In many high-density cities across Asia, the staircase is often treated as a necessary evil. Whether in apartment buildings, private homes, or retail interiors, it is frequently hidden, tucked away, or pushed to the margins—an element to be minimized so more area can be given to "usable" space. Yet as density intensifies and square footage becomes increasingly scarce, architects and designers are forced to rethink this vertical puzzle.
The question shifts from how to conceal the staircase to how to make it work harder: can it become a productive addition to the interior—an architectural device that does more than connect levels, performing dual (or multiple) duties rather than simply consuming floor area?
Hospitality-driven programs, specifically coffee shops and social hubs, are partly defined by their role as "third places": social anchors that bridge the gap between private and public life. Unlike residential or commercial office programs that require rigid partitioning for privacy and utility, they rely on expansive, open-plan environments. This allows for an architectural strategy of minimal intervention, allowing the structural envelope to remain intact. By avoiding the subdivision of space, architects maintain uninterrupted sightlines to original masonry, timber frames, or decorative ceilings, ensuring the building's historical narrative remains the protagonist. Simultaneously, the commercial activity provides the necessary maintenance and public engagement to ensure the site's continued existence.
To fully know a city's architectural heritage, one must look beyond its designated sites and iconic buildings. For many, understanding a city's urban fabric and what makes it tick also means discovering the smaller-scale, locally appreciated, conserved buildings and popular gathering spaces. This is especially true when considering bustling Vietnamese cities, with their peculiar architectural characteristics, which can only be appreciated when learning about their many inspirations and historic layers, combining traditional Vietnamese motifs, modernism, local materiality, and climatic design solutions, but mostly by learning about the site constraints that are addressed through the implementation of the narrow tube houses and low-rise buildings.
These key styles and architectural movements are often maintained and even highlighted, as architects give a second life to many rundown or abandoned buildings, transforming them into popular coffee joints. They are reviving smaller heritage sites by pushing for their restoration and regular use by the community, encouraging visitors to acknowledge the historic relevance of the space, as they covet it.
In Vietnam, the tube house has almost become a vernacular form in densely populated cities like Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City. This typology originated from ancient façade taxes and as a strategic response to urban land scarcity and optimization of street frontage for commerce. Their traditional structure typically relies on the front façade for daylight and ventilation. People living there often face the challenge of designing in a space defined by the deep plots, limited street frontage, and close neighboring buildings, restricting natural light and airflow. To counter this fundamental lack of perimeter exposure, Vietnamese architects usually employ several strategies oriented towards internal environmental manipulation. This curated collection explores tube houses under 100 m2, where their small size increased the need for absolute spatial economy and the verticalization of function, which directly influenced design decisions across all projects.
While adaptive reuse has been increasingly acknowledged as a vital architectural strategy worldwide, its discourse and implementation in Asia are still expanding—driven by growing ecological awareness and a shifting understanding of architectural knowledge. Rather than accelerating a developmentalist model centered on demolition and new construction, architects today are confronted with a different approach to the built environment: treating the existing structure as a resource—an archive of materials, spatial organizations, and informal histories.
Adaptive reuse is often associated with the preservation of historic buildings and culturally significant heritage. Yet the vast field of seemingly 'less-valued' structures—abandoned houses, standard yet old dwellings, non-conforming office buildings, and overlooked urban voids—has become ground for experimentation. These sites challenge architects and designers to reconsider prevailing standards of efficiency and market-driven development, and to imagine spatial and ecological practices that avoid the continual loss of embodied material and cultural knowledge inherent in constant rebuilding.
Red clay roof tiles appear in many architectural traditions around the world, despite the cultures being geographically or historically distant. However, this isn't necessarily surprising. Clay is an abundant and accessible building material worldwide, with some studies and other sources suggesting it comprises approximately 10-13% of the Earth's soils. Red tiles, in particular, are often a product of the local soil's mineral content and the firing process. Their widespread use across unrelated regions is less about shared cultural influence and more about material logic: clay is cheap, durable, and easy to work with using simple tools and techniques. In Vietnam, for example, there is a unique and visible tradition of clay tile use that dates back centuries. Regions like Vinh Long, nicknamed the "kingdom of red ceramics", have an abundance of this material, supporting a long history of tile-making. In some parts of Vietnam, these tiles are known as Yin-Yang tiles, due to the concave and convex shape in which they are formed during production.
There are many advantages to incorporating interior courtyards in residential projects, both in urban contexts and in more natural surroundings. In both cases, they are a key element in improving the quality of the home's interior space in various ways. Whether in the form of a central cloister, side courtyards, or through perforated slabs and the addition of skylights, these spaces play a vital role in creating a harmonious living environment, offering benefits ranging from the regulation of interior temperature to enhancing social interactions and fostering a close connection with nature.