The Latvian Pavilion at the 19th International Architecture Exhibition – La Biennale di Venezia, commissioned by Jānis Dripe and curated by Liene Jākobsone and Ilka Ruby, explores the impact of military defense on the country's border landscape. The exhibition was designed by SAMPLING and Nomad Architects to highlight how geopolitical tensions shape both territory and daily life. In times of escalating international warfare, the curatorial team poses the question of what it means to live on NATO's external border in times of geopolitical conflict.
Deir Ez-Zor Heritage Library team on site. Image Courtesy of Deir Ez-Zor Heritage Library
It is common for states to have legislation and institutions that protect their built heritage. It is also common for there to be gaps in the laws themselves or their implementation while certain circumstances may place a country's heritage under specific vulnerabilities. Thus, alongside state institutions, there are locally based architects and researchers establishing independent initiatives to document and conserve aspects of their built heritage. Syria is one example of a place with an extensive history of monuments and buildings of interest as well as active groups of independent conservators.
The almost cliché image of the white picket fence has become synonymous with the ideals of the American Dream. Behind the fence, there is invariably a perfectly manicured lawn, a green carpet upon which life can unfold. This image and its associations are not, however, accidental. In her book, "Domesticity at War", Beatriz Colomina notices that, since the Second World War, the lawn has taken a central space in the imagination of the country, becoming first a in order to make space for diversity, both social and ecological. symbol of the stability of the homes soldiers were hoping to return to, offering a space where those at home could still perform duties for the nation, and, after the war, propagating the image of an idealized lifestyle, one maintained with hard work and dedication. In recent years, the lawn has emerged once again as a site of conflict, this time between those hoping to preserve this idealized image, and those seeking to break the uniformity in order to make space for diversity, both social and ecological.
When he was invited to design the 21st Serpentine Pavilion in London’s Kensington Gardens public park, Chicago-based artist Theaster Gates envisioned a calm space to offer respite and a subtle exploration into the power of sound and music in architecture. Created out of lightweight stained wood, the “Black Chapel” demonstrates more than just artistic and architectural sensibilities. In addition to the use of sustainable materials, the project also pays close attention to how the building materials are sourced, bringing visibility to the problem of modern slavery in the construction materials supply chain.
As has become customary in recent years, on the first Monday of October, we celebrate both World Architecture Day and World Habitat Day, serving as a reminder to the global community of its collective responsibility for the well-being of the built environment. This edition, like its predecessors, sheds light on the realm of architecture and the challenges faced by our cities, introducing new themes, contemplating the state of our urban areas, and proposing constructive strategies.
Since urban economies have encountered significant difficulties this year, the UN's World Habitat Day focuses on "Resilient Urban Economies: cities as drivers of growth and recovery." Launching Urban October, this event seeks to bring together diverse urban stakeholders to deliberate on policies to help cities recover after the dual economic impacts caused by the COVID-19 pandemic and conflicts worldwide. Aligned with this concept, World Architecture Day, created by the UIA in 1985, has chosen to concentrate on "Architecture for Resilient Communities," emphasizing the role and duty of architecture in fostering thriving community existence while initiating a global dialogue regarding the interconnectedness of urban and rural regions within every nation.
The luxury hotel, as an architectural typology, is distinctive. In effect, it's a self-contained community, a building that immerses the well-off visitor into their local context. Self-contained communities they might be, but these hotels are also vessels of the wider socioeconomic character of a place, where luxury living is often next door to informal settlements in the most extreme examples of social inequality.
Skyscrapers are an unmissable characteristic of contemporary settlements. From São Paolo to New York, from Seoul to Dubai – these towering structures are a ubiquitous part of the urban fabric. The conventional image one has of these structures is of curtain-walled facades, but in Yemen – an ancient example goes against this trend. Central Yemen is home to the city of Shibam, surrounded by a fortified wall. It’s also home to a dazzling example of architectural ingenuity – tower houses that date back to the 16th century, stretching up to seven stories high.
At the onset of the coronavirus pandemic in March 2020, affluent Parisians flocked to second homes on France’s Atlantic coast as a nationwide lockdown came down on the country. In June 2020, as the lockdown was eased in England, residents headed to seaside towns like Bournemouth to soak in sunny weather. The former scenario reflects the widening gap between France’s wealthy and the poor, whilst the latter is a reflection of the democratizing power of public-access beaches.
In both situations, what is sought out is the ecological calmness usually found on beaches. Globally, however, there’s an unsettling phenomenon, where intertwined with climate change and policy decisions, beaches are increasingly becoming private, inaccessible spaces.
Architecture is often intertwined with political context. This deep connection is especially evident in Northern Ireland, a place of infamously complex politics. The state came into existence as a consequence of war in 1921, when Ireland was partitioned into an independent Irish Free State (now the Republic of Ireland) and Northern Ireland, an industrious region still controlled by Britain. Conflict has since ensued in Northern Ireland between a majority pro-British Unionist population, and a minority, though significant, Irish Nationalist community. The latter half of the twentieth century witnessed a brutal struggle, with over three thousand people killed, thousands more injured, and harrowing images spread across the world.
The turbulence of Northern Ireland’s conflict is played out in the architectural development of Belfast, its capital city. With thirty years of war from the 1960s to 1990s, the architecture of Belfast embodied a city under siege. When the prospect of peace dawned in the 1990s, an architecture of hope, confidence, and defiance emerged. In the present day, with Northern Ireland firmly on a peaceful path, Belfast has played host to a series of bold architectural ideas and landmark public buildings by award-winning architects. With the rich, bitter, emotive history of Northern Ireland viewed through multiple, often conflicting prisms, the architectural development of Belfast offers a tangible narrative of a city which burned, smoldered, and rose from the ashes.
Buddhas of Bamiyan (1963, 2008). Image via Wikipedia
In an article for the Financial Times(FT), writer and historian Simon Schama examines world conflict zones and the efforts to protect some of the world’s most vulnerable architectural and cultural sites. If history is a measure, then Schama's study of William “Basher” Dowsing - an Englishman who, in the winter of 1643, "made it his personal mission to obliterate as much as he possibly could of sacred art in the churches and colleges of East Anglia" in the name of religion - is pertinent now more than ever.
In an article for the London Evening Standard, Robert Bevan examines one of the many often overlooked consequences of conflict: the destruction of monuments, culture, and heritage. With heightened conflict in the Middle East over the past decade an enormous amount of "cultural genocide" has occurred - something which Bevan notes is "inextricably linked to human genocide and ethnic cleansing." Arguing that "saving historic treasures and saving lives are not mutually exclusive activities," case studies from across the world are employed to make the point that with the loss of cultural heritage, most commonly architectural, the long term ramifications will resonate throughout this century.
How has the advancement of the Modern Movement design ethos, through geo-political expansion from the Western world, challenged the cultural foundation and aesthetic heritage of Asia?
