Smiljan Radić's architecture often begins elsewhere: in a memory, a journey, a material, a stone, a half-seen structure, or a situation not yet organized as an architectural idea. In "Architecture: Distraction and Knowledge," his 2026 Pritzker Architecture Prize Laureate Lecture, distraction does not appear as a lack of focus, but as a way of receiving the world. It is through these peripheral encounters — travel, ruins, cities, stories, industries, and materials — that architectural knowledge slowly accumulates.
When Radić was announced as the 2026 Pritzker Architecture Prize laureate, the recognition did not simply confirm a body of work already known for its material strangeness. It also clarified an architectural position that has long resisted easy translation into theory, or style, or spectacle. Radić's work is often described through oppositions: heavy and light, primitive and industrial, fragile and monumental, shelter and object, ruin and apparition. Yet these terms only partially account for the force of his architecture. What makes the work difficult, and increasingly necessary, is its refusal to become fully legible as a claim of certainty.
Copenhagen, Denmark. Image Courtesy of Lindsay Martin via Unsplash
Copenhagen is long famous as the global capital of human-scale design and livability. Today, the city has widened its focus and is an active space where mid-century Scandinavian modernism meets the modern demands of climate adaptability, material circularity, radical conservation, and neighborhood density. During the first-ever Copenhagen Architecture Biennial, in 2025, the city transformed into a global platform for dialogue under the theme "Slow Down," exploring how architecture can respond to global pressures by rethinking the pace of change. And this year's 13th edition of the 3daysofdesign Festival will explore the theme of "Make This Moment Matter", encouraging the global design community to step away from digital noise and mass production to focus on the present.
At the time of writing, an article by Martyn Evans asked 'Is Architecture in Crisis?' In the same year, Reinier de Graaf published the book 'Architecture Against Architecture,' where he set out fourteen problems with the profession and discipline. The question of a crisis in architecture is a perennial one. Referring to architecture as a profession, it rears its head especially when economic downturns are expected or in full swing. Simultaneously, there are ongoing questions regarding the effectiveness of architecture at dealing with the pressing matters of the globe and society—housing, climate change, and human development. One venture that attempts to address these questions is MASS, established in Rwanda not long after the 2008 financial crisis. The clue is in the name, which stands for Model of Architecture Serving Society. MASS was created as a different way of practicing architecture.
On UNESCO's International Day of Light, celebrated annually on May 16, the Daylight Award announced its 2026 laureates. Established to support research into the scientific understanding of daylight and its significance for health, well-being, ecosystems, and architectural design, the award recognizes achievements in two categories: Daylight in Architecture and Daylight Research. This year, Japanese architects Momoyo Kaijima and Yoshiharu Tsukamoto of Atelier Bow-Wow were honored for demonstrating how daylight can shape shared spaces and everyday life, while marine biologists Brittany N. Zepernick, Steven W. Wilhelm, and R. Michael McKay of the United States and Canada were recognized for their research on aquatic microorganisms and their implications for planetary health and biodiversity.
Some cities grow through continuity, others construct themselves through moments of acceleration. Baku, in Azerbaijan, seems to operate somewhere in between. Its historic core, the Icherisheher, still holds a spatial logic that resists expansion: dense, enclosed, defined by proximity and repetition. But just beyond its walls, the city begins to shift. Scale increases, distances expand, and the relationship between buildings becomes less about continuity and more about visibility.
Over the past two decades, Baku has been the site of a deliberate effort to construct an image of itself. Oil wealth provided the means, but architecture became one of its primary tools. Projects such as the Heydar Aliyev Center by Zaha Hadid Architects or the Flame Towers are symbols of this transformation, their forms designed to circulate as much through media as through the city itself. They are precise, controlled, and highly resolved objects. But they also introduce a different urban logic, one that privileges singularity over continuity and positions architecture as an agent of representation.
Blur Building, Lake Neuchatel, Yverdon-les-Bains, Switzerland, 2002. Image Courtesy of Diller Scofidio + Renfro
Architecture is traditionally chronicled through the persistence of the solid. We define the discipline by the weight of the lintel, the mass of the pier, and the resistance of the wall. Even when lightness is invoked, it is usually understood as a subtractive act, the thinning of a section or the precarious reduction of a load. Yet there is a parallel history, less visible and harder to isolate, in which the primary material of construction is not what occupies space, but what moves through it.
To treat air as a medium is to move past the binary of the envelope. The boundary between the interior and the world ceases to be a line of absolute separation and becomes, instead, a site of filtration and pressure. We begin to see the building as a thermal valve, a series of gradients where moisture, velocity, and heat are not merely background "conditions" to be mitigated by mechanical systems, but are the very substances being shaped.
In Six Memos for the Next Millennium, Italo Calvino explores lightness from a literary perspective and argues, "Opposed to lightness is weight. Removing weight produces lightness; it is a value, not a defect." Drawing on Greek mythology, he reflects on one of Perseus's feats after severing the head of the terrible Gorgon Medusa without being turned to stone. Assisted by the gods Hades, Hermes, and Athena, Perseus flies with his winged sandals and uses a bronze shield as a mirror to reflect her image. Relying, like many architects, on what is lightest—the wind and the clouds—he also fixes his gaze on what is revealed through indirect vision: an image reflected in a mirror.
Historically, transparency has been naturalized as an inherent condition of modern architecture. With the shift from the heavy load-bearing wall to the lightweight glass envelope, glass was introduced into the discipline, blurring the boundaries between interior and exterior spaces. In connection with inflatable architecture, transparency is linked to lightness and impermanence, leaving temporary traces on the landscapes it inhabits. By using textiles or plastics as main materials and air as a structural system, the search for lightness in the built environment now recognizes more than a single atmosphere of application.
Ooooh, that's EpiQ! By Ricardo Orts Ulises. Image Courtesy of ArchDaily's editors on-site in Milano
Observed annually on April 22, International Mother Earth Day frames this week's architectural discourse through an urgent call to rethink the relationship between the built environment and natural systems, foregrounding themes such as urban rewilding, the restoration of aquatic ecosystems, and the integration of ancestral knowledge into contemporary design practices. On another note, the opening of Salone del Mobile.Milano 2026 and Milan Design Week 2026 seek to reinforce the global relevance of design as a platform for exchange and experimentation, activating the city of Milan through a network of exhibitions and installations that engage both industry and public audiences. Among the announcements of award-winning architectural projects this week, the United Nations' House of No Waste (HØW) Competition highlights emerging architectural responses to climate and resource challenges. The awarded projects demonstrate scalable strategies for reducing material waste and embodied carbon while promoting adaptable, socially responsive, and resource-conscious public infrastructure.
Using massive s plates, often several centimeters thick and weighing tons, Richard Serra's sculptures convey an almost improbable sense of lightness. This effect does not result from a reduction of mass, but from how that mass is organized: large curved surfaces tilt, narrow passages compress the body, and seemingly unstable elements create a constant sense of imbalance. Serra transforms weight into a dynamic spatial experience.
In architecture, lightness has occupied a central role at least since the modern period. While earlier traditions, such as Greek and Roman architecture, were closely associated with stability, and large churches with monumentality, the twentieth century introduced a decisive shift in how matter is handled, particularly through the separation of structure and enclosure.
On Sunday, April 19, 2026, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) opened its new David Geffen Galleries to the public. Designed by architect Peter Zumthor, the building offers an elevated exhibition space for the museum's permanent collection. All artworks are presented in a single-level open space, in a non-hierarchical layout of cultures, traditions, and eras, spanning 6,000 years of art history across approximately 155,000 objects. The space is flexible, accommodating diverse curatorial projects as well as visitors' individual paths. The project marks a new step in the institution's two-decade transformation into a global art museum and the most comprehensive in the western United States.
What do lightweight materials bring to public space with an ethical, ecological, and non-extractive design principle? Various textile textures offer a point of entry, being closer to the body than heavy conventional structural materials. Through its flexibility and responsiveness, it enables a form of soft enclosure rather than a fixed boundary in architectural space. Responding to minimal environmental stimuli, the fabric brings continuous movements into space. When layered or assembled, it produces gradations of density, depth, and enclosure, while recent innovative fabrication technologies extend the possibilities of its form and structural durability.
Semi-transparent materials further mediate the conditions of visual permeability and bodily experience of the space. By transmitting and filtering light, they blur clear separations between interior and exterior, solid and void, creating thresholds that are neither fully open nor fully enclosed, but constantly in negotiation. Reinterpreting structure in urban space through lightweight, translucency, and softness opens up alternative modes of spatial perception and bodily engagement.
Between June 23 and August 30, 1988, The Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York held an exhibition titled Deconstructivist Architecture, as part of a program "conceived to examine current developments in architecture." Curated by Philip Johnson and Mark Wigley, it focused on the contemporary work of seven international architects: Coop Himmelblau, Peter Eisenman, Frank Gehry, Rem Koolhaas, Daniel Libeskind, Bernard Tschumi, and a young Zaha M. Hadid. At 37 years old, her work was presented to the world as an example of "the emergence of a new sensibility in architecture." The material on display was not a model or a blueprint, but a painting, The Peak, submitted for an architectural competition in Hong Kong in 1983. From this starting point, her contribution to architecture deepened along the same lines recognized at the time of her inclusion in the exhibition: the development of a distinctive, mathematical, and, in her own words, "fluid" architectural language, and her emergence as a leading female figure in a field historically dominated by men.
Carbonero House (1998). Melipilla, Chile. Image Courtesy of Smiljan Radić
Chilean architect Smiljan Radić Clarke has developed a body of work that resists easy categorization. His buildings often seem both ancient and provisional, carrying a monumental presence while retaining an unexpected sense of fragility. Stone, concrete, timber, fabric, and fiberglass are combined in unexpected ways, producing architectures that hover between permanence and ephemerality. Rather than pursuing a stable formal language, the 2026 Pritzker laureate approaches architecture as an open field of experimentation, where material behavior and structural perception are constantly tested.
Buildings were always intended to solve a straightforward problem: shelter. Through form and material, they protected occupants from the weather and organized human activity. Modern architecture, along with evolving lifestyles, added new priorities — efficiency, density, structural innovation, and aesthetics. People now demand more from buildings. Occupants increasingly want environments that actively support how they live, work, and feel.
Wellness has become a central concern in modern times. Decades of research in environmental psychology and building science reveal that indoor conditions can profoundly affect human health and behavior. Lighting influences circadian rhythms and sleep patterns. Air quality impacts cognitive performance and respiratory health. Temperature and acoustics shape comfort and concentration.
