Founded by Senegalese architect Nzinga Mboup and French architect Nicolas Rondet, Worofila is a studio dedicated to bioclimatic and ecological architecture. Based in Dakar, Senegal, the firm explores the potential of vernacular materials like earth bricks and typha, applying modern techniques to create effective construction solutions. Their work addresses key issues of the environment, sustainability, and urbanization, merging traditional materials with innovative practices.
In this interview, Nzinga and Nicolas share their vision for a distinctly African modernity that integrates contemporary methods with traditional knowledge and resources. They advocate for a development approach that not only meets immediate needs but also empowers communities and fosters meaningful, long-term progress. Their insights provide a compelling perspective on how architecture can drive a more sustainable and contextually relevant future for African cities.
Mishing traditional bamboo house, Majuli . Photo by Rumi Borah. License Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International
Across India's varied geographies, from coastal backwaters to desert fortress cities, architecture evolved with a deep, instinctive connection to climate. These were not isolated craft traditions but complete ecological systems in which material cycles, thermal comfort, and community knowledge were interdependent. As COP30 turns global attention toward the links between heritage and climate resilience, India's vernacular practices appear less as historical artifacts and more as climate technologies refined over centuries.
In the low-lying deltas of Bangladesh, water defines both life and loss. Every year, millions are forced to rebuild after floods wash away their homes, crops, and livelihoods. In these precarious territories, the act of building has become an act of resilience. It is here that Khudi Bari emerges as a modest yet radical proposal. Designed by Marina Tabassum Architects, the project provides a lightweight, modular, and affordable dwelling for communities displaced by climate change. Recognized as one of the winners of the 2025 Aga Khan Award for Architecture, it represents a form of architecture that empowers rather than imposes.
Today, on the first Monday of October, we celebrate World Architecture Day. This year, the International Union of Architects (UIA) has set the theme "Design for Strength," a powerful call to action that resonates deeply with the UN's focus on urban crisis response. In a world facing unprecedented environmental and social disruptions, this theme challenges us to move beyond temporary fixes. It asks: How can our buildings and cities not only withstand shocks but also foster equity, continuity, and resilience?
While the concept of strength in architecture can easily evoke images of reinforced concrete and steel, a more profound interpretation is emerging, one that defines strength not as mere rigidity, but as a holistic capacity to endure and adapt. This includes many facets, from ecological resilience and stewardship to long-lasting concepts of social resilience or the long-lasting conservation of existing urban structures, all contributing to a built environment more able to respond to the multitude of crises faced by cities worldwide.
The Ukrainian pavilion at the 19th International Architecture Exhibition – La Biennale di Venezia explores the intersection of traditional building methods and improvised construction during wartime crises. Under the title "DAKH (ДАХ): Vernacular Hardcore", the exhibition refers to the concept of the roof ("dakh" in Ukrainian) as a primary shelter in architecture, examining the roofs of an "architecture without architects" both in the country's constructive tradition and in the contemporary reality of aerial vigilance over its national territory. Curated by Bögdana Kosmina, Michał Murawski, and Kateryna Rusetska, the Ukrainian display consists of a six-element exhibition at the Arsenale's Sale d'Armi and an accompanying nomadic program titled Planetary Hardcore.
The Kingdom of Morocco's exhibition at the 19th International Architecture Exhibition – La Biennale di Venezia highlights Moroccan earth architecture and traditional construction techniques. The exhibition, titled Materiae Palimpsest, was curated by architects Khalil Morad El Ghilali and El Mehdi Belyasmine. In an exploration that blends ancient techniques with digital technologies, the exhibit features textile works by architect and artist Soumyia Jalal, along with holograms of artisans and tactile installations. The narrative presents earth as a renewable resource and sustainable material, and earth construction as a key to both preserving architectural heritage and addressing contemporary ecological and social challenges. Materiae Palimpsest offers an invitation to rethink architecture's current relationship with building materials, opening the way to locally rooted construction methods.
At the Bruder Klaus Field Chapel, designed by Peter Zumthor, the construction process involved the direct participation of residents from the small Swiss village of Mechernich. Using an internal formwork made of vertically placed wooden logs, concrete was prepared in small batches and poured manually, day after day, forming layers marked by subtle variations in the mix and application. At the end of the process, the wooden structure was reduced to ashes, leaving the chapel's interior impregnated with traces of fire and revealing a dark, tactile surface. The result was a quiet and deeply meaningful space, where collective action, time, and material transformation became part of the architecture. Centered on locally available resources and manual techniques, this construction method highlights how the choice of materials and building system can shape the experience of a space, reveal the time invested, and embed the culture of a place into the very matter of architecture. In doing so, it offers an example of how construction itself can become a regenerative act, restoring meaning, connecting communities, and honoring material cycles.
One notable example is Tai Hang, among the earlier settlements established by the Hakka people in Hong Kong. Originally located along a water channel that flowed from the nearby mountains to the sea, the area was once a vital washing site for villagers—hence its name, which literally means "Big Drainage." Before extensive land reclamation, Tai Hang sat quite close to the shoreline. Today, it lies nearly 700 meters inland.
Located on a farm in southern India, the Rice Museum occupies the upper floor of Syed Ghani's home, nestled in the verdant agricultural landscape of Mandya — a region shaped by brick structures, expansive greenery, and ancestral farming knowledge. Syed Ghani, a farmer, historian, and museologist, has dedicated himself to preserving indigenous rice varieties through seed conservation, proliferation, and educational initiatives. With the support of local farmers, he has helped recover more than 1,000 native paddy (rice) varieties, safeguarding an essential part of India's agricultural heritage.
The main role of architecture is to create structures that protect us from the environment and create spaces that are safe and comfortable for all types of needs and activities. By providing shelter, architecture also shapes the way people interact with their surroundings. Building technologies of the past rarely managed, however, to create a complete separation between us and the outside world.
While impermeability was a desired outcome, the porous building materials available always allowed some water, wind, or outside particles to leak into the interior spaces. In contrast, modern technologies now allow for almost completely impermeable building envelopes, allowing for complete separation between indoors and outdoors, thus relying on engineered systems to regulate temperature, airflow, or humidity. This article explores the differences between these two contrasting approaches, exploring how building facades are equipped to regulate indoor comfort and its environmental impact.
Artificial intelligence (AI) is no longer a futuristic idea in architecture — it is a concrete reality that is reshaping how we design. In seconds, computational systems can process and evaluate a wide range of variables — formal, programmatic, contextual, and regulatory — guiding architects toward highly optimized solutions. But as we embrace this algorithmic revolution, a critical question arises: can architectural intelligence be reduced to data-driven logic? In response, alternative approaches are gaining momentum — ones that value ways of building grounded in sensory experience, adaptation to place, and the intergenerational transmission of knowledge. In the exchange between artificial and ancestral forms of intelligence, a deeper understanding begins to take shape. Intelligence does not reside in the tools themselves, but in the intention and sensitivity with which we use them to navigate complex realities.
As architecture navigates a rapidly changing world shaped by ecological urgency, social transformation, and technological acceleration, the notion of intelligence is shifting. No longer confined to individual cognition or artificial computation, intelligence can emerge from cultural memory, collective practices, and adaptive systems. In this broader sense, architecture becomes a field of convergence, where natural, artificial, and social intelligences intersect to offer new ways of designing and building.
Vernacular traditions embed generations of environmental knowledge, often transmitted through materials, construction techniques, and spatial logics finely tuned to local conditions; participatory platforms expand decision-making to wider communities to take part in shaping their environments, redistributing agency in the design process; and computational processes simulate and respond to complex data in real time bringing the capacity to analyse, simulate, and respond to complex variables — whether environmental, social, or behavioural — offering new forms of adaptability.
The architecture of cultural and community centers in rural areas around the world has become a rich field for experimentation, where tradition and innovation intersect. Rather than replicating standardized urban models, these projects embrace contemporary approaches tailored to local realities, blending bold design, sustainable technologies, and collaborative processes. Often developed in close partnership with local communities, they draw on regional materials and cultural symbols to create spaces that do more than host activities: they express a collective identity and a profound sense of belonging. By reimagining vernacular knowledge through a modern lens, these buildings support and inspire new ways of living in the countryside.
As educational institutions around the world adapt to shifting societal needs, the architecture of learning is also evolving. This curated selection brings together projects submitted by the global ArchDaily community, highlighting how architects are rethinking the future of schools and universities through design. These proposals reflect pressing global concerns: the importance of community-centerededucation, the revitalization of historical buildings and neighborhoods, the integration of natural systems, and the search for spatial expressions that accommodate both formal instruction and informal exchange. Whether situated in dense urban centers, rural villages, or coastal landscapes, these projects respond to specific cultural and environmental contexts while engaging with broader architectural questions about sustainability, access, and identity.
The 2025 Pritzker Prize has been awarded this year to Chinese Architect Liu Jiakun. Born in Chengdu in 1956, he grew up in the densifying city, before attending and graduating from the Chongqing Architecture and Engineering College (Chongqing University) in 1982 with a Bachelor of Engineering degree in Architecture, and becoming one of the first college graduates to be tasked with rebuilding the country during the Chinese transition period. However, it wasn't until many years later that the architect understood that "the built environment could be used as a medium for personal expression". It was then that his endeavors and career took off, with Liu Jiakun starting his practice in 1999, and participating in more collaborative works across China and Europe. Based on his experiences, his works are anchored in his understanding of reality and a respect towards China's multi-traditional history and internal diversity; all while achieving a seamless balance between architecture and nature, tradition and modernity.
These concepts do not obstruct his consciousness of human needs and the importance of community spaces. Through his projects, Liu Jiakun proves that spaces can affect human behavior and become positively evocative. A public space such as those he's created can be conducive to a benevolent atmosphere that provides rest and collaboration. "such as my pursuit of narrative and poetry in design." The comprehensiveness of Liu Jiakun's works makes it easy not to be constrained by stylistic or aesthetic limitations or requirements. He just follows what the site, natural landscape, pre-existing urban frame, and citizen needs might require. The physical result is a mix of all of these with the predominant vernacular traditions.
Liu Jiakun, the 2025 Pritzker Prize winner, has spent decades redefining Chinese architecture by combining utopia with function and social engagement with personal memory. His buildings are reflections of the everyday lives of ordinary people, crafted with an understanding of place, culture, and materiality. Rejecting the pursuit of a fixed architectural style, Jiakun believes in a strategy rather than a signature aesthetic, tailoring each project to its specific context and needs. His work integrates history with contemporary urban needs, collectivism with individual experience, and density with openness, offering timely solutions to the challenges of rapid urbanization.
Jiakun's approach is deeply rooted in Chinese philosophy, common sense, and local craftsmanship, ensuring that architecture grows naturally from its surroundings rather than being imposed upon them. His buildings reflect an authenticity that speaks to both past and present, avoiding grand gestures in favor of spaces that foster interaction, spirituality, and human connection.
