The Royal Institute of British Architects (RIBA) has revealed the six shortlisted projects for the 2025 RIBA Stirling Prize. Since its establishment in 1996, the prize has recognized works that respond to contemporary challenges while shaping more inclusive futures. This year's shortlist spans a diverse range of scales and programs, including the restoration of one of the nation's most iconic landmarks, a pioneering medical research facility, a contemporary almshouse designed to reduce isolation among older residents, a university's "factory for fashion," a fully accessible home, and a creative house extension. The winner of the award will be announced live at the Stirling Prize ceremony on 16 October in the Roundhouse, London.
The Philippines' Pavilion at the 19th International Architecture Exhibition – La Biennale di Venezia presents Soil-beings (Lamánlupa), an exhibition curated by artistic director Renan Laru-an. Through interdisciplinary collaborations, the Pavilion brings together architects, technical experts, indigenous leaders, artists, policymakers, and local communities to explore the cultural, ecological, and technological dimensions of soil. Its objective is to challenge conventional architectural paradigms by shifting the focus from structure to soil, not as a passive material, but as a living force with agency, history, and power.
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.
Houhai Hybrid Campus design. Render. Image Courtesy of Büro Ole Scheeren
The international firm Büro Ole Scheeren has unveiled images of the Houhai Hybrid Campus, a new urban complex in Shenzhen's Houhai district. The development is situated in a strategic area within the original Shenzhen Special Economic Zone (SEZ), bridging the city's commercial center and its bayfront. The release of the Hybrid Campus images coincided with the 45th anniversary of Shenzhen's designation as a Special Economic Zone, a milestone marking the city's transformation from a fishing village into a global innovation hub. Currently under construction, the Hybrid Campus integrates work, living, culture, commerce, leisure, recreation, and nature into a unified urban complex, scheduled to open in late 2026.
Architects today work across many worlds: from designing furniture, landscapes, and urban blocks to creating film sets, photographs, and videos. They restore and retrofit old buildings rather than build anew, while also writing, researching, and publishing. Some design virtual spaces for video games or speculate on habitats in outer space and underwater. Others engage directly with society through politics, activism, or community projects. Many experiment with biology, test new materials, and step into the role of scientist. Architects are decolonizing old narratives and decarbonizing the construction industry, and by weaving together personal passions with pressing social and environmental challenges, they are pushing the limits of the profession and expanding its scope.
With so many changes in the profession, especially in recent years, one may ask: How is the role of the architect evolving in response to global crises and shifting societal needs? In what ways can interdisciplinarity expand the scope and impact of architectural practice? And what skills beyond traditional design are becoming essential for architects in today's world?
Italy's rich history, evident in its monuments and cities, has created a unique context for architectural renovation. Italian architects often embrace this heritage by engaging in a dialogue between old and new, rather than aiming for a complete transformation. This approach intentionally avoids an imitative style, instead using contemporary materials like steel, glass, and new wood to frame and highlight the existing historic stone and brickwork. This juxtaposition turns the original materials from simple structural elements into featured decorative and narrative ones. The result is a layered experience where the history of the space remains visible, ensuring it is preserved rather than erased by the renovation.
In architecture, the effect of color is rarely neutral. It has the power to calm or energize, to expand or compress space, to unify or divide. Far from solely being a decorative layer, color is a tool that architects, interior designers, and designers use to structure atmosphere and perception. Alongside light, material, and proportion, it is one of the most precise instruments available for guiding spatial experience. When treated deliberately, it becomes a system — one that allows designers to articulate relationships between spaces, establish moods, and create continuity across various scales.
Color is not limited to paint. Surfaces, materials, finishes, and technical elements all carry chromatic weight. Yet in practice, color often remains uneven across the finest details — switches, sockets, intercoms — frequently appearing as neutral interruptions. This gap highlights a broader question: if color is to be considered a true architectural tool, should it not extend to every detail, no matter how small? Addressing this, German manufacturer JUNG has extended Le Corbusier's Polychromie Architecturale to electrical installations, allowing essential building components to speak the same language as the surrounding architecture.
Surfing is, without a doubt, one of the most visually striking and fascinating sports. A fluid choreography that combines strength and delicacy, like a dance on the waves, gathers enthusiasts across the world's oceans. Yet, behind this image of freedom and connection with nature, the sport also carries contradictions. It is a symbol of outdoor life and respect for the ocean, but on the other hand, it is marked by territorial disputes over waves and by an environmental footprint that rarely receives the same attention given to its aesthetics. In times of climate crisis, this paradox becomes even more evident. Surfing depends directly on the health of marine ecosystems, the very ones most affected by pollution and global warming. This tension has been pushing a new generation of shapers, architects, and material designers to seek alternatives, from plant-based and recycled foams to the reuse of industrial waste, in order to reconnect the sport with its ecological dimension.
21st Europe, a Copenhagen-based think tank founded by former SPACE10 creative director Kaave Pour, has introduced its second major blueprint, Continent of Play. Developed in collaboration with design and architecture studioSpacon, the proposal reimagines playgrounds as vital civic infrastructure, positioning them alongside museums, transport hubs, and energy grids as defining spaces for Europe's future.
Today, September 2, the seven winners of the 16th Cycle (2023–2025) of the Aga Khan Award for Architecture were announced, following on-site reviews of the 19 shortlisted projects revealed in June. Established in 1977, the Award seeks to identify and encourage building concepts that respond to the physical, social, and economic needs of communities with a significant Muslim presence, while also addressing their cultural aspirations. To understand the vision behind this cycle's winners, ArchDaily's Editor-in-Chief, Christele Harrouk, spoke with Farrokh Derakhshani, who has been with the award for over four decades. He described the initiative as "a curated message to the world," a message that evolves with the times.
Work and learning environments have undergone profound transformations in recent decades. In offices, cubicles and compartmentalized rooms have given way to open, collaborative layouts. In schools and universities, traditional classrooms with rigid layouts, blackboards, and rows of desks have been replaced by more dynamic, flexible, and interactive spaces. In both contexts, the goal was to encourage integration, creativity, and constant exchange. But this openness has also introduced new challenges: increased distractions, sensory overload, and the difficulty of finding moments of focus or introspection. The more we remove barriers in favor of fluidity and collaboration, the more essential it becomes to provide moments of quiet, intimacy, and sensory balance for those who need to self-regulate. The challenge is both spatial and psychological, raising a fundamental question for architecture: how can we support connection and withdrawal, activity and silence, at the same time?
Amid the traffic-clogged arteries of Los Angeles, where cars have long ruled the streets, the future of urban mobility is being questioned. The reorientation focuses not on simply removing cars or introducing new technology, but on envisioning the city as an integrated system in which people, places, and vehicles coexist in balance. Automobiles are no longer the unquestioned centerpiece of urban life; instead, they are treated as one component of a broader, multimodal transportation network. Design now seeks to prioritize human needs and experiences over vehicular dominance.
Telosa is a conceptual proposal designed by Bjarke Ingels GroupBIG in collaboration with entrepreneur Marc Lore, first announced in 2021. Planned to accommodate five million residents by 2050, the project sets out to establish a framework for sustainable and equitable urban living. Its initial phase, projected for 2030, is expected to house 50,000 people. Positioned as a purpose-built city, Telosa presents a long-term vision that combines ecological resilience, technological systems, and an alternative governance model as a possible prototype for future urban development.
"La Quadreria" interior photo gallery. Italian Pavilion at the 2025 Venice Architecture Biennale. Image Courtesy of PCM Studio di Paola C. Manfredi
The Italian Pavilion at the 19th International Architecture Exhibition – La Biennale di Venezia is situated in the Tese delle Vergini of the Arsenale and is promoted by the Directorate-General for Contemporary Creativity of the Italian Ministry of Culture. This year, the Pavilion hosts architectural, scientific, and cultural reflections on the Mediterranean Sea and its neighboring oceans, in an exhibition titled "Terrae Aquae. Italy and the Intelligence of the Sea", curated by Architect and Professor Guendalina Salimei. The exhibition brings together projects from diverse actors in Italian society through an open call, whose objective was to rethink the boundary between land and water as an integrated system of architecture, infrastructure, and landscape. In response to the Biennale's central theme, the exhibition aims to stimulate the awakening of a collective intelligence capable of triggering a renewal in that relationship, starting from the Italian coast and expanding globally.
Overprovision can be seen as an architecture strategy through the lens of resilience—making spaces adaptable to changes, reinterpretations, and future needs. However, could overprovision also offer a productive lens for rethinking spatial design? Are there parallels in architectural theory or practice that align with this concept, as explored by notable figures in the discourse on space?
This question becomes particularly relevant in residential design, especially in regions like Hong Kong or Tokyo, where the demand to maximize space is a cultural and practical norm. Designers are frequently tasked with "making use of every inch" for storage or function, reflecting a tendency among residents to accumulate belongings disproportionate to their living spaces.
The term vault in architecture refers to a self-supporting arched structure that forms a ceiling or roof, which can effectively create a wide, column-free space. While traditional masonry vaults transfer loads to walls and buttresses, contemporary versions are more broadly defined as any ceiling that follows the roofline, creating a high, curved interior. These modern ceilings are typically framed using materials like concrete, timber, or steel, which provide the structural flexibility to create the dramatic effect of a vault without its historical constraints. The round arch vault, in particular, seems to have been a recently favored form for its simple, elegant geometry and its ability to adapt to a variety of modern residential styles.
In preserving architecture, there are many possible approaches—ranging from treating a building as a static monument, meticulously restoring it in situ to the point of limiting public access, to more adaptive strategies that reprogram and modify interior spaces while retaining key architectural elements such as materiality and structural form. Yet one method stands apart, both in ambition and in controversy: to deliberately dismantle a building—brick by brick—meticulously label and document each part, and store it until a new site, purpose, or narrative emerges. Then, to reassemble it anew, possibly for an entirely different use. Though the original context is lost, this strategy aims to preserve cultural significance through transformation rather than stasis. This is the story of Murray House in Stanley, Hong Kong.
Originally constructed in 1846 as officers' quarters for the British military in Central, Murray House was one of the earliest examples of neoclassical architecture in Hong Kong—a unique and enduring trace of the city's colonial past. Its robust granite colonnades and symmetrical façade stood as a symbol of classical permanence. During the Japanese occupation of Hong Kong in 1941, the building's function was repurposed as the command center for the Japanese military police. It survived the war and continued to house various government departments throughout the postwar decades.
What if the best kind of play isn't the safest? For decades, cities have built playgrounds to be clean, colorful, and easy to supervise. Yet these spaces—designed more for adult peace of mind than for children's curiosity—often strip away what makes play truly transformative: risk, unpredictability, and self-direction. Rising safety standards, shrinking public space, and the commercialization of play equipment have only further narrowed the possibilities for children's independent exploration. From a junkyard in 1940s Copenhagen to the concrete landscapes of postwar Amsterdam, a handful of architects, planners, and activists have challenged the idea that play must be neat and controlled. Their unconventional playgrounds—made of loose parts, raw materials, and abstract forms—gave children the freedom to build, demolish, explore, and get dirty.
Two students sit one desk apart. One excels in science. The other struggles. One receives praise, the other criticism. One gains confidence, the other slowly loses it. It's easy to assume the difference comes down to effort, parenting, or natural ability. But what if the real factor was the classroom itself? Imagine the student who fell behind sat at a desk flooded with glare from poorly placed windows every single day. With fixed homeroom seating, they couldn't move. Over time, that small but constant distraction turned into disengagement, and disengagement eroded their confidence. A chain reaction triggered not by effort, but by design.
Snøhetta has unveiled plans for Jesselton Docklands, a tropical waterfrontmaster plan in Kota Kinabalu, Malaysia, on the island of Borneo. The development reimagines the city's former port as a civic and cultural hub, strengthening its connection to the waterfront and positioning it as a new gateway to Sabah and the wider Southeast Asian region. Situated near Kota Kinabalu International Airport, the development includes a new ferry and cruise terminal, integrating infrastructure with the island's ecological and cultural context to position the city as a key point of connection within the region.
Nature Rocks masterplan for Jialeshui, Taiwan. Render. Image Courtesy of MVRDV
MVRDV revealed the design of rock-like tourist facilities and infrastructure for the Taiwanese coastal area of Jialeshui, a scenic destination in the southernmost part of Taiwan. The Pingtung County Government recently selected the design proposal submitted by MVRDV in collaboration with HWC Architects for the transformation of an area known for its rock formations shaped by wind and water, including a series of structures inspired by these natural forms. The project, a masterplan titled Nature Rocks, introduces a network of new pathways and public spaces and adds small-scale buildings, including a central visitor centre and three lookout points, within the existing built footprint.
In contemporary architecture, hotel design is no longer defined solely by luxury and accommodation. Instead, it is becoming a platform to explore questions of identity, ecology, and cultural meaning. Beyond providing rooms and amenities, hotels today aim to create immersive experiences that connect travelers to local traditions, landscapes, and communities. In this curated selection of unbuilt hospitality projects, submitted by the ArchDaily community, speculative and competition-winning proposals offer a glimpse into the future of hospitality, where sustainability and storytelling are as central as comfort and style.
