Cafés in museums and galleries do more than provide convenience — they have become an essential part of today’s cultural experience. As Claire Bishop explains in her idea of the “expanded aesthetic experience,” cultural spaces now include hybrid environments that encourage new ways of engaging, socializing, and reflecting. In this context, cafés are not just places to rest; they extend the visit on both sensory and symbolic levels, offering moments of interaction and contemplation in carefully designed settings. By blending architecture, art, and hospitality, they help create immersive and welcoming atmospheres — a concept already hinted at by Brian O’Doherty, who viewed exhibition spaces as an integral part of the artwork itself.
What can a pavilion’s architecture reveal about its country? At major World Expos, national pavilions are designed to answer this question, transforming into spaces laden with symbolism. Though temporary, these structures are rich in meaning, functioning as architectural expressions of political identity. Their forms and materials encapsulate national ambitions. Expo Osaka 2025, the latest chapter in this ongoing narrative, showcases how nations increasingly use built space to construct global images of themselves—sustainable, technological, culturally distinct, and geopolitically relevant.
In today’s dense, vertical cities, terraces—often overlooked as mere technical rooftops—are emerging as key spaces for reconnecting with nature, expanding residential functions, and offering moments of collective relief. Particularly in single-family homes located in compact urban areas, these elevated surfaces represent valuable opportunities to increase usable living space without occupying more land. By lifting daily life above street level, terraces open new ways of inhabiting the city, enabling a range of uses from leisure and contemplation to food production and social gathering. In contexts marked by limited green space and strained infrastructure, they hold the potential to generate what landscape architect Catherine Mosbach calls "additional layers of urbanity." Whether imagined as hanging gardens, gathering spots, edible landscapes, or wellness zones, terraces challenge the idea that the city ends at the top floor—inviting us to see the roof as a new kind of ground.
Artificial intelligence (AI) is no longer a futuristic idea in architecture — it is a concrete reality that is reshaping how we design. In seconds, computational systems can process and evaluate a wide range of variables — formal, programmatic, contextual, and regulatory — guiding architects toward highly optimized solutions. But as we embrace this algorithmic revolution, a critical question arises: can architectural intelligence be reduced to data-driven logic? In response, alternative approaches are gaining momentum — ones that value ways of building grounded in sensory experience, adaptation to place, and the intergenerational transmission of knowledge. In the exchange between artificial and ancestral forms of intelligence, a deeper understanding begins to take shape. Intelligence does not reside in the tools themselves, but in the intention and sensitivity with which we use them to navigate complex realities.
The architecture of cultural and community centers in rural areas around the world has become a rich field for experimentation, where tradition and innovation intersect. Rather than replicating standardized urban models, these projects embrace contemporary approaches tailored to local realities, blending bold design, sustainable technologies, and collaborative processes. Often developed in close partnership with local communities, they draw on regional materials and cultural symbols to create spaces that do more than host activities: they express a collective identity and a profound sense of belonging. By reimagining vernacular knowledge through a modern lens, these buildings support and inspire new ways of living in the countryside.
Around the world, different cultures have developed unique ways of understanding and experiencing healing. Far from being merely a physical process, healing encompasses emotional, spiritual, social, and architectural dimensions. Healing spaces—whether physical, symbolic, or natural—reflect each culture's values, beliefs, and ways of life. Exploring these cultural approaches not only broadens our perspective on health but also encourages us to reconsider how we design environments that nurture care and well-being.
The spaces where artists create their work reveal a great deal about their creative journey—their techniques, themes, and inspirations. These places hold memories, intimacy, and emotional connections. For some artists, the studio is a secluded space, free from distractions. For others, it is a place for openness and freedom. Often, the studio becomes the home—or the home becomes the studio—blending function, desire, and necessity. Positioned at the crossroads of living and creating, leisure and work, these spaces fascinate art lovers. Many are later recreated in galleries or transformed into museums. Regardless of the artist’s fame, these spaces offer a unique look into the creative process, the artwork, and the artist's identity.
Between silence and chaos, we shape our world. Every space we inhabit tells a story, evokes emotions, and influences our thoughts. Minimalism, with its lightness and purpose, invites serenity. Maximalism, exuberant and vibrant, celebrates personality in every detail. But how do these philosophies affect our minds? Understanding their psychological impact can be key to creating environments that enhance well-being and bring harmony to life.
The way we perceive and experience spaces extends beyond aesthetics—they directly influence our emotions, thoughts, and even creativity. Spacious environments with high ceilings often evoke a sense of freedom and inspiration, while smaller, enclosed spaces encourage focus and introspection. This is not merely a subjective impression but a scientifically studied phenomenon. In the 1960s, anthropologist Edward T. Hall introduced the term "Cathedral Effect" to describe how ceiling height impacts cognition and behavior. More recent research has expanded on this idea, demonstrating how architecture shapes decision-making and emotional states in various contexts.
The desert is a landscape in constant transformation. Shaped by the wind, its dunes, ridges, and fissures emerge and fade in an ever-shifting expanse, as if the scenery itself were alive. It is a land of stark contrasts, where the scorching heat of the day gives way to the crisp coolness of the night, revealing nature in its most primal form. In such a dynamic and untamed environment, how can architecture not only integrate but also respect and engage with its surroundings? This is the challenge faced by hotels built within Latin America’s vast desert landscapes.
Image by Wilfredo Rafael Rodriguez Hernandez, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons.
A radiant Rio de Janeiro, bathed in sunlight and carried by the ocean breeze. The beach is full of life—children run across the sand, families enjoy their time together, and laughter drifts through the air. This vibrant postcard from the 1970s, depicting a Cidade Maravilhosa exuding freedom and vitality, sets the stage for "I'm Still Here," a Brazilian film that film which recently won the Oscar for Best International Feature, marking a first for Brazilian cinematography. Further recognizing its merits, the film also received Oscar nominations for Best Actress and Best Picture. The film's setting provides a rich backdrop for exploring the urban landscape of Rio during a pivotal period in its history. As the story unfolds, this bright and open setting gives way to the architectural and urban impacts of the fear and uncertainty of the military dictatorship that ruled Brazil for over two decades.
Washington Square Park, New York, NY, 2024. Photo by Barrett Doherty, courtesy The Cultural Landscape Foundation
Protests, civil disobedience, and dissent are not only a defining part of our shared history since the colonial era, they also continue to the present day on campuses, at political conventions, and elsewhere. In this context, some historic marches, sit-ins, and other actions are enshrined in our collective narrative, while others have faded from memory; however, the cultural landscapes that served as stages where these events occurred still exist. These places are the focus of Landslide 2024: Demonstration Grounds and a portal for re-engaging with the stories of little-known or even forgotten events that were pivotal in USA history. The thirteen different sites across the country, represented in the new report and digital exhibition from The Cultural Landscape Foundation (TCLF), touch on events that shaped individuals and sparked movements.
Maria Carlota de Macedo Soares was born in 1910 in Paris, where her father—who ran one of Rio de Janeiro’s most influential newspapers, Diário Carioca—was exiled. Raised among the elite, Lota arrived in Brazil in 1928 at the age of 18. She was often described as a controversial figure, known for her love of race cars, wearing jeans and men’s shirts, and for her discreet yet enduring relationship with the acclaimed American poet Elizabeth Bishop.
On the shores of serene lakes, where water reflects the harmony between architecture and nature, homes emerge as true retreats. Designed to offer comfort and a deep connection with the surroundings, these residences stand out worldwide for their diverse materials and scales, adapting to different landscapes and lifestyles. From remote woodencabins to sophisticated concrete and glass mansions in urban areas, each project takes advantage of natural resources and the unique characteristics of its setting.
