Heritage restoration has always been an intricate process that requires delicate balancing between preserving the integrity of historic materials while integrating contemporary techniques that can enhance accuracy, efficiency, and resilience. With the restoration process of Parliament Hill in Ottawa, Canada's capital city, this intersection of tradition and technology is now on full display. The East Block, built in 1865, offers a compelling example of how digital tools can support the efforts of heritage restoration and contribute to a centuries-old craft such as stone carving.
In most situations, architects navigate a complex web of construction codes, airspace regulations, and numerous other rules that dictate the form and execution of a project. However, cultural architecture often presents a unique opportunity for more daring and expressive designs. These projects frequently garner support from local governments, unlocking possibilities for formal explorations that might otherwise remain unrealized. In this regard, cultural architecture serves a dual purpose: enriching the community and establishing iconic landmarks that define the identity of their city or region. This ambition has certainly manifested in Taiwan. Situated in the heart of East Asia, this island nation boasts a remarkable array of formal explorations by both international and Taiwanese architects.
Detail of the Garifuna Kiosk Network. Image Courtesy of 24 Grados Arquitectura
How can architecture restore relevance to forgotten places? What dialogues can emerge when buildings and landscapes are treated not as blank slates, but as layers of memory, identity, and potential? For the Honduran architecture firm 24 Grados, these questions shape an approach rooted in adaptation, reuse, and contextual design. Their projects range from the restoration of old Spanish plazas and cultural centers to interventions in natural parks and coastal villages in Honduras. Each one is grounded in the belief that design can reweave relationships between people, place, and heritage.
Once seen as purely utilitarian, bare concrete blocks have increasingly become part of an architectural transformation. In regions where warm climates make insulation unnecessary, this material can be left exposed, free of cladding, finishes, or embellishment. In doing so, texture, bond, and form can define the building's character and simplify construction while creating new opportunities for expression and identity. This also creates a platform to explore the concept of material honesty. Beyond its aesthetic value, using a material "as is" can significantly reduce construction costs and minimize maintenance during the building's lifespan.
When thinking about Japan, the first thing that comes to mind is the bustling streets of Tokyo, old fortified castles, and the cherry blossom-lined rivers in the urban areas. However, little is discussed regarding a real estate market problem currently ongoing in the country: Akiya, a Japanese term that translates to an empty house. In 2024, the number of Akiya in Japan went up to a record high of nine million units. Some believe that at the root of the issue is depopulation. When homes are passed down through family inheritance, they frequently become burdens rather than assets. As younger generations increasingly move to cities or live in apartments, they usually have no interest in living in or maintaining the old family home, especially if it's located in a less convenient or rural area. Cities like Tokyo see a smaller number of Akiya due to the elevated price of the land. Nonetheless, issues such as elevated costs of adapting the house to the new earthquake regulations and higher taxation on vacant land, still cause people to abandon them even in urban areas.
Terrace Garden between both phases. Image Courtesy of NEUF architect(e)s
With modern medicine, it may be difficult for many people today to imagine the devastation caused by Tuberculosis (TB) just about 100 years ago. Initially associated with insalubrious, overcrowded conditions, just in Canada it caused the death of approximately 8000 people annually in the late 19th century. During this time, before more advanced treatments were discovered, prescriptions from doctors involved sunlight, fresh air, and rest. As a response, sanatoria were established. These were places where patients could be separated from the community to manage their disease. One testament to that legacy stands in the heart of Montreal: the former Royal Edward Laurentian Institute, later known as the Montreal Chest Institute. Born from crisis, it has since become a symbol of resilience, transformation, and innovation, shifting from a space of isolation to a thriving hub for research and entrepreneurship in the life sciences.
When we think about cities, we often assume the orthogonal grid is the norm: neat, predictable, and rational. However, many urban areas around the world, notably those shaped by hills and uneven terrain, defy this convention. In cities like Lisbon, in Portugal orthogonal grids appear only in flatter zones such as Baixa, while surrounding areas like Alfama adapt organically to topography. These areas create more layered, irregular, and visually dynamic urban forms. Yerevan in Armenia, offers another urban example of this adaptation: the Cascade Complex transforms a steep hill into a terraced public space that connects different city levels while framing panoramic views. For other countries, this response to topography becomes even more critical. Cities like Tegucigalpa in Honduras or Valparaiso in Chile are defined by steep, irregular terrain that requires architects to engage deeply with the land. Designing in these contexts, especially for residential projects, demands technical adaptation and a contextual understanding that allows the slope to become a generative element in the design process.
For nearly the past two decades, cities around the world embraced "starchitecture"—futuristic, eye-catching buildings designed by globally renowned architects. In China, this trend was particularly pronounced as rapid urbanization fueled the construction of iconic megastructures like Zaha Hadid's Galaxy SOHO, OMA's CCTV Headquarters, and Herzog & de Meuron's Bird's Nest Stadium in Beijing. At the time of their construction, these were all celebrated as symbols of progress and global ambition. However, architecture worldwide has begun shifting toward a more context-driven, human-centered approach, with China emerging as one of the key contributors to this transformation. This year, Liu Jia Kun's 2025 Pritzker Prize further underscores that shift.
Despite its small size, the island of Taiwan is densely populated, with more than 80% of its people living in urban areas. Available space is often limited, particularly in major cities like Taipei, Taichung, and Kaohsiung. Therefore, designers face the ongoing challenge of creating interiors that feel spacious, functional, and visually appealing despite their sometimes compact footprints. Rather than seeing these limitations as constraints, architects embrace them as opportunities to experiment with smart layouts and multi-functional furniture that enhances livability.
Canada's Expo 67 stands as one of the most successful world expos ever held, setting records and leaving an enduring impact on Montreal's urban landscape. As part of Canada's 100 years celebrations, the event provided an opportunity for the city to showcase its cultural and technological achievements on a global platform. With over 50 million visitors in just six months, it shattered attendance records, including an astonishing 569,500 visitors in a single day. An unprecedented feat for a world fair at the time. Now, 58 years later, and with the Osaka Expo 2025 set to showcase how to design the future society for our lives, it is worth revisiting the legacy of Expo 67 and exploring the urban transformations it brought to Montreal.
In recent years, pink has evolved beyond its traditional associations to become a sophisticated and versatile element in architecture and interior design. Defined by a broad spectrum of shades, pink encompasses both warm and cool tones, ranging from pure red tints (R) to blends with yellow (Y80R, Y90R) or blue (R10B, R20B, R30B), as classified by the Natural Color System (NCS). While difficult to define by a single shade, this color balances vibrancy and softness, making it adaptable across different materials and contexts. As pink continues to gain prominence in contemporary interiors, its role extends beyond being a mere color choice—it is a design strategy. The recent transition from the bold, playful pinks of the "Barbiecore" trend to softer, powdery hues seen in fashion and design in 2025 fashion collections, highlights the color's adaptability. Its presence in Pantone's 2025 color palettes, also reinforces its appeal across disciplines. When applied thoughtfully, pink can transform spaces, making them feel inviting, expansive, or timeless.
The concept of "sponge cities" has gained prominence since it was introduced by Chinese landscape architect Kongjian Yu, founder of Turenscape, and was officially adopted as a national policy in China in 2013 to combat urban flooding. This approach prioritizes nature-based infrastructure such as wetlands, rain gardens, and permeable pavements, creating landscapes with porous soil where native plants can thrive with minimal maintenance. When it rains, these systems absorb and slow down water flow, reducing flood risks. In contrast, traditional concrete- and pipe-based drainage solutions, though widely used, are costly, rigid, and require frequent maintenance, sometimes even making cities more vulnerable to flooding due to blockages and overflows.
In 1975, Honduras was under a military regime that had been in power for over a decade, led at the time by General Juan Alberto Melgar Castro. During this period, Tegucigalpa underwent several big and unprecedented changes. The influx of people from various parts of the country due to rural migration transformed the city from a compact urban area into an expanding metropolis. This unexpected growth prompted the government to implement a municipal development and planning scheme, a project that would define the city's future and the evolution of its old town. This article was developed with the collaboration of the Honduran architect Lisandro Calderón, who specializes in Urban Planning and is currently a professor at the Central American Technological University (UNITEC), located in Tegucigalpa, Honduras.
Despite their whimsical appearance, treehouses offer a unique platform for structural innovations and design explorations. Traditional treehouses rely on the trunks of trees for structural support, but, in order to ease the load supported by the tree, contemporary projects often introduce additional systems, such as stilts to maintain the image while offering additional support. One of the key advantages of elevating them in this way is the reduced environmental footprint. Treehouses can be designed to leave the forest floor untouched, preserving small-scale ecosystems. By freeing up the ground below, they minimize disruptions to native flora and fauna, allowing nature to thrive undisturbed. Similarly, many architects use the local topography to create seamless connections, incorporating ramps, stairs, or bridges that integrate with the landscape. These solutions not only improve accessibility but also enhance the overall experience creating an architectural promenade that moves between the treehouse and its surroundings.
"This sensitivity to the environment is reflected not only in the structural design but also in the careful selection of materials. The use of natural materials like wood, also helps the structure blend with its environment. Some designers have gone further by employing alternative materials such as mirrored panels to reflect the surrounding forest and mask the treehouse's presence entirely, demonstrating that the choice of material can contribute to creating a project that feels like an extension of its setting rather than an imposition on it. This collection highlights notable examples from Sweden, Denmark, Indonesia, and France, showcasing their diverse approaches.
Phyllis Lambert has been a key figure in the preservation of Canada's cultural heritage. As an architect and advocate for heritage conservation, Lambert has left an indelible mark in Montreal and other cities worldwide. Her contributions to Montreal's architectural scene can't really be judged in terms of individual buildings, but rather in terms of the city as a whole. She not only cofounded the Canadian Center for Architecture (CCA), but also helped reshape the way cities like Montreal think about heritage and the importance of community voices in urban planning.
Religious architecture in Asia is evolving by incorporating modernist influences while preserving its spiritual essence. Clean lines, minimalist aesthetics, and materials like concrete, steel, and glass are a common sight. These interventions often replace or complement the intricate ornamentation and natural materials traditionally associated with sacred spaces in the region. This approach allows these structures to achieve a universal appeal while still reflecting their cultural and spiritual foundations.
Several examples highlight this blend of tradition and modernity. The Cloud of Luster Chapel in Japan uses slender columns and abundant natural light to create a luminous atmosphere, evoking Frank Lloyd Wright's Johnson Wax Building. The Temple of Steps in India incorporates cascading steps that emulate the traditional Ghats, combining cultural symbolism with Brutalist aesthetics. Similarly, the Water-Moon Monastery in Taiwan employs concrete, straight lines, and reflective pools in a manner influenced by Le Corbusier's Five Points of Architecture. Finally, the Jetavana Buddhist Temple in South Korea and the Upper Cloister in China integrate their layouts with the surrounding stone and hillside, drawing parallels to Wright's desert houses. Together, these projects demonstrate how Asian religious architecture is redefining sacred spaces through a modernist lens while honoring their traditional heritage.
