos-based Oshinówò Studio, the intervention was unveiled on November 7 and commemorates the Carrier Corps individually by name for the first time. The design was first revealed in May 2025.
On Tarkwa Bay, off the coast of Lagos, the transformation of an abandoned building offers a way to consider how architecture might emerge from the materials, relationships and conditions already present in a place.
Architecture is often encountered at the end, when the uncertainties of making have been resolved into a building, a surface, a space. Less visible are the conditions that allow these outcomes to exist, the movement of materials, the availability of labour, the knowledge held by people and places, and the negotiations through which an idea becomes possible. On Tarkwa Bay, an island off the coast of Lagos accessible only by boat, these conditions are difficult to separate from the act of building itself.
The crossing from the Lagos mainland introduces a different relationship to access. People, tools and materials move across water; some resources are readily available, others less so. Materials move across water; reclaimed elements carry histories from elsewhere; salt and sun alter the behaviour of surfaces; and the availability of local artisans influences how work unfolds. These are not necessarily prohibitions; rather, they make visible the dependencies that building elsewhere can allow us to overlook.
Tsuyoshi Tane is a Japanese architect born in 1979 in Tokyo and based in Paris, where he founded ATTA – Atelier Tsuyoshi Tane Architects in 2006. Working across cultural, institutional, and landscape-related projects, Tane has developed an architectural approach that positions memory as a fundamental design driver. In his interview with Louisiana Channel, filmed in his Paris studio, Tane reflects on architecture as a discipline of observation and thought, arguing that meaningful design emerges from carefully reading the traces embedded within a site. For him, architecture is not produced on a blank slate but begins with an inquiry into what already exists, physically, culturally, and emotionally, beneath the surface of a place.
Liberation does not always begin with a monument. It may begin in a garden, a yard, a clearing, a field; in the occupation of land and the possibility of gathering there. Across histories shaped by colonialism and dispossession, space has been more than the setting in which liberation takes place. It has been one of its practices: cultivated, occupied, hidden within, moved through and collectively remade.
Wolff Architects' research Liberation Gardens offers the garden as one way of reading these spatial practices, not simply as planted ground, but as a space through which survival, nourishment and emancipatory imagination can be sustained. The garden in this sense is not defined by landscape design so much as by relationships between people and land, cultivation and knowledge, occupation and autonomy. It can hold cultural production alongside subsistence, and forms of collective life that emerge under conditions of violence and dispossession. Liberation, understood spatially, becomes as much about the possibility of inhabiting differently as it is about arriving at a final condition of freedom.
In broad terms, a structure is a testament to its time. An architectural project's proposal and material scale often exceed the lifespan of a single human being, becoming, in this way, part of a historical narrative. This cross-cutting characteristic is particularly evident in specific project typologies: memorial sites, cemeteries, museums, and even educational and community centers. Lately, this value has extended not only to buildings but also to construction techniques, ancestral forms and geometries, and to nature itself. This historical value and its symbolic connotation are represented in this selection of five buildings designed by ArchDaily readers, still unbuilt, in Kosovo, Canada, China, Egypt, and Bangladesh.
Anyone expecting the following words to offer a discourse on materiality, sustainable building techniques, ways of carving wood, or methods of weaving straw is mistaken. Instead, this article seeks to shift our gaze beyond the aspects that frequently define the debate on Indigenous peoples' culture when it comes to "architecture."
In a worldview where the very term "architecture" is foreign, approaching their structures—if indeed that word can adequately name them—from an exclusively material or technological standpoint remains an attempt to frame their ways of producing space within Western categories. This reduces a complex cosmology to a set of measurable attributes, as if it could be transformed into a checklist applicable to any architecture, thereby erasing the very thing that distinguishes it: the relationships between territory, body, and memory.
This week, we revisited the ideas currently shaping the design of 21st-century cities, with a view toward a longer timeframe than that which characterised modern design. These examples of today's urban design point toward the cities of tomorrow, seeking to reflect collective memory and social identity while addressing the climate challenges we face today. From a new museum in Panama drawing on Latin American architectural tradition to an inflatable installation on Paris's oldest bridge over the Seine, built and not-yet-built projects rescue architecture as a repository of collective memory, while others explore its transformative potential through the lens of contemporary well-being. In this weekly news compilation, we present ongoing projects from Panama, numerous African countries, France, Canada, Italy, Australia, and the United States.
Water has always occupied a unique position in architecture: elemental yet elusive, functional yet symbolic. It is both a material and a medium that shapes cities, structures rituals, and influences how space is perceived. Across cultures, water is understood not only as a source of life but as a carrier of meaning, associated with purification, renewal, and continuity. Its presence in the built environment often extends beyond utility, becoming a device through which architecture engages the senses and constructs atmosphere.
How does an architectural installation express the identity of a region? How can a building material connect with the essence of a nation? Throughout its history, Spain has been shaped by a wide range of cultures and civilizations, including Muslim, Phoenician, Roman, Greek, Carthaginian, and Visigothic influences. From flamenco to ceramic tiles adorning façades and historic monuments, each region of Spain embraces its own customs and traditions, reflected in its architecture, history, art, and design. During Milan Design Week 2026, Tile of Spain presents Spanish Design as a Souvenir at the Fuorisalone—an installation that transforms ceramic tile into a narrative medium through a series of sculptural objects reinterpreting everyday icons of Spanish life.
In the city, aesthetics are not measured by the height of towers or the width of roads, but by their ability to evoke meaning within space. From this perspective, the Mujassam Watan initiative emerges as more than a mere artistic endeavor. It involves a deliberate attempt to redefine the relationship between people and place, between material memory and imagined identity. In the city of Khobar, in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia—where urban modernity intersects with rapid social transformation—this initiative raises the question: How can a sculpture become an open text, one that is both visually read and experientially felt?
Before the digital turn, architecture's memory was largely tangible. It lived in the weight of drawings, the patina of models, and the thickness of books. To preserve architecture meant to preserve its traces, the documents, sketches, and photographs through which buildings could be remembered long after their material form had changed or disappeared. The modern architectural archive, as it developed in the 20th century, was both a refuge and a device of legitimacy. Institutions such as the Canadian Centre for Architecture, Casa da Arquitectura, or the Deutsches Architekturmuseum were built upon the conviction that to preserve architecture was to preserve its documents.
However, these archives didn't merely store knowledge. They determined what counted as architecture, who belonged to its canon, and how history would be told. To archive is to edit the past — to decide what enters, what is omitted, and how it will be interpreted. The archive, as theorised by Michel Foucault and later by Jacques Derrida, is never neutral; it is an instrument of power, a space that selects and excludes. In architecture, these dynamics are especially evident as they record the visible while silencing what falls outside their categories. The act of collecting has always been, implicitly, an act of judgment.
The role of heritage rehabilitation in the contemporary architectural landscape is shaped by a wide range of research, beliefs, memories, and efforts aimed at redefining and strengthening our built environment. When undertaking a transformation, renovation, or preservation project, architects can employ diverse strategies and tools to encourage a meaningful coexistence between what already exists and what is newly introduced. Together with three Madrid-based architecture practices—SOLAR, Pachón-Paredes, and BA-RRO—we set out to engage in conversation and explore their creative processes and ideals, recognizing the complexity and value of historic buildings as repositories of materials, structures, and construction techniques from other eras.
For decades, heritage has been easiest to recognize from the street. We protect facades, skylines, and monuments because they are visible, stable, and legible as cultural assets. Yet most of what we remember about living is how we eat together, withdraw, argue, care, and rest, which happen far from view. It happens inside rooms. As open plans quietly give way to thresholds, corridors, and enclosures, a deeper question emerges: what if cultural memory survives not in what architecture shows, but in how it is lived?
The Louisiana Museum of Modern Art will inaugurate, on January 22, 2026, the second exhibition in its Architecture Connecting series, focusing on the discipline's relationship with science and research across a wide range of fields, including biology, neuroscience, and anthropology. The first exhibition in the series, Living Structures (2024–2025), featured ecoLogicStudio, Atelier LUMA, and Jenny Sabin Studio, highlighting their work at the intersection of algorithms and nature and their development of methods that re-evaluate sustainable architecture and climate considerations. This second exhibition, titled Memoryscapes, explores the memories, stories, and traditions informing the working methodologies of Xu Tiantian's DnA_Design and Architecture (Beijing) and ATTA – Atelier Tsuyoshi Tane Architects (Paris).
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.
In 2025, the architectural field has been marked by a dense calendar of exhibitions, a measured slowdown in construction across multiple regions, and a period of reflection that scrutinizes the impact of intelligence (artificial and natural)—both on professional practice and workplace culture, as well as its use as a pedagogical tool. Over this calendar year, ArchDaily has published more than 30 interviews in a range of formats—Q&As, in-person conversations, video features, and more. These exchanges have engaged themes of sustainability and nature, housing and urban development, AI and intelligence, adaptive reuse and public life, and have closely followed major exhibition platforms including the Venice Biennale, Expo 2025 Osaka, Milan Design Week, Concéntrico, and others.
During the 47th session of the World Heritage Committee, held from July 6 to 16, 2025, at UNESCO Headquarters in Paris, France, 26 new properties were inscribed on the World Heritage List. In addition to examining new nominations, the Committee reviewed the conservation and management of existing sites, addressed the impact of climate change on heritage, and approved the extension of two existing sites to create new transboundary natural parks. According to UNESCO, the session placed the work of local communities at the center of safeguarding policies, reinforced efforts to preserve African heritage, and acknowledged the growing recognition of remembrance sites and the protection of humanity's shared prehistory. These 26 properties, located across 26 countries, now benefit from the highest level of international heritage protection.
Lagos-based architects Oshinowo Studio have revealed a new memorial design commissioned by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission (CWGC) to honor the fallen of the Sierra Leone Carrier Corps during World War I. The design is an intervention into the existing Freetown Memorial, built in 1930 and designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens.
The existing podium, located outside the Secretariat Building in Freetown, commemorates soldiers of the First World War and later incorporated servicemen from the Second World War by removing a small mention of the men of the Carrier Corps, a removal this project seeks to address. Studio founder Tosin Oshinowo is the first woman and the first West African architect to design a memorial for the CWGC.
