Architect, researcher, and editor. Master in architecture from the Faculty of Architecture of the University of Porto and TU Munich. Based in Porto, Portugal.
In recent decades, Santiago has evolved into a hub for contemporary architectural exploration, blending its historic charm with modern interventions. Projects such as Eisenman Architects' City of Culture reflect an ambitious dialogue between avant-garde design and Galicia's natural landscape. Complementing this are works by Álvaro Siza Vieira, Arata Isozaki, Francisco Mangado, and other renowned architects, who incorporate local materials and forms into forward-thinking designs. Together, these works position Santiago de Compostela as a dynamic architectural destination within Spain's broader cultural narrative.
Porto's architectural legacy has long been shaped by the weight of history and the clarity of form. From the work of Álvaro Siza to the dense network of studios emerging from the city's schools, Porto offers a unique blend of continuity and reinvention. Here, architecture is not only a matter of design but often one of endurance — of working within constraints, of drawing with precision, and of navigating a built environment marked by permanence and resistance to spectacle.
Yet within this persistent context, a new generation of architects has been reshaping the field with quiet determination. Often formed in shared spaces, these practices balance autonomy with collaboration and meticulous detailing with broader urban concerns. Their studios tend to reflect this ethos: modest in scale, defined by adaptive reuse, and rooted in the material reality of the city. In these workspaces, architecture unfolds as a process — sometimes speculative, sometimes grounded — but always reflective of a practice that is deeply local and increasingly global.
The gas station is an architectural typology that has undergone significant transformations since its inception. Initially, these structures were simple roadside refueling points designed for functionality rather than aesthetics. As automobile culture expanded, gas stations evolved to accommodate new technologies, shifting urban landscapes and changing consumer behaviors. Over time, they became more than just utilitarian stops — they developed into service hubs, integrating restaurants, motels, and leisure spaces, responding to contemporary transportation increasing demands.
By the late 20th century, however, the widespread standardization of gas stations led them to be perceived as "non-places", a concept defined by anthropologist Marc Augé to describe transient spaces that lack social or cultural significance. With uniform designs and a focus on efficiency, gas stations became interchangeable, reinforcing their role as purely functional infrastructure rather than meaningful architectural interventions. This standardization also departed from the era when fuel stations served as recognizable landmarks, contributing to a homogenized landscape devoid of local identity.
The intersection of architecture and medicine profoundly shaped modernist design, where transparency, light, and air became essential tools in the pursuit of health. Emerging from the tuberculosis crisis of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the sanatorium evolved beyond a medical facility into a testing ground for architectural innovation. The necessity of fresh air, sunlight, and sterility transformed these spaces into prototypes for modernist principles, influencing spatial organization, material choices, and design philosophies that extended far beyond healthcare.
More than sites of treatment, sanatoriums embodied contemporary medical theories in built form. At a time when tuberculosis — often called the white plague — devastated populations worldwide, medical professionals prescribed environmental exposure as the primary therapy. Architecture adapted accordingly, producing buildings with expansive terraces, large windows, and streamlined interiors designed to optimize ventilation and maximize natural light.
Amidst the traditional streets of Antwerp, where centuries-old townhouses stand as remnants of a historic European city, a stark white volume quietly asserts its presence. Maison Guiette, designed by Le Corbusier in 1926, is an anomaly in its surroundings — a bold statement of modernity in a context that had not yet embraced it.
While today it is overshadowed by the architect's more famous works, this house holds a unique place in history: it was Le Corbusier's first built project outside France, a precursor to his later architectural experiments, and a manifestation of his emerging Modernist principles. Despite its modest scale, it was a manifesto in built form — a house that encapsulated the essence of an architectural revolution.
Architecture is often defined by its physical form, materials, and structural elements, but light and shadow truly shape the experience of space. These elements influence perception, guide movement, and evoke emotional responses, transforming static structures into dynamic environments. Throughout history, architects have harnessed the interplay of light and shadow, using it as a fundamental design tool to create atmosphere and meaning.
Sustainability in architecture is often framed as a universal challenge, leading to standardized solutions that prioritize efficiency over context. However, architecture is inherently tied to its environment — buildings interact with climate, topography, and cultural history in ways that demand specificity. Instead of relying on standardized sustainability checklists, how can architecture embrace site-specific solutions? This conversation is deeply connected to the concept of Genius Loci, or the spirit of a place, introduced by Christian Norberg-Schulz and embraced by architects advocating for designs that resonate with their surroundings. It suggests that architecture should not be imposed upon a site but rather emerge from it, informed by its materials, climate, and cultural significance. This philosophy challenges the widespread application of generic sustainable technologies, instead proposing that sustainability must be inherently tied to the location in which it operates.
Envisioned as a "daylight factory", the Van Nelle complex introduced revolutionary architectural and social concepts for its time. By integrating glass, steel, and concrete into an open, rational layout, it demonstrated how design could transform industrial processes while improving the lives of the people within. It was not merely a space for production but a symbol of optimism, representing the potential of architecture to reshape industries and communities.
Osaka, Japan's third-largest city, is a vibrant blend of tradition and modernity, making it a compelling destination for architecture enthusiasts. Known historically as the "nation's kitchen" for its role as a mercantile hub, Osaka is also a city of cultural and architectural diversity. Its landmarks range from the historic Osaka Castle to striking contemporary developments, each reflecting Japan's evolving urban identity.
As the host city for the highly anticipated Expo 2025, Osaka is poised to showcase its architectural prowess on a global stage. The city's skyline features innovative works by renowned architects and urban planners, including cutting-edge cultural centers, transportation hubs, and waterfront redevelopments. With contributions from celebrated Japanese architects such as Tadao Ando, Kengo Kuma & Associates, and Takenaka Corporation, alongside international figures like Dominique Perrault, Renzo Piano Building Workshop, and Pelli Clarke & Partners, Osaka seamlessly blends modernity with tradition, creating a unique architectural identity that reflects its past while looking boldly to the future.
Modernism, a movement that sought to break away from traditional forms and embrace the future, laid the groundwork for many technological and digital advancements in contemporary architecture. As the Industrial Revolution brought about mass production, new materials, and technological innovation, architects like Le Corbusier, Walter Gropius, and Mies van der Rohe championed the ethos of "form follows function" and a rational approach to design. Their principles resonate in the digital age, where computational design and high-tech materials redefine form and construction.
The 20th century's modernist ideals — efficiency, simplicity, and functionality — created a foundation for architects to experiment with structural clarity and material honesty. High-tech architecture, which emerged in the late 20th century, evolved from these principles, merging modernism's clean lines with advanced engineering and technology. This paved the way for parametricism and algorithm-driven design processes, revolutionizing architecture and enabling complex forms previously thought impossible.
In the early 20th century, tuberculosis presented a significant public health challenge across Europe, prompting the construction of specialized facilities for patient recovery. The Paimio Sanatorium in Finland stands as a groundbreaking example of architecture's potential to promote healing. Designed by Alvar Aalto between 1929 and 1933, the sanatorium combined innovative design principles with a deep understanding of human needs, setting new benchmarks for healthcare architecture.
Alvar Aalto, a leading figure in modernist architecture, envisioned the Paimio Sanatorium as more than a functional response to a medical crisis. He crafted a space where architecture became an instrument of care, integrating natural light, ventilation, and harmonious forms to support physical and emotional well-being. This project marked a turning point in Aalto's career, showcasing his ability to blend modernist ideals with a profound sensitivity to context and human experience.
Modernism emerged in the early 20th century as a revolutionary movement that rejected historical styles, prioritizing functionality, innovation, and rationality. Grounded in the promise of industrial progress, architects like Walter Gropius, Le Corbusier, and Ludwig Mies van der Rohe championed using new materials and construction methods, striving for a universal architectural language. Their work introduced radical ideas: open floor plans, expansive glazing for natural light, and pilotis that elevated structures, symbolizing a new architectural era. However, alongside its groundbreaking ideas, modernism's relationship with sustainability has sparked ongoing debates.
While modernist architects sought to address social and economic challenges through affordable housing and efficient design, their reliance on energy-intensive materials like concrete and steel created unintended environmental consequences. The large-scale industrialization celebrated by modernists often disregarded local climates and ecological systems, leading to inefficiencies. Yet, the principles of functionality and adaptability embedded in modernist architecture laid the groundwork for what we now recognize as sustainable practices. From Le Corbusier's rooftop gardens to Frank Lloyd Wright's integration of nature, the seeds of environmentally conscious design were undeniably present, albeit limited in their execution.
Bilbao, the largest city in Spain's Basque Country, has undergone a remarkable transformation over the past few decades. Once an industrial hub, the city has redefined itself as a center for culture, innovation, and urban regeneration. This evolution has been partly driven by architecture, which plays a central role in shaping Bilbao's identity. From contemporary landmarks to thoughtfully repurposed spaces, the city's built environment reflects a careful balance between honoring its industrial heritage and embracing modernity.
The turning point in Bilbao's architectural narrative came with the inauguration of the Guggenheim Museum Bilbao in 1997. Designed by Gehry Partners, this iconic structure catalyzed the city's renewal, sparking a wave of urban and cultural investments. This transformation became known as the "Bilbao effect," a phenomenon where a single, significant architectural project triggers wider urban regeneration and economic growth. Today, Bilbao is a dynamic architectural landscape, where works by international figures like Santiago Calatrava, Norman Foster, and Arata Isozaki coexist with projects by local studios such as ACXT and Coll-Barreu Arquitectos. Together, these interventions illustrate how architecture can be a powerful social, economic, and cultural revitalization tool.
2025 promises to be a landmark in architecture, heralding a vibrant renaissance of creativity and exploration. As societies confront challenges such as climate change, rapid urbanization, and technological evolution, architecture is both a mirror to these dynamics and a compass pointing toward a sustainable and inclusive future. This year's architectural calendar offers abundant opportunities to celebrate the discipline's transformative power — from boundary-pushing festivals to thought-provoking exhibitions that explore pressing cultural and environmental narratives.
From well-established biennials to inaugural gatherings, including the World Architecture Festival 2025, Desert X Al Ula, and the COP Climate Conference, the 2025 calendar highlights themes such as sustainability, heritage, and community. These events underscore architecture's unique ability to shape a better future, addressing global challenges while honoring cultural diversity and design ingenuity.
Upper Lawn's thoughtful interplay between the new and the existing is particularly compelling. Built on the remains of an 18th-century English farmhouse, the pavilion repurposes thick masonry walls from the original structure, incorporating elements such as the well, trees, and lawn into its design. Using prefabricated materials like timber, glass, and aluminum, the Smithsons constructed a light-filled space that harmonizes with its surroundings, embodying their principle of "as found architecture" — a concept rooted in honoring and adapting to preexisting conditions rather than imposing on them.
In architectural design, materials convey narratives, shaping how spaces are perceived and experienced. Weathering steel, often known by its genericized trademark name, Corten steel, stands out for its ability to evolve, transforming into a medium that tells its own story. It represents a group of steel alloys that form a stable external layer of rust that replaces the need for paint to protect the steel while allowing it to develop in time. Its weathered patina serves as more than a functional shield; it becomes an aesthetic language, a testament to the interplay between architecture and nature. This ever-changing surface bridges the ephemeral and the enduring, offering architects a material that grows richer with age.
As communities grow more multicultural and increasingly diverse, these spaces serve as physical manifestations of religious inclusion, encouraging the acceptance of religious and ethnic minorities within multicultural landscapes. Their proliferation reflects a growing need for inclusive environments that cater to diverse spiritual needs while promoting interfaith understanding. However, designing and implementing these spaces presents complex challenges, often sparking debates about representation, neutrality, and the very nature of sacred space. These discussions underscore the delicate balance architects must strike in creating spaces that are both universally welcoming and spiritually meaningful.
The concept of inclusive architecture has gained prominence as the built environment evolves to reflect and address the diverse needs of humanity. This approach prioritizes empathy, accessibility, and equity, striving to create spaces that resonate with individuals across a spectrum of demographics, abilities, and cultural contexts. It moves beyond merely meeting accessibility standards or incorporating universal design elements; instead, it embodies a paradigm shift that humanizes architecture and aligns it with fundamental social values. Through this lens, inclusive architecture fosters connections, embraces diversity, and ensures that physical spaces contribute to collective well-being.
This article explores four interrelated themes — Empathy, Inclusive Architecture, and Spatial Equity and Accessibility— through selected articles published in 2024. Together, these themes reveal how architecture can respond to societal challenges and aspirations, illustrating its potential as a catalyst for social change. From designing for emotional connection to addressing spatial inequalities, the lessons of 2024 emphasize the responsibility of architects to create spaces that transcend functionality, champion inclusivity at every scale, and foster environments where everyone feels seen, valued, and empowered.
