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Olivia Poston is a designer, researcher, writer, and educator based in Boston, Massachusetts. Her design practice studies environmental narratives of resource security and landscape urbanism by employing data visualizations and cartographies to reveal the spatial relationships between urbanism, labor, landscape, and minerals. Her research on the energy transition, climate infrastructure, and resource extraction has received generous support from the Norman Foster Foundation, the Penny White Project Grant, the Climate Solutions Living Lab, and the London Centre for Interdisciplinary Research. Olivia holds a Masters of Design Studies at Harvard’s Graduate School of Design within the Ecologies domain and a Bachelors of Architecture from the University of Tennessee in Knoxville.
Forests are among the most complex yet vital ecosystems on Earth. They regulate climate, support biodiversity, and sustain human communities. With the growing realities of climate change and environmental degradation, architects, planners, and engineers now face a new imperative: designing within forests in ways that sustain the ecosystems on which they depend.
Humid environments present some of the most complex challenges in architectural design. From the tropical monsoon season of Southeast Asia to the equatorial heat of Central Africa, these environments demand solutions that account for intense moisture, high temperatures, and the constant battle against mold, decay, and stagnation. Yet, for centuries, communities in these regions have developed architectural techniques that do not fight against humidity but instead work with it, leveraging local materials, climate-responsive design, and passive cooling techniques to create sustainable and livable spaces. By considering atmosphere as a sensory and climatic phenomenon, architects will craft spaces that are not only evocative but also responsive, adaptive, and sustainable.
Boston City Hall, one of the most debated examples of Brutalist architecture in the United States, has significantly transformed since its conception. Designed by Kallmann, McKinnell, and Knowles and completed in 1968, the fortress-like concrete exterior and geometric austerity have long divided public opinion. Critics, including a former mayor, called for its demolition for decades arguing that its imposing design was inhospitable, inefficient, and most importantly, not beautiful. However, rather than tearing it down, Boston has chosen to renovate and revitalize the structure, demonstrating that contested Brutalist architectural styles can be adapted for a more sustainable future.
Brutalist architecture in the United States is a monument to collective postwar optimism and reassurance that the city and federal governments are in authority. Conceived as an embodiment of strength and efficiency, Brutalist structures were quickly adopted for the architectural language of civic and governmental institutions in the mid-to-late twentieth century in the United States. Towering monoliths of raw concrete rose across the nation, projecting an image of institutional permanence while simultaneously provoking debate over their social and psychological impact.
Mid-century modernism, celebrated for its simplicity, functionality, and direct connection with nature, is often associated with urban and suburban environments. However, its principles found fertile ground in the rural landscapes of the United States East Coast. The post-war architectural movement, characterized by innovative materials, clean lines, and harmony with natural surroundings, reveals its adaptability in the hands of architects and craftsmen working in rural regions of the East Coast. Although associated with metropolitan areas, its adoption in rural settings reveals a compelling story of cultural and environmental adaptation.
Urban living has become synonymous with limited space and creativity for compact apartments. As cities become more dominated by concrete and steel, there is an exciting, yet unsurprising, rise in interest in embracing the green thumb, even within the constraints of a dense urban environment. This interest is not purely to tend aesthetic tastes, as studies consistently show that exposure to nature reduces stress, improves focus, and enhances overall well-being. However, in dense urban environments, the challenge lies in finding innovative ways to make this vision a reality for apartments where every inch matters.
Mountainous and high-altitude regions are considered to be among the most fragile ecosystems on Earth. From melting glaciers to land erosion, these environments face mounting threats from climate change, making it imperative to reimagine how architecture and its supporting infrastructure are designed for such places.
The communities settled in mountain ecosystems are especially vulnerable to the impacts of climate change because of their proximity to early symptoms of changing environments and lack of access to adaptive resources and materials. Beyond all poetic aspirations of building and living in mountain environments, it is an urgent challenge to design solutions that properly resist hostile climatic conditions and promote sustainable and safe human settlements in mountainous regions.
The farm-to-table movement represents a profound shift in how food is grown, distributed, and consumed. Rooted in sustainability and the support of local economies, it prioritizes fresh, locally sourced ingredients and fosters direct relationships between producers and consumers. While the concept focuses on food, the spaces where these connections occur are equally important in shaping the experience, highlighting the critical role of architecture.
Lydia Kallipoliti is a recognized architect, author, and educator whose pioneering research has transformed the way architecture engages with the pressing challenges of sustainability, technology, and environmental politics. As an Associate Professor at Columbia University's Graduate School of Architecture, Planning, and Preservation (GSAPP), Kallipoliti's approach to architectural education encourages students to confront critical issues such as waste, reuse, and closed-loop systems. Her pedagogical philosophy empowers students to see design not only as an aesthetic or functional pursuit but as a powerful tool for addressing global ecological crises, urging them to think systemically and creatively about the future of the built environment.
In addition to her role in academia, Kallipoliti has authored influential works such as The Architecture of Closed Worlds and Histories of Ecological Design: an Unfinished Cyclopedia, which delve deeply into the relationship between architecture and environmental politics. Her research and writings have sparked discourse on methods for architects to reconsider traditional design paradigms and embrace sustainability as a core tenet of architectural practice.
Urban apartments are frequently praised for their clever use of space, but what of their approach to color? Thoughtfully incorporating color is more than an aesthetic decision; it has the potential to shape emotional responses, influence mood, and create spatial illusions. Research in color psychology shows that colors affect our social, cultural, and psychological reactions, making them powerful design tools. Variations of blue, for instance, have been shown to slow melatonin production, keeping people more awake and alert, while shades of green relieve strain on our nervous systems, helping us feel calmer and more grounded. Color in architectural spaces can even alter our perception, creating illusions of depth, movement, and texture that influence how we experience space. Warmer hues like oranges and reds tend to make a room feel more intimate and cozy, while cool whites and blues lend a sense of openness, making spaces appear taller and more expansive.
Every year, over a thousand people complete the 2,192-mile (3528-kilometer) Appalachian Trail between Springer Mountain in Georgia and Mount Katahdin in Maine. Millions more follow the trail for a shorter stretch by spending time at the countless overlooks, walking along the wooded ridges, or meandering through the small town centers, making this network one of the world's most visited and widely recognized trail corridors. However, the proposal for this expansive trail corridor, originally entered in a 1921 Journal of the American Institute of Architects article by Benton MacKaye, was far from a mere recreational outdoor amenity. This "project in regional planning" was a radical critique of the industrializing modernity that sharpened the divide between expanding cities of the Eastern coast and waning towns of the Appalachian mountains.
Rural environments are often difficult to define in administrative and professional contexts and carry notable biases and complexities. Population and density thresholds are the most common determinants for drawing administrative boundaries, yet other factors, such as infrastructure, employment, and services, contribute to the characterization of rural environments. In the United States, the Census Bureau defines rurality, not by its characteristics or resources, but by absences, as "any population, housing, or territory not in an urban area." For the design and planning community, it is important to define the future of rural environments, not through the metrics of urban resources or infrastructure, but to design a new framework for flexibility, adaptation, and health.
This summer, over one million visitors, spectators, and athletes are expected to gather in the streets of Paris for the 2024 Summer Olympic Games. The preparation for the event included massive investments into upgrading infrastructure, venues, and public spaces throughout the city and country. In addition to the restoration of Grande New de I'Île-des-Vannes venue, the Georges-Callerey Swimming Pool, and the Poissonniers Sports Center, the city has revealed new typologies of public services and a master plan for the Olympic Athletes Village by Dominique Perrault Architecture.
Are humans the only stewards of the built environment? For many architects and planners, spaces are designed with a focus on the needs, comfort, and health of humans. A spatial ordering, in constructed spaces and the urban fabric, designates humans as the default, singular user in this scenario. However, as much as humans have influenced the trajectory of the world, other species play a crucial role in designing, forming, and maintaining the urban landscapes of the twenty-first century.
In November of 2022, the coastal city of Sharm El Sheikh, Egypt, hosted the 27th convention of the United Nations Conference of the Parties, known as COP27. Since signing the Paris Agreement in 2015, the nearly annual conference has gained momentum as a global leader in sharing knowledge and developing frameworks to mitigate climate change worldwide. While the more recent COP28, held in Dubai in 2023, focused on conversations of energy production, this previous conference focused on urban contexts, as they deal with the urgent need for incorporating loss, damage, and climate reparations into climate action plans. As two years have now passed since COP27, it is important to revisit these discussions and hold governing bodies accountable for the promises made and the benchmarks set for climate change mitigation. One of the most ambitious plans from COP27 highlights an urgent debate in our urban environments: how will we define loss, damage, and climate reparations in the twenty-first century?
