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For centuries, chickens have lived alongside people in settlements of every scale, from rural farms and village compounds to dense urban neighborhoods. Across much of the world, keeping a flock has been part of everyday life, providing eggs and meat to residents, or pest control for the surrounding agricultural land. The structures built to house chickens varied according to local materials, climate, and cultural practices, yet they shared a common purpose: to create a space where chickens and humans could coexist. The chicken coop is not a new architectural typology nor a contemporary response to urban living. Instead, it is a form that has continually adapted to changing social, environmental, and spatial conditions.
The kitchen has evolved from a functional space into a shared environment and the heart of many households. Serving as the setting for daily rituals in countless families—and even collective practices in urban life—food brings people together, making the design of spaces that respond to these needs essential to everyday living. Beyond the various kitchen layouts, aesthetics, and configurations, the integration of appliances and equipment plays a key role supporting storage, preservation, and daily use that cooking demands. From innovative technologies to advanced materials, these elements shape contemporary kitchen spaces that bring together customs and cultures from diverse backgrounds.
There is a standard way of telling the history of architecture and food. It begins with the human decision to cultivate, to store, to distribute, to consume, and ends with the building that decision produced. In this version of events, food is the occasion and architecture is the response.
But what if the story runs differently? What if the tomato built Almería? What if the cod redesigned the North Atlantic? What if the soybean is, at this moment, constructing a port in Santos and demolishing a forest in the Cerrado simultaneously, and the architect has simply not been told? These are descriptions of processes already complete, or well underway, that have produced some of the most spatially consequential contemporary landscapes. Much of the built environment is shaped by the pressures, metabolisms, and territorial ambitions of what we eat. Architecture, in this, is often less a project than a consequence, and the discipline has been telling its own story from the wrong end.
What transforms a space of living into a home? Beyond ownership or shelter, a home is tied to a quieter sense of certainty: the feeling that one can retreat, rest, and momentarily step away from the world's unpredictability. Homes are where routines accumulate, memories settle into spaces and objects, and where personal identity takes physical form through occupation and everyday rituals. Yet this sense of belonging depends on another condition that often goes unnoticed until disrupted: security. To feel "at home" implies a condition of comfort and stability. When domestic environments fail to provide this, spaces designed for rest become sources of unease, subtly affecting routines and well-being.
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.
A collective discussion titled "Beyond Recognition: Exploring the Role of Architectural Awards" is taking place on June 29 in Barcelona, on the occasion of the UIA World Congress of Architects 2026. The debate starts from the conviction that, in today's context of accelerating global challenges, the role of architectural awards must evolve. The event follows the conversation initiated during the 2025 Venice Architecture Biennale, where the relevance of awards was questioned, paving the way for a new conversation on how architectural awards can contribute to shaping practice, institutions, and public discourse. The discussion sessions are convened by representatives of major international awards: the Aga Khan Award for Architecture, Ammodo Architecture Award, EUmies Awards, Holcim Foundation Awards, Mies Crown Hall Americas Prize, and the OBEL Award, and are joined by prominent figures in the field of architecture and design.
Contemporary architecture has learned to celebrate living matter. Mycelium panels, algae systems, living walls, life is now welcomed into buildings, framed as innovation. Yet the same discipline that celebrates these organisms treats mold as contamination. Both are biological. Both respond to moisture, temperature, and material conditions. The difference is not scientific. It is about which forms of life architecture is willing to accept, and which it prefers to remove.
Mold is not limited to abandoned buildings or poorly maintained interiors. It appears in homes, schools, offices, historic structures, and new construction, across different climates and contexts. This makes it harder to ignore as a minor or isolated problem. If mold keeps returning, what is it telling us about the environments buildings create?
