Situated along the historic Silk Road in Central Asia, Tashkent is a city with a long history spanning thousands of years. Its historic architecture is known for its courtyards, domes, and blue ceramics, typical of its Timurid heritage. The capital of Uzbekistan today, it was absorbed into the Russian Empire in the 19th century, before becoming a Soviet republic. While part of the Soviet Union, the city became an example of modernization, celebrating socialist achievements in Asia. A devastating earthquake in 1966 accelerated this modernization as the city was reconstructed, leading to many of the modernist monuments for which Tashkent is known today.
Launched in September 2024, the Rediscovering Modernism in Africa series joined a growing worldwide interest in this topic. Previously underrepresented in architectural discussions, the work of architects and researchers on the continent and abroad has continued to tell the story of these high-quality modern works of architecture. These buildings represent designers striving to create locally suited architecture using global concepts and technologies, coinciding with huge political changes as most African countries gained their independence.
The circular economy, including the reuse of building materials, is fast becoming a key component in the fight against carbon emissions. This involves designing to minimize waste and utilize materials that can be reused at the end of the building's life. On the opposing side, the reuse of materials from partially or wholly demolished buildings can also reduce waste and carbon emissions that would have resulted from using virgin materials. Sustainability purposes aside, the reuse of building materials has a centuries-old history, both for symbolic reasons and simply out of necessity.
As Syria is emerging from over a decade of conflict at the time of writing, it is an opportunity to rediscover its architectural gems. Just to the north of the country's principal port city of Latakia is a Modernist creation that is the Center for Marine Research. Its pyramidal structure is situated on a prominent headland surrounded by sea on three sides. To the east is a bay with hotels and beaches while to the north and west is the open Mediterranean Sea reaching Turkey and Cyprus beyond. Despite its importance both as a research institution and as a piece of architecture, it lies abandoned and isolated today.
As 2025 approaches its end, we look back at an eventful year in the world of interior design. Last year, designers favored reserved, modest approaches, a trend that continued from previous years. The emergence of artificial intelligence generated intense discussions on digital equity and misinformation, which continued into 2025, especially with the topic of the Venice Architecture Biennale, Intelligens. This opened the conversation to the opportunities of digital technologies, attempting a more hopeful outlook. On the other hand, completed interior design projects over the year focused more on the tangible and the pragmatic, with expressed raw materials and an appreciation of history.
Modernism has a long history in Morocco. Being close to Europe and under French Protectorate rule, it kept pace with architectural developments in the movement. Its relative peace after the Second World War further strengthened its role as some European architects sought a hub for new ideas. Architects in independent Morocco adopted Modernism as they were tasked to build the infrastructure of a new nation. The architect Jean-François Zevaco, born in Morocco to French parents, practiced across these formative periods, developing his own expressive version of modern architecture.
Biodiversity, defined by the World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF) as the different kinds of life found in an area, is in a state of crisis all across the world, with declines in the numbers of organisms and many species declared as at risk of extinction. All types are affected, from plants and fungi to large mammals, and there is a clear link to human activity being the cause. Although farming methods and climate change due to greenhouse gases play a major role, cities and buildings can play a small but important role in countering this decline.
Vernacular architecture is often referred to as harboring lessons for creating low-energy buildings and the fight against climate change. Yet, as weather patterns are changing, there are cases where traditional building techniques are themselves becoming at risk. As well as changes in temperature, different regions have faced becoming wetter or drier, experiencing increased risk of droughts, flooding, storms, and changes to local flora. The painted houses of Tiébélé in Burkina Faso, recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, are one example.
Sandibe Okavango Safari Lodge / Nicholas Plewman Architects in Association with Michaelis Boyd Associates
In Eastern and Southern Africa, safari lodges attract tourists from around the world wishing to witness the landscapes and fauna of the natural world. Usually situated in national parks and game reserves, their remote locations make for costly journeys and are therefore suitable for luxury stays. Often overlooked as an architectural typology, many lodges risk falling into the trap of being contextually insensitive or crudely mimicking vernacular building methods, resulting in pastiche. On the other hand, the safari lodge sits at the intersection of the man-made and natural worlds, bringing together rural dwellers and townfolk, wealth and poverty, wildlife and humans. Thus, it can be an opportunity to design with the highest social and environmental responsibility.
As countries in Africa emerged from colonialism in the mid-twentieth century, many expressed their independent identities through architecture. This process continues several decades later, exemplified by several new museums in West Africa, recently completed or in planning. Although varying in purpose and form, they have some common goals: addressing the need for restitution of many artifacts taken during colonialism and mostly kept in European museums; and defining a museum with local identity as opposed to a non-contextual import.
Revitalisation of Historic Esna, Egypt. Image Courtesy of Takween ICD
Among the seven winners of this year's 16th Aga Khan Award for Architecture was theRevitalisation of Historic Esna in southern Egypt. Led by the Cairo-based firm Takween, the project was far more than a simple restoration. It was a comprehensive renewal effort that combined deep community engagement with the preservation of both tangible and intangible heritage. By creating thousands of jobs and restoring the historic center, the initiative offered a powerful alternative to demolition. The Aga Khan Trust lauded it as a 'replicable model for sustainable development'.
In historic Stone Town, the main city in Zanzibar, Tanzania, the story of one cinema building and its imminent restoration is reflective of the city's history and the narrative of cinemas generally. The early twentieth century saw the advent of cinema construction, peaking in mid-century, before declining against competition with multiplexes and home television. While many were demolished or irreparably altered, many also lay abandoned, like time capsules for a bygone era. They are a snapshot of the architecture styles and methods of their time, acting as a reminder of their role in their communities. Restoring and adapting a cinema like the Majestic is a recognition of its heritage and community value.
Whether for design competitions or architectural awards, buildings are often judged for what they offer–the programmed functions, the form, or the visual delight. In a minority of cases, it is the absence or the reduction of intervention that made a project successful. In 1971, a high-profile architectural competition in Paris was won by a proposal that only utilized half the available site, giving the rest as an urban space to the city. In London, a proposal to convert a disused power station with minimal additions, leaving large spaces untouched, won a design competition in 1994. The Stirling Prize, the UK's most prestigious architectural award, in 2017 was won by a proposal that was little more than an empty platform. These examples of cultural buildings from Northwestern Europe illustrate how the absence of intervention can provide more.
Nestled amongst the plethora of grandiose and carefully crafted national pavilions in the Giardini della Biennale in the Italian city of Venice is one pavilion by the city's perhaps most well-known modern architect. Sited between the pavilions of Russia and Switzerland is the VenezuelaPavilion, by architect Carlo Scarpa. In many ways, the structure typifies the design approach of its architect but has its idiosyncrasies. Built for Europe's most important biennial art exhibition, it is a member of a cohort of Modernist pavilions that came after the earlier, more classicist pavilions. This is its story.
The colorful houses of Aswan in the south of modern-day Egypt attract tourists who venture that far up the River Nile. Accessed by small river boats, islands like Suheil West are the homes of Nubian communities, some of whom had had to relocate after the building of the Aswan High Dam in the 1960s. Behind the picturesque views of plastered walls covered in murals and motifs, perched on rocky hills overlooking the Nile, is a construction technique used locally for centuries. It uses locally sourced materials, conserves nature, and regulates internal temperatures against the heat in the day and the cold at night.
A Pan-African Biennale of Architecture is planned for 2026 in Nairobi, Kenya. According to the curator, it "represents an unprecedented opportunity to reclaim Africa's architectural narrative, reasserting the continent's role as a global leader in urban resilience, sustainability, and cultural expression."
Omar Degan, the curator in partnership with the Architectural Association of Kenya, is a practicing architect, professor, and teacher. He leads an architecture office known as DO Architecture Group, which was established between Italy and Somalia—two places deeply connected to his identity. His work focuses on what he describes as "fragile contexts" around the world, including areas affected by natural disasters, refugee camps, slum upgrades, and underserved neighborhoods.
The ancient city of Venice, Italy, home to both the art and architecture editions of the Venice Biennale, is known for its unique geography as an island city of canals. Its naval and mercantile prominence now diminished, the city has found a new purpose as a center of learning, exhibiting, and tourism. However, its urban morphology and, indeed, most of its buildings are historic and have remained largely unchanged for hundreds of years. Their appearance exhibits a specific Venetian vernacular that has stood the test of time and stands as a backdrop for the city's contemporary activities. How do the facades of these buildings, particularly their windows, reflect this history? And how do the few modern buildings in the city, such as the Palazzo Nervi-Scattolin, respond to this weight of history?
Little has been written about the work of Abdelmoneim Mustafa, one of the most respected architects in his homeland of Sudan and a pioneer in his profession in the mid-twentieth century. Esra Akcan, who made extensive research of his work with a team in Sudan during a small window of opportunity between 2019 and 2021, laments this lack of recognition thus, "How could someone as gifted as Moneim Mustafa… designer of some of the most exciting mid-century modernist buildings anywhere, be so neglected, so ignored out of Sudan, that to this day there is no internationally accessible publication in his name." Akcan's writings, coupled with the personal blog of Hashim Khalifa, who trained under Mustafa, shed light on his extensive legacy.
