Concrete, steel, wood, glass. Every year, millions of tons of construction materials are discarded, piled up in landfills, and silenced beneath the weight of the next building. Entire structures disappear to make way for others, restarting a voracious cycle of resource extraction, material production, and replacement. Along with the debris that accumulates, something deeper is also lost: time, human labor, stories, and the collective memory embedded in matter. At a time when climate goals demand reducing emissions and extending the lifespan of what already exists, demolition is increasingly recognized as a form of urban amnesia, one that erases not only cultural continuity but also the embodied energy of buildings. And even though it is often said that the most sustainable building is the one that already exists, that principle rarely survives when other interests come into play.

For architects and specifiers, selecting the right cladding system is both a technical and creative act, connecting material science with architectural intent. More than simple visual envelopes, façades today are high-performance systems that balance protection, insulation, and expression. As the first barrier between exterior and interior, the right cladding system can define how a building behaves and ages over time, affecting its thermal comfort, acoustic performance, fire safety, and overall durability.

Among the most commonly used façade materials are wood, metal sheets, composites, and aluminum systems. Within this range, single-skin metal panels and extruded aluminum panels are particularly notable for their blend of strength, precision, and architectural appeal. While both benefit from aluminum's inherent lightness and corrosion resistance, they differ significantly in structural logic, performance characteristics, and ideal applications. Companies such as Parallel Architectural Products—specialized in extruded aluminum cladding systems and architectural finishes—have played an important role in advancing these technologies, combining precision engineering, aesthetic flexibility, and local manufacturing.

In the Water Lilies rooms at the Musée de l'Orangerie in Paris, Claude Monet conceived a 360-degree gallery where visitors are enveloped by continuous landscapes, dissolving the boundaries between painting and environment. There, he sought not merely to represent nature through his distinctive style, but to construct an atmosphere, a perceptual state that the visitor literally inhabits. Architecture, traditionally associated with materiality and permanence, thus gains a new dimension of time, movement, and sensory experience.

Similarly, when contemporary architecture transforms its planes into active surfaces, it extends this pursuit of immersion and presence, now amplified by technology. At the entrance of SOPREMA's new Mammut Tower in Oberroßbach, Germany, architecture and digital narrative converge. Designed and executed by ASB GlassFloor, the newly completed lobby is an immersive environment combining glass, light, and sound into a complete spatial and sensorial experience, demonstrating how interactive technologies can become architectural materials in their own right.

Terrazzo has long stood at the intersection of durability, artistry, and timeless appeal. Originating in Italy as a pragmatic way to reuse marble fragments in flooring, terrazzo has since become synonymous with elegance and strength in architecture. Traditionally crafted by hand using stone chips and lime and later, cement, it created continuous, seamless surfaces that celebrated both craftsmanship and endurance. Over time, as construction methods evolved and projects began to demand greater efficiency, adaptability, and modularity, terrazzo expanded beyond its traditional limits. From poured-in-place systems to modern epoxy-based formulations, it has evolved into a versatile material that enables thinner sections, faster installation, and a wider range of colors and aggregates. Today, precast terrazzo complements the traditional method, unlocking new applications without compromising performance or beauty, from stairs and wall cladding to furniture and custom design elements.

Open architectural competitions have long been regarded as gateways for new ideas. They level the playing field by proposing a single call, a clear set of rules, and an evaluation based on the quality of the work, conducted anonymously. For organizers, like cities, institutions, or companies, they represent a way to gather relevant proposals in a transparent public forum, backed by a competent jury. Unsurprisingly, competitions have marked decisive moments in the history of the discipline, such as the Centre Pompidou competition in Paris, which brought Renzo Piano and Richard Rogers to prominence with their "inside-out building," or the one for Brazil's new capital, won by Lúcio Costa with the Pilot Plan that synthesized the city into two intersecting axes, interpreted as either an airplane or a cross.

So, why do competitions still matter in architecture today? Beyond their historic role in shaping iconic projects, they continue to serve as testing grounds for fresh ideas, talent, and innovation. In the following sections, we explore competitions from three angles: the motivations that keep architects returning to them, the reasons organizers continue to launch them, and a practical playbook of strategies to help you approach your next competition with clarity and purpose.

While a book or piece of music can be easily set aside if it doesn't capture our interest, architecture is different. A building endures for decades, and it shapes the landscape and influences the lives of its occupants for years to come. This permanence brings with it a unique set of challenges: architects must design spaces that impact collective life, often under tight deadlines, limited budgets, and significant pressure. In addition to navigating complex regulations and coordinating construction, architects face the misconception that design is simple, or that anyone could do it. The constant balancing act between quality, cost, and speed often leads to sacrifices — whether in time, health, or the integrity of the project itself. This cycle not only wears down the profession but diminishes society's understanding of the true value of design.

The well-known "good, fast, and cheap" triangle is rarely resolved without the architect sacrificing their own time, health, or even the quality of the project. Repeated for decades, this equation fuels a cycle of wear that not only undermines the profession but also depreciates the value of design in society, even diminishing the role of such a beautiful and important discipline.

Every act of building begins with the transformation of raw materials, energy, and land, and this inevitably entails environmental impact. This encompasses all the changes a process triggers in the natural world: from resource extraction to pollutant emissions, from energy consumption to biodiversity loss. Measuring this is complex, as it spans multiple dimensions. Carbon has emerged as the common metric, translating these effects into greenhouse gas emissions (CO₂ equivalent) directly linked to global warming. This standardization has made it omnipresent and comparable across materials, systems, and sectors. Reducing carbon emissions, therefore, means addressing the root of global warming, which is a particularly urgent task in the construction industry, responsible for about 39% of global emissions. In response to this challenge, MVRDV NEXT, the innovation and digital tools division of the Dutch architectural firm, launched CarbonSpace, a free, open platform that brings carbon accounting to the architect's desk, right at the napkin sketch stage.

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Architecture goes beyond its fundamental function of defining spaces and providing protection; it shapes the user experience, influencing sensations of comfort, spaciousness, and well-being. Among the many elements that make up a building, openings play a crucial role in connecting the interior and exterior, balancing privacy with transparency, and allowing the entry of natural light and ventilation. In particular, natural light transforms environments, defines atmospheres, and enhances architectural details, making spaces more dynamic and inviting.

In an era of digital precision, AI automation, and mass reproducibility, the value of the human craftmanship is being reimagined rather than lost. It's in this intersection between machine logic and material intuition that Dornbracht, the German manufacturer renowned for sculptural fittings, launches The Rock, the debut piece of its new Atelier Editions.

Inspired by the primal force of natural stone, The Rock is a faucet handle that is a tactile, expressive object that restores individuality and sensuality to the contemporary bathroom and kitchen landscape. Revisiting the iconic MEM series, the design introduces a bold, organically shaped handle, milled from solid metal with artisanal hand-finishing. Each piece becomes a singular creation, where industrial precision meets the intimacy of craft.

Sound, when emitted by a source — whether a person or a piece of equipment — propagates in all directions through space, being reflected, absorbed, transmitted, or diffracted as it encounters surfaces and objects. As a result, every environment has its own acoustic quality, often difficult to perceive without a trained ear or eyes. But sound shapes architecture in subtle yet profound ways, directly influencing how we concentrate in an office, how students engage in a classroom, how patients recover in a hospital, or how an audience connects in a performance hall. Despite its decisive role, acoustics often remain in the background of design discussions, overshadowed by visual and structural considerations.

In Plato's allegory of the cave, light symbolizes knowledge: it is what guides the human being out of the shadows of ignorance and toward truth. In many religions, light is also associated with divinity, as a manifestation of the sacred. Over time, light ceased to be merely a symbol of reason and became an instrument of sensitivity, a living material capable of shaping atmospheres, influencing perception, and revealing meaning.

Light is masterfully used in the quiet spaces of Tadao Ando, for example, where it seeps in like a sacred substance between concrete walls. In Alvar Aalto's buildings, it is delicately modulated to converse with the Nordic sky. In James Turrell's immersive installations, it becomes body, color, and experience. But light also manifests in the most ordinary gestures: in every precisely oriented window, or every shadow carefully drawn to reveal what is not immediately visible. Like a conductor before the score and the orchestra, the architect can compose with light accentuating volumes, softening boundaries, and giving rhythm and intensity to the spaces we inhabit.

Spain combines cultural diversity and a long constructive tradition that is directly reflected in its architecture. The country is home to influential schools, a consistent body of theoretical production, an active generation of architects, and a well-established construction industry with strong capabilities in innovation, standardization, and export. Contemporary Spanish architecture is marked by a plurality of approaches and by the articulation between material tradition, technology, and performance.

In this context, materials play a central role in the conception, expression, and functionality of buildings. Steel, glass, brick, stone, and wood remain essential inputs in architectural practice, but their role goes far beyond raw matter. Once industrially processed, these materials unfold into a wide range of products and systems such as technical panels, ventilated façades, structural components, extruded cladding, and brise-soleil systems.