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.
Henning Larsen, in collaboration with Kampala-based Siimi Design Studio, has revealed the design for a new modular campus for El Cambio Academy, a youth football and education institution located in Masaka, Uganda. The project is being developed using rammed earth construction, with bricks produced on site from locally excavated soil. Currently under construction, the first phase includes a boys' dormitory and is expected to be completed by summer 2025. The 1,280-square-meter campus is designed to accommodate 60 children between the ages of 9 and 16, providing facilities for both academic education and athletic training.
What can a pavilion’s architecture reveal about its country? At major World Expos, national pavilions are designed to answer this question, transforming into spaces laden with symbolism. Though temporary, these structures are rich in meaning, functioning as architectural expressions of political identity. Their forms and materials encapsulate national ambitions. Expo Osaka 2025, the latest chapter in this ongoing narrative, showcases how nations increasingly use built space to construct global images of themselves—sustainable, technological, culturally distinct, and geopolitically relevant.
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.
The 19th edition of the Venice Architecture Biennale officially opened to the public on May 10, becoming a significant international platform for exploring the current state of global architecture and sparking conversations about the challenges the discipline faces today—both shared and specific to each territory. This year’s theme, "Intelligens. Natural. Artificial. Collective," proposed by general curator and Italian architect Carlo Ratti, invites reflection on architecture’s interconnection with other fields—such as art, artificial intelligence, and technology—while also emphasizing the importance of territories, landscapes, and, above all, the people who collectively shape our built environment.
As artificial intelligence (AI) becomes increasingly embedded in society, it's essential to pause and reflect on the foundations that sustain it—and the dimensions to which it extends. At the heart of AI's learning are datasets, whose structure and content shape how these systems interpret and respond to the world. This reliance creates a deep interdependence—one that not only informs AI's capabilities but also defines its potential blind spots. In light of this, we must ask: What forms of understanding might this process exclude, especially those not easily captured in digital form?
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.
The Global Award for Sustainable Architecture, created in 2006 by architect and scholar Jana Revedin, annually recognizes five architects—or offices—from around the world whose practices are grounded in the principles of sustainable development, participatory design, and a community-oriented approach. This recognition aligns with the global urgency surrounding today's pressing issues—the ecological and climate crises, as well as social, cultural, and economic challenges. Acknowledging architecture's critical role in shaping the built environment, the award seeks to highlight the work of creators who address these challenges with innovative and creative solutions.
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.
Educational infrastructure is key to any community. The better the quality of these spaces, the better the learning experience for those who use them. However, these facilities often serve a much broader purpose than just education. In Global South communities, in countries like Peru or Vietnam, where a significant portion of the population lives in rural areas far from urban centers, there are few educational spaces and a lack of places where the entire community—not just the students—can come together.
A change in the way architecture was practiced in Colombia was necessary, and Taller Síntesis emerged to materialize this transformation. The studio combines a deep understanding of the territory and its context with architectural solutions that translate into materiality and built spaces. Their works stand out for their strong local cultural identity, achieving a precise balance between the preexisting, the new, and harmony with the landscape.
Through the post-war 20th century, the Global South saw much influence from foreign architects, often invited by local governments to bring their expertise and visionary thinking. Sought as a symbol of modernity, buildings designed by "starchitects" elevated the image of nations. Decades later, as local industries advance in capabilities, the desire for foreign talent continues to exist. Is this a natural result of globalization or is the continued presence of international architects in the Global South a persistent dependency?
To a first-time visitor, Mumbai presents itself as a kaleidoscope of sensory overload. Architecturally, the peninsula city is host to numerous styles. Mumbai's architectural identity emerges from centuries of cultural exchange and colonial influence. What makes the experience unlike that of other historical cities is the density and the proximity in which juxtapositions occur.
Sustainability in architecture is often framed as a universal challenge, leading to standardized solutions that prioritize efficiency over context. However, architecture is inherently tied to its environment — buildings interact with climate, topography, and cultural history in ways that demand specificity. Instead of relying on standardized sustainability checklists, how can architecture embrace site-specific solutions? This conversation is deeply connected to the concept of Genius Loci, or the spirit of a place, introduced by Christian Norberg-Schulz and embraced by architects advocating for designs that resonate with their surroundings. It suggests that architecture should not be imposed upon a site but rather emerge from it, informed by its materials, climate, and cultural significance. This philosophy challenges the widespread application of generic sustainable technologies, instead proposing that sustainability must be inherently tied to the location in which it operates.
Named one of ArchDaily's Best New Practices in 2024, MEAN* (Middle East Architecture Network) is redefining the architectural landscape of the region by merging computational design, digital fabrication, and material research with local heritage. Founded in 2016, the studio takes a forward-thinking approach, developing site-specific architectural solutions that balance technological innovation with cultural continuity. Their work spans projects of various scales, from experimental furniture like the Mawj Chair to urban-scale interventions such as The Adaptive Majlis, a digitally fabricated reinterpretation of traditional cooling and social spaces. By integrating advanced tools like parametric design, AI, and 3D printing with local materials, MEAN* is crafting a new architectural language that reflects both the aspirations of the future and the depth of the past.
Ecuador, though a relatively small country in terms of land area, boasts a vast and diverse range of ecosystems and natural landscapes, including the Andes mountains, the Pacific coastline, and the Amazon rainforest. This makes the natural environment a key player, shaping its relationship with the built environment and demanding that architecture seamlessly integrate with and respect its context.
Over the years, Ecuadorian architecture has developed its own identity, successfully adapting to these diverse settings. Various construction techniques have been implemented, relying on locally sourced materials to create spaces and shelters in complete harmony with the landscape. Amid the growing trend of seeking a closer connection with nature, architecture in different regions of Ecuador has had to adjust to these conditions.
In recent years, the Gulf region has emerged as a global center for cultural and architectural development, commissioning internationally acclaimed architects to design its most high-profile museums and institutions. These projects, ranging from Louvre Abu Dhabi by Jean Nouvel to Museum of Islamic Art in Doha by I. M. Pei, are often designed by foreign architects, yet they aim to embed themselves within their context through strategies that reference the region's landscape, climate, and architectural traditions. This raises a fundamental question: What defines local architecture in the 21st century?
