As cities around the world brace for extreme temperatures and waves of unrelenting heat, urban greening is one of the best solutions for leaders to combat this reality. The benefits of planting trees for physical health, mental well-being, and thermal relief are well documented, and a mature canopy can transform a space by several degrees on a hot day. Trees cool the air through evapotranspiration, filter pollutants and absorb stormwater, and enhance biodiversity in urban spaces.
As co-living becomes increasingly associated with students, young professionals, and other mobile residents, it raises a broader architectural question: if home is no longer tied to long-term residence, what should architecture expect the private dwelling to provide?
People move for school, for a temporary job, or for a career that keeps taking them somewhere new. Many now expect to spend a defined period in a place before leaving it. Housing built for them has to do more than provide shelter. It has to support the routines through which someone adapts to an unfamiliar place, in the short time they know they have there. A year in a city asks something different of an apartment than a lifetime does, even if the square meters look the same on paper.
p>Understanding play as a social catalyst and an influential factor in defining public space, urban life is shaped by diverse individuals of different ages, cultures, ideologies, interests, classes, and social groups. Thinking about how play inhabits cities means thinking about all generations, and about the need to build public spaces with urban equipment designed to last and be maintained over time.
The performance of play structures invites us to review the different stages of their life cycle alongside their impact on shaping the urban environment. Analyzing the life cycle of urban play equipment involves understanding everything from materials, durability, and maintenance to the role of certifications and technologies applied in their production process, within environments that are increasingly conscious of their environmental impact.
In many Latin American cities, peripheral neighborhoods have historically had less access to the resources that make urban life more than just livable. Housing, transportation, and public services are the usual markers of that gap. But there is another gap that is harder to quantify: the absence of places where people can gather, learn, rest, and participate in collective life. When those spaces do not exist, the city not only fails to provide a service. It fails to acknowledge a presence.
In recent decades, a growing number of projects have tried to address that absence directly. Rather than focusing only on physical infrastructure, they invest in spaces designed to support education, culture, recreation, and community, often merging several of those functions within a single building in neighborhoods where those spaces are otherwise limited.
In the current context of rapid urban environmental changes, such as heatwaves and droughts, new priorities are emerging in the design of public spaces. "Rewilding" refers to the practice of restoring self-sustaining ecosystems through the reintroduction of biodiversity, implementing strategies to reverse the effects of habitat loss, species decline, and ecosystem degradation. These strategies can be identified in this selection of conceptual projects submitted by ArchDaily readers, where architecture is used as a tool to restore ecological balance among species, inverting its modern role as an agent of ecological disruption.
Faced with the reality that climate change is making cities increasingly unlivable, citizens are confronted with the choice of either leaving or transforming their environments. The unbuilt projects compiled in this article offer transformative alternatives for more livable cities, combining construction, architectural, and landscape design strategies across urban parks and suburban interstitial spaces. As ecological laboratories, they incorporate a multispecies perspective into the design process, adopting a concept of time better suited to the development of ecosystems.
ReGreeneration is a Horizon Europe-awarded project working across nine cities to advance urban regeneration through nature-based solutions, participatory governance, and integrated approaches to climate resilience and social equity. The nine cities in the project portfolio span a range of urban typologies, scales, and planning traditions, forming a living laboratory for rethinking sustainable urban transformation in practice. Each city brings distinct challenges and ambitions to the collaboration, and this series of articles explores what each city is doing and what the broader design community can learn from it.
Every three years, the International Union of Architects' (UIA) World Congress lands in a different city, under a different theme set years in advance. A quick mapping of these host cities reveals a deliberate pattern: throughout the decades, the UIA has purposefully chosen a wide range of venues across all continents, rendering each edition a snapshot of what mattered in that specific place, at that exact moment. The result of this geographic rotation has been a diverse kaleidoscope of conversations, analyzing the profession from countless angles and adapting it to changing times. But 2026 is different; this time the UIA is repeating a host city for the first time: Barcelona, under the theme "Becoming. Architectures for a planet in transition".
Architecture continues to draw cities as though humans occupy them alone. Plans trace circulation routes, zoning maps assign functions, and buildings are evaluated according to human comfort, safety, and efficiency. Walking through cities across India and Southwest Asia reveals something much more complex. Dogs sleep beneath market stalls, monkeys move across rooftops, birds nest in temple towers and mosque façades, and insects pollinate urban landscapes hidden in plain sight. These species are woven into daily urban life as consistently as human occupants. Streets, courtyards, roofs, drainage systems, markets, and vacant lots are already occupied by multiple species simultaneously. Architectural thinking has been slower to account for this reality.
Who has the right to the city? Henri Lefebvre's writings question the structures that control urban space and, instead, put the citizens at the center of decision-making. His ideas have influenced the way architecture and urban design are practiced, bringing about community participation and co-design. These have been some of the most prominent themes at Utopian Hours 2026, the festival of city-making, the first part of which was held in the Dutch city of Rotterdam to mark its tenth anniversary edition.
Lorcan O'Herlihy, the Irish-born architect, educator, and founder of Los Angeles-based Lorcan O'Herlihy Architects (LOHA), has died at the age of 66. His death was confirmed by the firm on June 14, 2026. Over a career spanning more than three decades, O'Herlihy became known for advancing an architectural practice centered on housing, urbanism, and social engagement, helping shape conversations around density, affordability, and the civic role of design in contemporary cities.
What architecture leaves in the ground outlasts what it puts in the air. A demolished building disappears from the skyline in a matter of days, but its foundations remain embedded in the soil for generations. The contamination caused by an industrial complex does not clear when the complex is torn down. The legal boundaries inscribed across colonial territory do not dissolve when the colonial administration ends. The ground holds what architecture quickly forgets.
This is what makes soil so uncomfortable as a subject. The discipline tends to orient itself upward, toward the form, the façade, the spatial experience of inhabitation. The ground is where architecture begins and, in a certain sense, where it ends: the point at which building becomes geology, legal title becomes territorial claim, and construction becomes extraction. Treating soil as a medium rather than a datum means acknowledging that the acts of building carry consequences that run deeper than the visible object above grade.
As Europe experiences one of its earliest and most intense heatwaves in recent years, World Environment Day 2026 arrives amid renewed discussions about climate adaptation, urban resilience, and the capacity of cities to respond to increasingly extreme temperatures. Across Portugal, France, Italy, Spain, Germany, Switzerland, Ireland, and the United Kingdom, temperatures have surged well above seasonal averages, prompting heat alerts, school closures, emergency planning measures, and growing concerns about the performance of buildings and public infrastructure under prolonged heat stress. The convergence of these highlights a reality that is becoming increasingly worldwide: climate change is no longer solely an environmental concern but an issue that is fundamentally reshaping the spaces where people live, work, and gather.
Modern cities are running on performance indicators. They move millions of people each day, concentrate capital, separate land uses, and sustain complex systems of logistics and consumption. In that sense, the city functions as a system to be continually adjusted and optimized.
Today's dominant metrics are familiar and widely witnessed: vehicles per hour, average commute times, floor area ratios, parking turnover, housing starts, and tax revenue per parcel of land. These figures describe a city that is legible through efficiency. They are inherited from an industrial logic, where urban space is treated more like a production mechanism than a lived-in environment. In this framing, cities begin to mimic the needs and metrics of a machine.
Environmental justice confronts a simple but uncomfortable truth: the benefits and burdens of the environment are not shared equally. Marginalized communities bear a disproportionate share of polluted air, unsafe water, toxic land uses, extreme heat, and the accelerating risks of climate change in cities around the world. These are the consequential products of decades of policy decisions, investment patterns, exclusionary planning practices, and planning choices that have consistently favored certain communities over others.
In cities and landscapes alike, these injustices are written into the physical fabric of places, even revealing extreme differences in environmental conditions between neighborhoods and districts. Dense neighborhoods with little tree canopy, for example, absorb and hold heat, exposing residents to higher rates of heat-related illness. Highways, industrial corridors, ports, and waste facilities cluster near low-income neighborhoods and communities of color, shaping conditions of health, air and soil quality, and long-term safety.
How can the most structured elements in architecture give rise to unplanned forms of everyday life? "Spontaneous order" describes how structured systems can generate unplanned but coherent patterns of behavior. In urban discourse, it is often used to describe cities: frameworks of streets, plots, and buildings that are designed, while everyday life is not. Movement, encounters, routines, and informal uses emerge from simple spatial rules rather than explicit programming. In cities, this is visible in how sidewalks, stations, and thresholds operate. The structure is fixed, but the social order is fluid, setting conditions for behavior rather than defining it.
A similar logic can be observed in architectural micro-infrastructures such as locker systems. Like cities, lockers rely on structured frameworks that do not prescribe how life unfolds within them. A locker system is highly controlled in architectural terms: repetitive modules, strict grids, standardized dimensions, controlled access. Yet once in use, it produces spontaneous behaviors. People pause in corridors, return at irregular times, linger near locker zones, or briefly interact with others doing the same. What appears to be a strictly infrastructural storage system begins to generate informal social and spatial behavior.
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.
Landscape and urban design studio SLA has unveiled the design for the public realm and streetscapes of Toronto's new 39.8-hectare waterfront community. The urban landscape project "Ookwemin Minising" is located in the Port Lands, an industrial and recreational district southeast of downtown Toronto, currently undergoing urban revitalization to transform the area from a former industrial zone into a naturalized river valley, mixed-use neighbourhoods, and public parkland. The overall transformation is being led by Waterfront Toronto, a publicly funded, not-for-profit corporation established in 2001 to oversee the regeneration of the area, as part of a broader government initiative to renaturalize urban areas and increase housing density. The redevelopment of Ookwemin Minising is expected to be completed in phases between 2031 and 2040.
This week's stories reveal a growing focus on reconnecting design with physical reality, whether through construction, landscape, public space, or collective participation. From the curatorial direction of the upcoming Venice Architecture Biennale 2027 to internationally recognized projects addressing flood resilience, affordable housing, and ecological restoration, many of the week's discussions challenged architecture's increasing detachment from material, environmental, and social conditions. At the same time, major cultural interventions, temporary structures, and public forums explored how institutions and civic spaces can become more accessible, adaptable, and engaged with everyday urban life.
