Montreal, the second largest city in Canada is home to a wide array of heritage residential architecture, most of it dating to the 19th and early 20th-century. These are particularly abundant in some of its central neighborhoods like the Plateau Mont-Royal. Interestingly, their preservation is not accidental; it is the result of decades of advocacy by influential figures who recognized the value of the city's built environment, such as Phyllis Lambert and Blanche Lemco Van Ginkel. Efforts like theirs were instrumental in landmark preservation battles that helped to ensure current municipal support. Today, the city has implemented a set of comprehensive heritage protection laws designed to safeguard the integrity of the city's historic neighborhoods.
Across geographies and generations, architects are rethinking the idea of home, balancing personal expression, contextual sensitivity, and material clarity. These contemporary residential proposals, submitted by the ArchDaily community, reveal how the house continues to evolve as both an architectural statement and an intimate landscape for living. From the sculptural and futuristic to the grounded and vernacular, they explore how built form balances between identity, environment, and lifestyle in an increasingly complex world.
Foster + Partners Gstaad House project in Switzerland. Render. Image Courtesy of Foster + Partners
Foster + Partners has received planning permission for a new timber residential building in Gstaad, Switzerland. Designed as a house in the Alpine resort town, the project combines residential use with exhibition, storage, and social spaces. According to the architects, it will be the first purpose-built facility in Gstaad to accommodate the specialised requirements of fine art, cars, fashion, and antique collections.
Lina Ghotmeh — Architecture recently revealed images of the AlUla Immersive Living project, a proposed dwelling envisioned to emerge from the desert landscape of Saudi Arabia. Its form is shaped by the site's light and wind, rooted in climate, and positioned between rock and dune. The design follows the concept of a shelter belonging as much to the desert as to its inhabitants, and behaving as a "living landscape." The structure is conceived with thick rammed-earth walls, contrasted by open platforms that frame the sky. It is presented as a statement of architecture intended "not to dominate but to host," providing refuge without severing connections, reflecting Lina Ghotmeh's position at the intersection of context, craft, and care.
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.
Patio houses embody one of the most enduring architectural typologies, encapsulating the duality of openness and seclusion while nurturing a profound connection with nature. While the term is also used in contemporary American real estate to describe low-maintenance, single-story dwellings on small lots, its classic architectural meaning refers to an introverted design organized around a private, central courtyard. It is this traditional form, the subject of this article, that traces its origins back thousands of years. Patio houses emerged independently in various regions, responding universally to fundamental human needs: privacy, climatic adaptability, and spatial coherence. Despite diverse geographic and cultural expressions, the core principles of introversion, controlled openness, and environmental sensitivity remain remarkably consistent throughout the evolution of this typology.
Sierra Blanca Estates, a real estate development firm, has officially announced plans to build a new residential neighborhood in the coastal city of Málaga, Spain. According to the developers, the proposal is intended to address the city's growing demand for housing in the capital of the Andalucía autonomous community, located along the Mediterranean Sea in the southern Iberian Peninsula. The new neighborhood is planned for the El Bulto area and would include a 21-storey building designed by Zaha Hadid Architects.
Fireplaces have profoundly shaped architectural design, influencing how spaces are organized, experienced, and perceived. More than merely functional elements, they represent symbols of power, community, comfort, and culture, tracing humanity's evolving relationship with the built environment. From the primitive hearths that characterized early human settlements to the sophisticated ecological designs of contemporary architecture, fireplaces have reflected broader cultural, social, and technological changes, serving as enduring focal points in the spatial narrative of architecture. Scholars have frequently explored the intimate relationship between architecture and fire. Luis Fernández-Galiano, in his seminal work "Fire and Memory: On Architecture and Energy" argues that architecture fundamentally mediates the relationship between humanity and energy. By understanding how these structures have shaped spaces, symbolized cultural values, and driven technological innovation, we gain deeper insight into architecture's complex interplay between form, function, and meaning.
Seeking to create a fluid dialogue between architecture and its surrounding landscape, the study of topography embodies an awareness and exploration of the use of materials, self-sufficient strategies, low-maintenance solutions, and landscape designs that integrate into the natural environment and minimize the environmental impact of projects. Beyond recording variations in elevation, sun orientation, prevailing winds, or drainage slopes of the terrain, several architects in Argentina demonstrate a strong interest in developing architectural solutions capable of adapting to natural geographies and restoring the bond between nature and the human being.
Collective living continues to be a central theme in contemporary housing discourse, one that extends beyond questions of density or typology to engage broader concerns of land use, social cohesion, and spatial identity. This selection of conceptual unbuilt projects, submitted by the ArchDaily community, explores the potentials of shared living environments, not only as functional housing solutions but as frameworks for interaction, environmental integration, and cultural continuity. Whether in urban or remote settings, they reflect a growing interest in rethinking how domestic space can support both individual privacy and communal life.
"Out of the Box" tower exterior render. Image Courtesy of MVRDV
MVRDV has released images of "Out of the Box", a 12,025 sqm residential tower in Tianmu, one of Taipei's northernmost neighborhoods. Designed for Win Sing Development Company, the project began in 2019 and was developed using a system of standardized elements digitally distributed based on criteria such as habitability, efficiency, and access to community services. These elements are expressed in the tower's irregular, gridded façade, which features a layered marble cladding.
A series of recently announced projects across Europe, Asia, the Middle East, and North America reflects an ongoing shift in architectural thinking toward approaches that integrate buildings with their landscapes, programs with public life, and design with long-term environmental goals. In Nantes, France, a healthcare campus redefines medical education through climate-conscious planning, while in San Antonio, Texas, a new arboretum transforms a former golf course into a research-driven public landscape. Residential towers are rising beside Bangkok's Lumphini Park, a new coastal community is underway in the UAE, and an expansion to the Nelson-Atkins Museum in Kansas City reconsiders how cultural institutions connect with their surroundings. Together, these announcements point to a growing interest in projects that embed architecture within broader ecological and civic systems, proposing new models of spatial integration, accessibility, and resilience.
At a time when architectural practice is increasingly tied to climate and context, the boundary between the built and the natural has become a critical site of experimentation. This month's unbuilt selection gathers eight conceptual projects that work with the edges of landscape. In Ramia by João Teles Atelier, the architecture draws directly from the metaphor of a seed breaking through soil, using wood, concrete, and water to create a sensorial route through Tulum's ecology. Meanwhile, Mobius Pier by X Atelier loops gently over the river edge, becoming both infrastructure and observation point. Similarly, Il mare degli Umbri approaches the threshold differently, restoring the historic shoreline of Lake Trasimeno and reintroducing local wetland ecologies. Each project in this collection reflects a unique position: some treat the edge as a spatial experience, others as a regulatory line, and others still as a point of cultural or ecological return.
In today’s dense, vertical cities, terraces—often overlooked as mere technical rooftops—are emerging as key spaces for reconnecting with nature, expanding residential functions, and offering moments of collective relief. Particularly in single-family homes located in compact urban areas, these elevated surfaces represent valuable opportunities to increase usable living space without occupying more land. By lifting daily life above street level, terraces open new ways of inhabiting the city, enabling a range of uses from leisure and contemplation to food production and social gathering. In contexts marked by limited green space and strained infrastructure, they hold the potential to generate what landscape architect Catherine Mosbach calls "additional layers of urbanity." Whether imagined as hanging gardens, gathering spots, edible landscapes, or wellness zones, terraces challenge the idea that the city ends at the top floor—inviting us to see the roof as a new kind of ground.
At the turn of the millennium, the world was gripped by the looming threat of the Y2K bug, a potential failure of computerized systems that could disrupt everything from banking to aviation. As midnight approached on December 31, 1999, people withdrew their savings, major corporations issued warnings, and governments scrambled to prevent public hysteria. But as the sun rose on January 1, 2000, the feared bug had no material impact, and the crisis faded as quickly as it had emerged. However, this era left its mark in unexpected places — particularly in architecture. Amid the anxiety surrounding digital technology, one of the most iconic concert halls of our time, Casa da Música in Porto, was born. Designed by OMA (Office for Metropolitan Architecture), its origins can be traced to a much smaller project: the Y2K House. What began as an exploration of private domesticity during the digital scare evolved into a grand public structure — an architectural transition from home to a performance hall.
Residential houses, villas, and retreats are increasingly being designed as places of pause—spaces where architecture supports rest, reflection, and stronger connections to nature. Rather than focusing solely on urban living or compact efficiency, these homes are set in remote, scenic, or rural locations, where the landscape becomes an essential part of daily life. Through careful siting, use of natural materials, and open layouts, they offer an elevated standard of living that is both intentional and grounded in place.
Symbiosis, a Prototype for Living and Working. Image Courtesy of contexo
The future of urban life is increasingly being imagined as collective, layered, and adaptable. As cities grow denser and the boundaries between work, home, and leisure blur, architects are rethinking the traditional notion of residential living, shifting from isolated units to integrated, community-driven environments. This collection of unbuilt projects, submitted by the ArchDaily community, reflects this shift: a global exploration into how design can shape more resilient, inclusive, and connected ways of living.
