In the coastal and jungle regions of Costa Rica, high humidity and intense solar radiation dictate an architectural strategy centered on permeability rather than enclosure. Unlike the airtight envelopes required in cold climates to retain heat, Costa Rican architecture uses the building envelope as a climatic filter to maximize air exchange. The primary mechanism for managing these thermal gradients seems to be the oversized roof overhang. By extending the roof plane significantly beyond the floor plate, architects create a permanent buffer of deep shade that reduces solar gain and lowers the ambient temperature before air enters the structure. This strategy, combined with permeable or non-existent walls, allows for constant airflow. This is a critical technical requirement for humidity control and the prevention of material degradation through mold and rot.
What if industrial leftovers weren't waste, but the start of architectural design? At Rieder's headquarters in Maishofen, Austria, over 1,300 cubic meters of timber, 180 ceiling elements, and hundreds of upcycled glassfiber-reinforced concrete fragments come together in a building shaped as much by reuse as by planning. The new production hall, designed by Kessler² Architecture, treats material leftovers as a design resource. Developed as part of a long-term investment in sustainable manufacturing, the timber-concrete hybrid building introduces a facade technique that inverts conventional architectural workflows: instead of designing first and producing components afterward, the building envelope is generated from the material remnants already available on site establishing a new language for industrial architecture.
The magic of Indian architecture lies in an invisible order amidst visceral chaos. When an uncertain future knocks on the doors of local practitioners, one might begin to look within the four walls they occupy to discover an opportunity for reinterpretation.
Mumbai, Delhi, Bengaluru, and other major metropolises are described as needing massive housing solutions for millions. The instinctive answer is predictable — masterplans, dense towers, and standardized units smeared over haphazard developments. The lexicon misses a deeper truth about how the people already live, work, and build in India. The shorthand used in policy and planning — slum, informal settlement, unauthorized colony — implies a temporary state to be corrected. A designer's eye views these places as layered urban histories, formed through necessity.
The pursuit of stronger, lighter, and more durable materials has guided architecture long before polymers or carbon fibers existed. One of the earliest large-scale examples of composite materials can be found in the Great Wall of China, where stone, clay bricks, and organic fibers such as reeds and willow branches were blended to create a resilient and lasting structure. These early techniques reveal a timeless intuition: distinct materials, when combined thoughtfully, produce properties unattainable by any single element. As the construction sector faces urgent ecological pressures, this intuition is being revisited through the lens of sustainability, with architects and engineers exploring bio-based, recycled, and hybrid composites designed not only for performance but also for circularity and environmental responsibility.
Qalandiya Rendering. Image Courtesy of RIWAQ – Centre for Architectural Conservation
Qalandiya: the Green Historic Maze, developed by RIWAQ – Centre for Architectural Conservation, has been awarded the Grand Prize at the Holcim Foundation Awards 2025, recognizing its sensitive and deeply contextual approach to heritage conservation in Palestine, selected among the 20 winners of this year's edition. Located in Qalandiya, north of Jerusalem, the project reactivates a historic village center long affected by political fragmentation, neglect, and spatial disconnection. Through an incremental rehabilitation strategy, the project restores deteriorated structures using traditional knowledge, local stone masonry, and native materials, transforming abandoned fabric into active public spaces while reinforcing environmental resilience through passive climate strategies and landscape-based infrastructure.
Set to open on January 19, 2026, the Sydney Fish Market marks the first completed project within the broader renewal of Blackwattle Bay on Sydney's inner harbour. Designed by 3XN in collaboration with BVN and Aspect Studios, and delivered by Multiplex, the purpose-built facility replaces the former market with a contemporary structure that combines an operating wholesale fish market with retail, dining, and publicly accessible waterfront spaces. Positioned approximately one mile southwest of Sydney's central business district, the project reframes one of the world's largest fish markets by volume as both working infrastructure and a civic destination.
On the southern edge of Vienna, a cluster of monumental terraces rises above the cityscape, their stepped balconies cascading with greenery and their rooftops crowned with swimming pools. This is the Wohnpark Alterlaa, one of the most ambitious social housing projects in postwar Europe. Designed by Austrian architect Harry Glück and built between 1973 and 1985, the complex was founded on a provocative principle: municipal housing should not only provide affordable shelter but also offer the pleasures and amenities usually reserved for the wealthy.
With more than 3,000 apartments housing nearly 9,000 residents, Alterlaa was conceived as a city within the city. Alongside its residential towers, it incorporates shops, schools, medical services, and cultural facilities, ensuring that daily life can unfold entirely within its boundaries. The project reflects a moment of optimism in Vienna's urban policy, when housing was understood as infrastructure for collective well-being rather than as a commodity.
In the mountainous regions of Vietnam, the borderlands of Thailand, and the rugged Western Ghats of India, building school projects remains a challenge defined by logistics. In areas where infrastructure and industrial supply chains are limited or distant, transporting each kilogram of material can significantly increase costs and logistical complexity. During 2025, several school projects in rural contexts in Asia showed how the architect's role often shifted from a designer of form to a strategist of procurement. The primary challenge was not merely aesthetic but a matter of durability: using locally available materials and protecting them from monsoon rains, high-velocity winds, and sometimes seismic instability.
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.
Detail of the Garifuna Kiosk Network. Image Courtesy of 24 Grados Arquitectura
How can architecture restore relevance to forgotten places? What dialogues can emerge when buildings and landscapes are treated not as blank slates, but as layers of memory, identity, and potential? For the Honduran architecture firm 24 Grados, these questions shape an approach rooted in adaptation, reuse, and contextual design. Their projects range from the restoration of old Spanish plazas and cultural centers to interventions in natural parks and coastal villages in Honduras. Each one is grounded in the belief that design can reweave relationships between people, place, and heritage.
MVRDV and Delft University of Technology Release _Le Grand Puzzle_, an Urban Study of Marseille in the South of France. Image Courtesy of HÇläne Bossy, Manifesta
In architecture, most practices revolve around delivering projects to clients. Offices are shaped by deadlines, budgets, and clear briefs. While this structure produces buildings, it rarely leaves space for architects to question broader issues — about how we live, how cities are changing, or what the future demands of design. But alongside this production-focused system, a quieter movement has emerged: studios, collectives, and foundations that prioritize research, experimentation, and reflection. These are the architecture think tanks — spaces designed not to build immediately, but to think first.
The idea of a think tank is not new. Traditionally found in politics, economics, or science, think tanks bring together experts to study complex problems and propose solutions. In architecture, their rise reveals a tension at the heart of the discipline. If architecture is to remain socially and environmentally relevant, can it continue to rely only on client-driven practice? Or must it carve out space for slower, deeper inquiry?
India's built environment has, in recent years, gained visibility through a growing number of transformative architectural and infrastructure projects. Cities and towns scale faster each year, despite looming concerns around climate and economic volatility. The nation has shown resilience in balancing rapid urbanization with resource constraints; this is no small feat. India's architectural practices rarely rely on novelty alone; they are built on systems that have existed for centuries. Through ArchDaily's Building for Billions, recurring stories have highlighted the social intelligence and adaptive capacity embedded in these practices, revealing an architecture that operates less as isolated form and more as infrastructure.
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First Prize Winner: Edge of presence. Image Courtesy of Buildner
Buildner has announced the results of its Re-Form: New Life for Old Spaces, an international ideas competition examining the adaptive reuse of small-scale existing buildings. The competition invited architects and designers to propose transformations of used, abandoned, or overlooked structures with an approximate footprint of 250 square meters, located anywhere in the world. With no fixed site or program, participants were encouraged to explore alternatives to demolition and new construction through reuse strategies grounded in contemporary social and environmental concerns.
As an open-format competition, Re-Form foregrounded sustainability, feasibility, and community impact over formal or typological constraints. Submissions ranged from precise urban insertions to more speculative rural interventions, reflecting a broad range of approaches to working with existing fabric. Many projects focused on how limited, often marginal spaces could be reactivated to support new forms of collective use while responding to material, climatic, and ecological conditions.
