Aerial View of Lush Green Hills and Traditional Homes in Cauca, Colombia, Showcasing Nature and Rural Tourism. Image by Jhampier Giron M, via Shutterstock
Before a building can be inhabited, many other things need to happen. Water has to arrive, energy has to be generated, food has to be grown or transported, and waste has to go somewhere. These processes are usually treated as something outside architecture, even though they shape the most basic conditions of everyday life.
This is why the idea of self-sufficient communities is more complex than it first appears. It can suggest a place that provides more of what it needs: energy, water, food, shelter, and waste management. Yet, in many Latin American contexts, autonomy is not a complete separation from the world. It is a way of bringing the systems of daily life closer to the people who use, maintain, and care for them.
House of Wine in Berneck. Image Courtesy of Faruk Pinjo + Carlos Martinez Architekten
Bi-folding doors flood a room with light, offering the spatial flexibility to establish a dialogue with the surroundings. The Woodline series by Solarlux integrates manufacturing quality and technical expertise with architectural freedom, providing transparent facade solutions for versatile, sustainable architecture. The natural surfaces further enhance the building envelope with a distinct tactile quality.
Blur Building, Lake Neuchatel, Yverdon-les-Bains, Switzerland, 2002. Image Courtesy of Diller Scofidio + Renfro
Architecture is traditionally chronicled through the persistence of the solid. We define the discipline by the weight of the lintel, the mass of the pier, and the resistance of the wall. Even when lightness is invoked, it is usually understood as a subtractive act, the thinning of a section or the precarious reduction of a load. Yet there is a parallel history, less visible and harder to isolate, in which the primary material of construction is not what occupies space, but what moves through it.
To treat air as a medium is to move past the binary of the envelope. The boundary between the interior and the world ceases to be a line of absolute separation and becomes, instead, a site of filtration and pressure. We begin to see the building as a thermal valve, a series of gradients where moisture, velocity, and heat are not merely background "conditions" to be mitigated by mechanical systems, but are the very substances being shaped.
Each year, the ArchDaily Next Practices Awards highlights emerging studios that are expanding the scope of architecture through new methods, materials, and ways of working. Selected from a global pool, these practices reflect a shift away from singular definitions of the discipline, engaging instead with broader questions of construction, environment, and social impact. Rather than operating within fixed categories, many of these studios position themselves across fields, combining design, research, and production to respond to contemporary conditions.
Named one of the winners of the 2025 edition, Hand Over is a Cairo-based practice operating across design, construction, and research. Founded by Radwa Rostom, a civil engineer with over fifteen years of experience in development and sustainability, the studio works through an integrated design-build model, engaging with earth construction, local materials, and community-based processes.
Architecture is often evaluated through what gets built. But in many cases, what matters happens after: how spaces are used, adapted, and made part of everyday life. For Región Austral, winner of ArchDaily's 2025 Next Practices Awards, this is where design really begins. Working across many contexts, the practice approaches public space not as a single object, but as something that needs to be activated, negotiated, and sustained over time. Their projects focus less on defining form and more on creating the conditions for use, with design serving as the starting point.
This approach can be seen across different contexts, from the Olympic Neighborhood Square to the Playón de Chacarita network. While each project responds to a specific situation, both explore how public space can support collective life in areas marked by fragmentation and inequality. Instead of following a predefined approach, the work adapts to different urban conditions, using participation and incremental strategies to shape how spaces function over time.
Barcelona House - Strom Architects - Sliding - Helena Lee Photography
Throughout much of history, weight has been closely associated with the very idea of architecture. Vitruvius, whose notion of firmitas linked construction to stability and permanence, understood solidity as one of its fundamental qualities, and building largely meant resisting the effects of time, gravity, and natural forces. In Greek and Roman architecture, monumentality depended on the available construction systems and materials, such as stone and solid masonry, whose expression was defined by mass, thickness, and structural repetition. Columns, walls, and podiums, beyond supporting buildings, asserted their presence in the territory, communicating order, durability, and power. Architecture met the ground with weight.
Architectural history often advances through iconic gestures or technological breakthroughs, yet some works remain influential precisely because they resist spectacle. Built between 1972 and 1974 in Sint-Martens-Latem, Belgium, the Van Wassenhove Residence stands as one of those quiet but decisive projects. Conceived as a single, continuous concrete volume set within a wooded landscape, the house challenges conventional ideas of domestic comfort, privacy, and spatial hierarchy. Its presence is direct and uncompromising, yet it avoids monumentality, positioning itself instead as a lived structure shaped by everyday rituals and long-term inhabitation.
The house was designed by Juliaan Lampens, a figure who operated largely outside the dominant architectural narratives of his time. Working mostly in Flanders and often on private commissions, Lampens developed a body of work centered on radical spatial reduction, material honesty, and an almost ethical approach to construction. The Van Wassenhove Residence is frequently described as his most complete work, not because it introduces new ideas, but because it consolidates many of the principles that run consistently through his career.
Using massive s plates, often several centimeters thick and weighing tons, Richard Serra's sculptures convey an almost improbable sense of lightness. This effect does not result from a reduction of mass, but from how that mass is organized: large curved surfaces tilt, narrow passages compress the body, and seemingly unstable elements create a constant sense of imbalance. Serra transforms weight into a dynamic spatial experience.
In architecture, lightness has occupied a central role at least since the modern period. While earlier traditions, such as Greek and Roman architecture, were closely associated with stability, and large churches with monumentality, the twentieth century introduced a decisive shift in how matter is handled, particularly through the separation of structure and enclosure.
Twenty meters tall and four thousand years old, the Western Deffufa towers over the adjacent date orchards and ancient city remains in the desert. It is a former religious and administrative building near the modern-day Sudanese town of Kerma. Its significance is not only in its age and size, but also in that it is one of the oldest mud brick buildings in the world. And as the nearby mud brick houses also attest, earth is a material of continuous use from ancient times to the present. Yet, conversations around contemporary building systems have largely ignored this essential material. Some architects on the continent of Africa, however, are changing that.
Offsite construction dramatically reduces construction waste and ensures precision assembly, but long-term sustainability relies on the durability of the factory-applied building envelope.. Image Courtesy of Terraco
The global offsite construction market—encompassing modular, precast concrete, and hybrid prefabricated systems—was valued at USD 172 billion in 2024 and is projected to reach USD 225.7 billion by 2030 (CAGR 4.9–8%). In the UAE, government targets call for 25–30% offsite content in public projects by 2030; the UK currently leads globally, with 15–20% of housing using offsite solutions. Offsite manufacturing is increasingly promoted as the sustainable future of construction, with benefits including reduced waste, accelerated delivery, and improved quality control. Sustainability is not defined by how quickly a building is assembled. It is defined by how long it performs.
Beneath the ground lies a material that has quietly shaped the architecture of the modern world. Petroleum is rarely discussed within architectural discourse, yet the extraction, circulation, and consumption of oil have profoundly reorganized the spatial logic of territories. Pipelines, refineries, drilling platforms, ports, highways, and petrochemical complexes form a vast infrastructural landscape that sustains contemporary life, composing a dispersed architecture of energy.
Throughout the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, oil became the material foundation of industrial society. It fueled transportation, powered factories, and supported the growth of cities whose spatial organisation depended on continuous energy flows. Yet the infrastructures that enable these flows rarely become objects of architectural inquiry. Attention remains largely directed toward form, typology, or urban density, while the material systems that sustain these environments tend to remain displaced within the discipline.
In temperate and cold climates, architecture typically begins with a defensive gesture. The building envelope is a sealed boundary designed to resist the exterior environment through insulation, vapor barriers, and mechanical control. In cold countries like Canada, where winter temperatures can plunge well below freezing, airtightness is not a luxury. In this context, buildings must resist the exterior environment entirely to maintain interior comfort. However, in Central America, a region spanning from Belize to Panama, architectural logic shifts from exclusion to negotiation. In this region, the envelope is not a wall of defense but a specialized filter.
Buildings were always intended to solve a straightforward problem: shelter. Through form and material, they protected occupants from the weather and organized human activity. Modern architecture, along with evolving lifestyles, added new priorities — efficiency, density, structural innovation, and aesthetics. People now demand more from buildings. Occupants increasingly want environments that actively support how they live, work, and feel.
Wellness has become a central concern in modern times. Decades of research in environmental psychology and building science reveal that indoor conditions can profoundly affect human health and behavior. Lighting influences circadian rhythms and sleep patterns. Air quality impacts cognitive performance and respiratory health. Temperature and acoustics shape comfort and concentration.
In recent years, earthen construction has gained renewed attention in architecture. Materials such as adobe, rammed earth, and compressed earth blocks, once mainly associated with vernacular traditions, are increasingly being explored by contemporary architects. Rather than representing a simple return to the past, this renewed interest reflects a broader reconsideration of how architecture engages with materials, local resources, and environmental conditions.
For centuries, building with earth was part of everyday construction across many regions of the world. Techniques such as adobe, rammed earth, cob, and other soil-based systems developed gradually through adaptation to climate, available resources, and local construction practices. These methods responded directly to environmental conditions while shaping cultural ways of building. This knowledge circulated through collective practices rather than formal architectural education, allowing techniques to evolve through continuous experimentation.
House with Seven Gardens / Civil Architecture. Image Courtesy of Civil Architecture
For centuries, domestic architecture throughout the Gulf has been organized around the courtyard. Houses presented thick exterior walls and limited openings to the street, turning inward toward a shaded garden that structured everyday life. This spatial arrangement responded to both climate and culture. The courtyard brought daylight into deep plans, enabled cross-ventilation, and provided a protected outdoor environment within dense urban fabrics. In the House with Seven Gardens, in Diyar Al Muharraq, Bahrain, the Bahrain-based practice Civil Architecture, one of the winners of the ArchDaily 2025 Next Practices Awards, revisits this spatial tradition through the conditions of contemporary suburban housing. Rather than reproducing the courtyard house as a historical model, the project reinterprets its environmental logic within the regulatory frameworks and spatial conditions that shape much of today's urban development in the Gulf.
Ontario Science Centre Exterior South View. Image Courtesy of Snøhetta and Hariri Pontarini Architects
Hariri Pontarini Architects and Snøhetta have been selected to design the new Ontario Science Centre in Toronto. Announced in February 2026, the 400,000-square-foot facility will anchor the site's ongoing transformation through a 220,000-square-foot building defined by a series of scalloped, modular volumes. A central component of the proposal is the physical integration of the existing Pods and the historic Cinesphere via elevated connections and a continuous public promenade. Construction is expected to begin in Spring 2026, with completion anticipated in 2029 as part of a broader waterfrontredevelopment strategy.
