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.
Few commissions allow architects to focus on non-human users, and fewer still involve horses. While domestic pets like cats and dogs are common muses, the particular needs of horses present a unique challenge when designing stables. Since the horses, who are the stable's primary inhabitants, cannot articulate their needs, design relies on the rigorous requirements dictated by human caretakers, requiring a balance between streamlined human operations and maximized horse comfort and safety. Architects often seem to address this through three core principles: Equine Comfort & Well-being, Contextual Materiality, and Operational Efficiency. Thus, the resulting layouts are characterized by rigorous zoning that clearly separates the programs into residential (stalls), service (tack, storage, wash, feed), and training spaces (arenas, walkers). The designs also address visual well-being: Horses are social animals, so they strategically position stables to promote sightlines between animals and to the exterior, often employing louvered or open-frame systems. Furthermore, lighting is kept diffuse using materials such as translucent panels to prevent sharp, stress-inducing shadows in arenas. Similarly, circulation paths are designed for the safe, efficient movement of both people and animals.
Interior design has been characterized by infinite alternatives in coatings, finishes, and furniture to achieve unique and unrepeatable spaces. Designers are constantly coming up with innovative solutions and materials specifically created for a distinctive spatial perception. However, there is also a trend that seeks the warmth of the interior spaces by exposing the raw building materials as they are. The richness of materials such as wood and concrete gives that feeling of durability and low maintenance that, combined with an attention-to-detail design, makes spaces look warm yet stay true in essence. See below for 35 examples of interior spaces where concrete and wood appear in their almost purest state.
What is architecture? For some, its traditional role is to bring together imagination, technical knowledge, and problem-solving, allowing architects to design and construct while balancing ideas with the means to realize them. From the stone and wood of early buildings to the steel and concrete of the 20th century, each era demanded not only an understanding of form but also of the properties and potential of the materials in use. This grasp of materials has always been a core part of the creative process, though its scope was limited by the know-how and technologies available.
Over time, that balance has begun to shift. Architects have moved from merely using materials to actively designing them, applying scientific principles and experimenting with biological, chemical, and computational processes. This evolution has expanded the possibilities of architecture, intersecting nature, technology, and art, while pushing the role of the architect into a more experimental, science-driven dimension, where the manipulation and creation of materials becomes central to the creative act rather than merely a means to achieve forms or structures.
Foster + Partners Gstaad House project in Switzerland. Render. Image Courtesy of Foster + Partners
Foster + Partners has received planning permission for a new timber residential building in Gstaad, Switzerland. Designed as a house in the Alpine resort town, the project combines residential use with exhibition, storage, and social spaces. According to the architects, it will be the first purpose-built facility in Gstaad to accommodate the specialised requirements of fine art, cars, fashion, and antique collections.
Innovation is at the core of architecture, expressed through new approaches to design, material experimentation, and, of course, ways of living. As a result, the conception of buildings and indoor spaces is constantly evolving. This evolution is especially evident in regions with a rich cultural heritage, such as Spain, where innovation reinterprets traditional ways of relating to space. This attentiveness to memory and daily life extends into interiors, where each intervention has the potential to actively reshape how people experience a space and open new possibilities for living and interaction.
Example of the Nested Floor System capacities. Courtesy of Offsite Wood and Quebec Wood Export Bureau
The latest release of Offsitewood.org marks a significant step forward in making offsite wood construction more approachable for architects. Version 2.0 introduces a set of digital resources aimed at helping designers model, plan, and collaborate more efficiently.
Free downloadable libraries are a central and expanding feature of the site. Additionally, new applications and services are now available that include wood material e-sample viewers, an advanced panelization and framing toolbar for Revit, and a collaborative workspace for project optimization.
Spain combines cultural diversity and a long constructive tradition that is directly reflected in its architecture. The country is home to influential schools, a consistent body of theoretical production, an active generation of architects, and a well-established construction industry with strong capabilities in innovation, standardization, and export. Contemporary Spanish architecture is marked by a plurality of approaches and by the articulation between material tradition, technology, and performance.
In this context, materials play a central role in the conception, expression, and functionality of buildings. Steel, glass, brick, stone, and wood remain essential inputs in architectural practice, but their role goes far beyond raw matter. Once industrially processed, these materials unfold into a wide range of products and systems such as technical panels, ventilated façades, structural components, extruded cladding, and brise-soleil systems.
VUILD has presented the design for a wooden soccer stadium planned for Fukushima, Japan, as the future home of Fukushima United FC. Commissioned by SportX, the proposal combines community participation, an innovative timber structure, and sustainable strategies, positioning the stadium as both a functional sports venue and a potential symbol of renewal. Inspired by the Japanese tradition of Shikinen Sengu, the periodic rebuilding of shrines, the concept introduces three cycles: resources, community, and craftsmanship.
In much of China, concrete remains the dominant construction material. Despite growing concerns over its environmental impact, concrete continues to align with the priorities of many developers and clients—it is fast, cost-effective, and highly durable. As a result, most building types in China still rely heavily on concrete. This reliance is further reinforced by China's position as the world's largest producer of Portland cement. A deeply entrenched supply chain, rooted in raw material manufacturing and economic infrastructure, ensures that concrete remains the default choice in the construction industry.
Yet historically, Chinese architecture was built upon a rich tradition of timber construction. The Forbidden City is a prime example: not only is it emblematic of China's architectural heritage, but it also remains one of the largest and best-preserved collections of ancient wooden structures in the world. This legacy prompts an important question: does timber construction have a meaningful future in China's contemporary building industry?
Since its opening in April, Expo Osaka has welcomed millions of visitors from around the world, standing as a true showcase of innovation, architecture, and design. Among its highlights is the Grand Ring, designed by Japanese architect Sou Fujimoto, considered the largest timber architectural structure in the world. Under the theme of Expo 2025 — “Designing Future Society for Our Lives”, along with Saving Lives, Empowering Lives, and Connecting Lives — more than 150 countries have used their pavilions to address key topics in contemporary architecture, such as circular construction, cultural memory, and innovation and technology aimed at shaping a sustainable built environment for the future.
As climate uncertainty and ecosystem changes reshape design priorities, architecture plays an increasingly active role in these discussions, rather than merely observing. Within this perspective, the idea of making a "re" encourages a conscious step back to rethink, reconnect, and realign the relationship between buildings and their environments. This approach, central to regenerative architecture, extends beyond specific technologies or scales, encompassing everything from master plans that aim to re-naturalize cities to national pavilions that combine art and science.
What is the way forward? On the one hand, many current discussions emphasize technology; on the other, there are approaches that, rather than being in opposition, complement one another and broaden the range of possibilities, drawing on tradition, ancestral knowledge, and a profound understanding of the environment. Among these perspectives, the work of Rudolf Steiner and the anthroposophical movement, developed in the early 20th century, offers a vision and insights that connect architecture with ecological rhythms, materials, and community life.
Rinshunkaku is a notable example of early Edo-period residential architecture. Originally built in the Wakayama Prefecture by the Kishu Tokugawa family, the villa was relocated to Sankeien, a traditional Japanese garden in the city of Yokohama, during the Taisho era (1912-1926). The garden was created in the early 20th century by businessman and art patron Sankei Hara and features a number of historic buildings relocated from Kyoto, Kamakura, and other areas of Japan. Rinshunkaku, one of the garden's gems, is a prime example of traditional Japanese architecture and wood construction. Its historical value motivated a large-scale restoration project in 2019, documented in the film Artisans of the Reiwa Era (Reiwa no Shokunin-tachi), filmed and edited by Katsumasa Tanaka and Hiroshi Fujiki. The documentary offers a close, detailed view of Japanese craftsmanship and wood expertise, highlighting rare traditional techniques and paying tribute to the artisans who preserve them.
Andanzas y visiones españolas is the book in which Miguel de Unamuno collects his experiences during excursions through Spain's cities and countryside, accompanied by friends and colleagues. More than a precise geographical description, the text consists of narratives in which each region and every feature of the territory leaves a deep imprint on his thought. The literary discourse actively weaves the diversity of setting, climate, and contextualism as foundational threads, presenting the territory not only as a physical place but also as a space for reflection and contemplation. This attentive engagement with the landscape—so diverse within Spanish architecture—also resonates in the built environment, fostering in contemporary practice a sensitive adaptation to the country's varied climatic conditions, both through design strategies and material choices.
https://www.archdaily.com/1031789/context-responsive-architecture-in-spain-7-projects-highlighting-material-strategiesEnrique Tovar
Designed by Barozzi Veiga, the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Lausanne is equipped by Arbonia with fire-protection doors, flush-mounted wooden doors and soundproofing elements made of wood.
14 individual brands and two subsidiaries are represented under the Swiss brand Arbonia. Although the brand, which is now making its long-overdue public debut, maybe new, the list of realized projects certainly is not. A glance at the reference archive, which Arbonia presents prominently, shows this. These include construction projects for the healthcare sector as well as offices and administration, historical buildings, educational institutions, hospitality and residential developments. Three particular distinct highlights stand out, as they uniquely embody Arbonia's motto: 'open to aspiration'.
Private residence in Varese / Franzetti Primi Architetti Associati
Mathematics shows us how, from just a few elements, we can generate nearly infinite combinations and how each new arrangement can completely transform the original set. Theories like chaos and complexity point in the same direction: small initial variations, such as a choice, a deviation, or a new element, can trigger profound and unexpected changes. In architecture, this manifests concretely in the daily work of a designer. The choice of materials and how they are combined may seem like a merely aesthetic or functional decision, but it holds the power to redefine a building's language, the path a project will follow, and its relationship with the surroundings and its inhabitants.
The desire to see the world from above transcends cultures and time — an almost instinctive impulse to seek new horizons, gain perspective, and momentarily step outside everyday life. Observation towers embody that desire: built in forests, mountains, urban parks, or coastal landscapes, they invite us to pause, look closely, and discover the surroundings in a quiet or playful way. These structures offer more than just views; they offer experiences. As we climb their steps or ramps, our bodies take part in a ritual of transition — from ground to sky.
What can our existing buildings teach us about building for the future? In a time of dwindling resources, architects are increasingly called to engage in dialogue—with the site, its history, and the untapped potential of what already stands. Rather than defaulting to demolition and new construction, the future of architecture may rest in uncovering the possibilities for innovation within buildings that have already stood the test of time.
