Dornbracht's Coya series designed by Sieger Design. Image Courtesy of Dornbracht
When is a form still circular or rectangular? In twentieth-century modernism, this question was largely absent. Architecture was built on clarity, reduction, and formal purity. Influenced by architects such as Le Corbusier and Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, modernist design established a visual order based on rational geometry, industrial materials, and the rejection of ornament. Circle and square, function and expression, were kept strictly apart—a logic that dictated the rigid, modular layouts of traditional bathrooms for decades.
Architecture has never been confined to the act of building. It constantly negotiates between material practice and intellectual reflection, yet throughout the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, many architects felt that the built project alone was insufficient to address the full range of questions facing the discipline. Economic pressures, political contexts, and programmatic demands often narrowed the scope of practice.
Exhibitions and curatorial platforms, by contrast, created spaces of experimentation and critique, opening arenas where architecture could interrogate itself, where its past could be reinterpreted, its present challenged, and its future projected. In this tension, the figure of the architect-curator emerged, treating curating itself as a form of design — not of walls or facades, but of discourse, narratives, and frameworks of meaning.
Cultural diplomacy refers to the use of cultural expression and creative exchange to foster understanding and build relationships between nations. In this context, architecture has long played a distinctive role. Beyond its functional and aesthetic dimensions, it serves as a medium of communication, a language through which countries express identity, values, and ambition on the global stage.
Architecture operates as a form of soft power — persuasive rather than coercive — enabling nations to project influence through material presence. From modernist embassies in the post-war era to monumental pavilions at world expositions, governments and institutions have recognized the built environment's potential to shape perception. By commissioning prominent architects and adopting specific design languages, countries have used architecture to signal modernity, tradition, innovation, or stability.
In the Dutch city of Hilversum, a municipal building completed in 1931 redefined the very idea of what a town hall could be. More than a house for local administration, the Hilversum Town Hall became the architectural expression of a community in transformation. With its tower rising above reflective ponds, its brick masses composed around courtyards, and its carefully detailed interiors, the building asserted that civic architecture could unite function with symbolism, efficiency with ceremony.
The architect behind this vision, Willem Marinus Dudok, was not only responsible for individual buildings but for the broader shaping of Hilversum itself. As a city architect and planner, he designed schools, housing districts, and parks, developing a language that fused Dutch craftsmanship with Modernist clarity. The town hall represented the culmination of this trajectory: a civic centerpiece where urban ambition, material refinement, and human scale converged in a single, coherent form.
"Dance, dance… otherwise we are lost." This oft-cited phrase by Pina Bausch encapsulates not only the urgency of movement, but its capacity to reveal space itself. In her choreographies, space is never a neutral backdrop, it becomes a partner, an obstacle, a memory. Floors tilt, chairs accumulate, walls oppress or liberate. These are architectural conditions, staged and contested through the body. What Bausch exposes — and what architecture often forgets — is that space is not simply built, it is performed. Her work invites architects to think not only in terms of materials and forms, but of gestures, relations, and rhythms. It suggests that architecture, like dance, is ultimately about how we inhabit, structure, and emotionally charge the spaces we move through.
Historically, architecture and dance have operated in parallel, shaping human experience through the body's orientation in space and time. From the choreographed rituals of classical temples to the axial logics of Baroque palaces, built space has always implied movement. The Bauhaus took this further, as Oskar Schlemmer's Triadic Ballet visualized space as a geometric extension of the body. This was not scenery, but spatial thinking made kinetic. In the 20th century, choreographers like William Forsythe and Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker integrated architectural constraints into their scores, while architects such as Steven Holl, Diller Scofidio + Renfro, and Toyo Ito designed buildings that unfold as spatial sequences, inviting movement, drift, and delay.
The gas station is an architectural typology that has undergone significant transformations since its inception. Initially, these structures were simple roadside refueling points designed for functionality rather than aesthetics. As automobile culture expanded, gas stations evolved to accommodate new technologies, shifting urban landscapes and changing consumer behaviors. Over time, they became more than just utilitarian stops — they developed into service hubs, integrating restaurants, motels, and leisure spaces, responding to contemporary transportation increasing demands.
By the late 20th century, however, the widespread standardization of gas stations led them to be perceived as "non-places", a concept defined by anthropologist Marc Augé to describe transient spaces that lack social or cultural significance. With uniform designs and a focus on efficiency, gas stations became interchangeable, reinforcing their role as purely functional infrastructure rather than meaningful architectural interventions. This standardization also departed from the era when fuel stations served as recognizable landmarks, contributing to a homogenized landscape devoid of local identity.
Modernism, a movement that sought to break away from traditional forms and embrace the future, laid the groundwork for many technological and digital advancements in contemporary architecture. As the Industrial Revolution brought about mass production, new materials, and technological innovation, architects like Le Corbusier, Walter Gropius, and Mies van der Rohe championed the ethos of "form follows function" and a rational approach to design. Their principles resonate in the digital age, where computational design and high-tech materials redefine form and construction.
The 20th century's modernist ideals — efficiency, simplicity, and functionality — created a foundation for architects to experiment with structural clarity and material honesty. High-tech architecture, which emerged in the late 20th century, evolved from these principles, merging modernism's clean lines with advanced engineering and technology. This paved the way for parametricism and algorithm-driven design processes, revolutionizing architecture and enabling complex forms previously thought impossible.
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.
For centuries, models have been central to architectural design, providing architects with a tangible way to explore ideas, test concepts, and communicate their vision. From the Renaissance to Modernism, models have been instrumental in the construction and reflection processes, offering insights into form, proportion, and spatial relationships. However, in today's digital age, where 3D modelsand Virtual Reality(VR) have become powerful and efficient tools, the question arises: Are physical models still relevant in contemporary architecture?
The rights to reconstructKisho Kurokawa's iconic Nakagin Capsule Tower are currently sold on one of the largest NFT sites. While the tower’s demolition has begun earlier this year, the auction sells the right to rebuild the structure, in both the metaverse and in real space. The idea of recreating the Metabolic building in a virtual space seems natural. It could allow a larger community to explore an iconic piece of architecture and encourage them to experiment with it, an initiative in line with Metabolist ideals. On the other hand, the idea of reconstructing a demolished historical building in the physical world raises a different set of conflicting emotions. Architectural replicas are not the norm, but their existence raises questions regarding the identity and authenticity of works of architecture.
As one of the host cities of the 2026 FIFA World Cup, Toronto is preparing to welcome fans from across the globe. The Canadian city, the fourth largest in North America, has become a cosmopolitan center with its renowned business district and cultural venues/ events that come alive during the summer and early fall nights. Toronto offers a beautifully diverse urban setting, with shimmering high-rises and smaller brick houses, intertwining residential and vibrant commercial areas, public parks, and even beaches. All become part of the city's striking skyline, crowned by the iconic CN Tower.
Toronto's ongoing sprawl and constant urban development are evident as new projects spread through the city, weaving themselves into existing buildings, from 19th-century landmarks such as the Gooderham Building to major contemporary works like the Aga Khan Museum. These new constructions include increasing adaptive reuse and retrofitted projects throughout the city as more efforts and incentives are provided to reduce carbon emissions.
Art has always been a means for people to connect with space, and art movements have served as a platform for exploring new relationships with architecture. By incorporating art into buildings and interior spaces, they have been transformed, resulting in a fusion that creates beautiful, inspiring, and spiritually uplifting environments. Throughout history, various art movements, such as the Renaissance in the 17th century, Baroque in the 18th century, and Art Nouveau, Art Déco, and Bauhaus in the early 20th century, have had a significant impact on architecture. Architects drew inspiration from the ideals, concepts, stylistic approaches, and techniques of these movements, using them to create large-scale habitable structures. As the home is a fundamental expression of an architectural movement and the simplest canvas to exhibit the artistic ethos of any particular era, studying the interior spaces of houses provides a detailed picture of art's influence on spatial organization, furniture design, product patterns, and user interaction.
Richard Kelly illuminated some of the twentieth century’s most iconic buildings: the Glass House, Seagram Building and Kimbell Art Museum, to name a few. His design strategy was surprisingly simple but extremely successful.
Lighting for architecture has been and still often is dominated by an engineering viewpoint, resigned to determining sufficient illuminance levels for a safe and efficient working environment. With a background in stage lighting, Kelly introduced a scenographic perspective for architectural lighting. His point of view might look self-evident to today’s architectural community, but it was revolutionary for his time and has strongly influenced modern architecture.
In 1929, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe and Lilly Reich design the German National Pavilion for the 1929 Barcelona International Exhibition. The official reception for the exhibition was held there, presided over by King Alfonso XIII and the German authorities. From then on, the story is well known to everyone. A symbolic work of the Modern Movement, the Pavilion has been extensively studied and interpreted, and has inspired the work of several generations of architects.
The Second Studio (formerly The Midnight Charette) is an explicit podcast about design, architecture, and the everyday. Hosted by Architects David Lee and Marina Bourderonnet, it features different creative professionals in unscripted conversations that allow for thoughtful takes and personal discussions.
A variety of subjects are covered with honesty and humor: some episodes are interviews, while others are tips for fellow designers, reviews of buildings and other projects, or casual explorations of everyday life and design. The Second Studio is also available on iTunes, Spotify, and YouTube.
This week David and Marina are joined by Phyllis Lambert, an architect, the Planning Director of the Seagram Headquarters, and the Founding Director Emeritus of the Canadian Centre for Architecture in Montréal.
The Resor House was a hugely pivotal project for Mies van der Rohe, in both his life, and his career. It was his first commission in the United States and prior to landing in Chicago, he lived for two months on the site of the house near Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Its design was unique for Mies in its rural landscape setting and material choices, mainly its wood-clad exterior and interior. While it was never constructed due to cost overruns, the design documents and working models were collected by MoMA in NY, where the client, Helen Resor was on the Board of Directors. This video traces a digital reconstruction of the house — using those archival documents — to serve as the subject of an in-depth tour and analysis. What sorts of discoveries are to be found inside this unbuilt masterpiece?
Chicago’s most prolific architect, Helmut Jahn has passed away on Saturday afternoon in a cycling accident. He was struck by two vehicles while riding his bicycle in Campton Hills, in the Chicago suburbs. The German-American designer is best known for his postmodern Thompson Center, currently under threat of demolition and United Airlines Terminal 1 at Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport.
Ludwig Mies van der Rohe (27 March 1886 – 17 August 1969) is one of the most influential architects of the 20th century, known for his role in the development of the most enduring architectural style of the era: modernism. Born in Aachen, Germany, Mies' career began in the influential studio of Peter Behrens, where Mies worked alongside two other titans of modernism, Walter Gropius and Le Corbusier. For almost a century, Mies' minimalist style has proved very popular; his famous aphorism "less is more" is still widely used, even by those who are unaware of its origins.
