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Architecture 101: What is Maximalism in Architecture?

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Maximalism in architecture embraces expressive forms, ornamentation, and a rich diversity of materials, colors, and textures. In this approach, excess is perceived as a positive quality in contrast to minimalism‘s “less is more” philosophy that prioritizes simplicity and clean lines. While minimalism prioritizes functionality, clean lines, and restrained ornamentation, maximalism thrives on visual richness, eclectic compositions, extravagant decoration, and unconventional material combinations.

At its core, maximalism follows a “more is more” philosophy, rejecting the idea that simplicity is a synonym for sophistication. This design approach can manifest through highly decorated façades and bold, theatrical interiors filled with art, ornate furniture, and intricate details. Maximalism is a popular style in contemporary architecture, specifically in the digital age, when AI-driven design and parametric tools allow for intricate, complex structures.


Characteristics of Maximalism in Architecture

LIÒN

LIÒN restaurant by COLLIDANIELARCHITETTO. Rome, Italy. | Photo by Matteo Piazza

What are the key elements of maximalist interiors and façades?

Maximalist interiors and façades embrace bold expression, rich ornamentation, and layered complexity. Maximalist interiors feature vibrant colors, layered textures, and intricate patterns, creating visually bold and colorful interiors. Eclectic furnishings, statement lighting, ornate decor, and art enhance depth and personality. Luxurious and varied materials create depth and sensory richness. Textures add contrast, while vibrant, saturated colors amplify visual impact. Maximalist façades prioritize bold material contrasts and dramatic forms. Sculptural elements, expressive ornamentation, and amplified proportions create striking building envelopes. These designs often incorporate historical influences that blend with contemporary aesthetics.

How do materiality, color, and ornamentation influence maximalist design?

Materiality, color, and decoration are essential to maximalist design, shaping its bold yet curated aesthetic. Opulent materials like velvet, marble, intricate craftsmanship, and gold accents produce a sense of grandeur, often drawing inspiration from historical styles like Baroque or Rococo. Maximalism is not afraid of too much; rather, it pushes boundaries with daring combinations that enhance the dynamic and expressive nature of an interior or building envelope. Elaborate moldings, intricate tilework, decorative motifs, and sculptural elements add layers of detail for a unique look.


History of Maximalism

Catherine’s Palace

Catherine’s Palace in Pushkin, Russia. | Photo by Buster&Bubby via Flickr.

How did the Baroque and Rococo periods influence maximalism?

The Baroque and Rococo periods significantly influenced maximalism by establishing a design language characterized by theatricality and ornamentation. Baroque architecture emphasized dramatic spatial compositions, bold contrasts, and intricate detailing, using rich materials, gilded surfaces and elaborate frescoes to evoke a sense of power and movement. Rococo emerged as a lighter, more playful evolution of Baroque. It introduced asymmetry, pastel colors and delicate ornamentation, favoring intricate stucco work, curved forms and whimsical motifs. Both styles inspired maximalism’s embrace of opulence, layered textures and an expressive aesthetic.

Did postmodernism bring about the resurgence of maximalism?

Postmodernism played a key role in the resurgence of maximalism by rejecting the strict minimalism and functionalist principles of modernism. Postmodern architecture, which emerged in the late 20th century, embraced eclecticism, bold ornamentation and historical references, often mixing styles, colors and materials in playful and unconventional ways. Architects like Michael Graves, Robert Venturi and Ricardo Bofill are significant figures of the postmodernist movement. They reintroduced decorative elements, symbolism and a sense of irony, aligning with maximalism’s celebration of complexity and visual richness. This revival of expressive design paved the way for contemporary maximalism, which continues to embrace layered aesthetics, diverse influences, and an unrestrained approach to form and materiality.


Case Studies and Example of Maximalist Buildings

Bankers Hall Towers

Bankers Hall Towers by Dialog (formerly Cohos Evamy). Calgary, Alberta, Canada. | Photo by Bernard Spragg via Wikimedia Commons.

Which designers and architects are known for maximalist buildings?

  • David Rockwell: Known for theatrical and richly detailed interiors, particularly in hospitality design.
  • Marcel Wanders: His work, particularly with Moooi, blends luxury with theatrical design, making him a key figure in the movement.
  • Studio Job: An interior design studio known for its creative and vibrant spaces that merge art, design, and maximalist themes.
  • India Mahdavi: Famous for creating immersive, colorful, and highly ornamental interiors.

Additionally, works by architects Zaha Hadid, Jean Nouvel, and Frank Gehry exhibit some maximalist qualities, especially through dynamic forms, expressive materiality, and bold spatial compositions. However, their unique architectural approaches don’t strictly adhere to the principles of maximalism.

Waldspirale, designed by Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser, Darmstadt, Hessen, Germany

Waldspirale by Austrian artist Friedensreich Hundertwasser, Darmstadt, Hessen, Germany. | Photo by Kiefer via Flickr

What are famous examples of maximalist buildings?

Maximalism is more commonly expressed in interior design, while examples of it in architecture are rare. When we think of maximalism, we envision an explosion of color, texture and abundant ornamentation. However, contemporary architecture often leans toward other stylistic approaches, such as deconstructivism or parametric design, emphasizing complexity and fluidity rather than a bold expression of decoration and color. While few buildings strictly adhere to maximalist principles, certain architectural works exhibit maximalist qualities, such as dynamic forms, expressive materiality, and highly intricate detailing. With this in mind, several contemporary buildings stand out for their bold forms and expressive materiality, creating a visual richness that aligns with maximalist aesthetics.


The Future of Maximalism

Why is maximalism making a comeback in design today?

Maximalism is making a comeback in design today at various levels. It is a loud response to years of minimalism and a growing desire for visual richness. Material technology and digital fabrication advances enable designers to push boundaries with complex compositions and detailing. Maximalism also resonates with sustainability, often embracing vintage and repurposed furniture and materials. Additionally, bold and expressive interiors appear to align with the era of digital culture and social media.

How does maximalism intersect with digital fabrication and AI-driven design?

Maximalism intersects with digital fabrication and AI-driven design by utilizing advanced technologies to create complex forms that are difficult or even impossible to achieve using traditional methods. For instance, 3D printing and CNC machining allow for elaborate textures and complex geometries, highlighting maximalism’s focus on visual and material richness. AI design tools facilitate rapid iteration and data-informed aesthetics, increasing customization possibilities.

Nanjing Vertical Forest

Nanjing Vertical Forest by Stefano Boeri Architetti. Nanjing, China. Visualization by Stefano Boeri Architetti.

Can sustainability and maximalism coexist in architecture?

Sustainability and maximalism can coexist in architecture, promoting environmental responsibility while highlighting maximalism’s opulence. However, it requires a thoughtful approach. Architects and designers can implement sustainable features to minimize waste and optimize energy use while seeking expressive aesthetics, including material richness and bold ornamentation. For instance, biophilic design elements, such as green walls, can enhance maximalist spaces without excessive resource consumption. Additionally, AI-driven optimization and parametric design allow for material efficiency and structural performance without compromising maximalism’s characteristic vibrancy.

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Top image: Motta Milano 1928 by COLLIDANIELARCHITETTO, Italy 

The post Architecture 101: What is Maximalism in Architecture? appeared first on Journal.

Architecture, Unplugged: Why Forward-Thinking Architects Are Reclaiming the Art of Building by Hand

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In Tokyo, construction is measured in weeks, not years. It’s a place where efficiency is often valued above artistry. It’s a place where Keisuke Oka’s Arimaston Building really shouldn’t exist.

A structure built entirely by hand over two decades, with no formal plans, no digital modeling and certainly no construction teams working to a deadline, the Arimaston Building is the product of one man’s patience, skill and refusal to conform to a system that treats architecture as an industrial process rather than the art of creation.

The walls are notoriously irregular and the concrete surfaces are textured with imprints from makeshift molds. Things like food trays, scrap metal and whatever was available at the time were used. It is a building that quite literally tells the story of its own making. Unlike the typical Tokyo towers, all sharp angles and glass, the Arimaston Building is a record of human decision-making at every stage.

Yet, instead of being seen as an argument for the enduring intelligence of craft, Oka’s project is treated as an eccentricity, an exception rather than a viable approach to building. It is part of a wider issue that has grown within architecture: the systematic replacement of craft, material knowledge and human adaptability with automation, prefabrication and algorithmic efficiency. Architecture has gradually become a profession that has distanced itself from the act of making and, in doing so, has lost something fundamental — knowledge.

Handcraft is not a novelty. It is a way of building that has been refined over millennia, guided by material intelligence, regional conditions and cultural heritage. To treat it as obsolete is to ignore the very basis of architectural and human evolution. Unfortunately, many architects assume that just because something can be mechanized, it should be.

At Sacsayhuamán in Peru, Inca stonemasons created a fortress of stone blocks, each weighing several tons and precisely fitted without mortar. These structures, built over 500 years ago, have withstood centuries of earthquakes that would have flattened modern buildings. Each stone was shaped one at a time to fit perfectly with the previous one to create a structure without weak points, enabling it to absorb seismic forces with ease.

The Great Mosque of Djenné in Mali, first built in the 13th century, isn’t the same building as it was when it was first erected. Like a living system, each year, the local community gathers to apply fresh layers of mud plaster, renewing the structure that has eroded due to flooding or weather conditions. The result is an architecture that is the opposite of disposable, a building designed to last indefinitely, provided its users remain engaged with its care.

Compare those examples to the standard lifespan of contemporary buildings. Many are engineered for obsolescence. The industrialization of architecture was sold as a step forward, but much of the real gain was not for architects or buildings. It was for developers and manufacturers. The faster a building can be constructed, the sooner it can be sold or leased. The less skilled labor is required, the cheaper the project is overall. The more standardized the materials, the easier they are to replace rather than repair.

This shift has had consequences for our built world. Prefabrication and digital workflows have distanced architects from the very materials they specify. Few will have worked with the stone, timber, or concrete they design with. Fewer still will have a working knowledge of the skills required to shape them.

A stonemason working with limestone understands how to read the grain of the rock, how it will fracture, how it will weather over time. Carpenters trained in Sashimono learn to build timber structures without nails or adhesives, instead using precise interlocking joints that can be undone. These structural solutions, refined over centuries, make buildings more durable, movable and repairable.

There is an argument that modern digital modeling tools now allow architects to analyze materials in ways that were previously impossible. AI can optimize timber cuts to minimize waste, robotic arms can carve stone with sub-millimeter precision, and parametric modeling can predict structural stress with near-perfect accuracy. But analysis is not intuition. A craftsman working directly with materials develops an embodied knowledge of their behavior: how they flex, resist, expand, and decay.

It is not that machine-built architecture is bad — it’s just that it has become the default, while anything requiring human craftsmanship is treated as a luxury. It’s expensive, slow, and very often looked at as impossible.

Yet sometimes, like the Arimaston Building, exceptions can prove that handbuilt can be just as effective and the alternative. Limestone Gallery in Xiadi Village, China, is suspended on a clifftop of 100 meters above a river. A precarious site that is difficult to reach and complicated to work with. It required a large portion of the construction work to be done manually by local laborers. Adjusting and adapting the process as the site was developed. The gallery now fits perfectly in its location.

Sail House by David Hertz Architects, Studio of Environmental Architecture, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines | Photo by Kevin Scott Photography

Or in Bequia, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, where Sail House combines modern design strategy with traditional hand-building methods. Designed by David Hertz Architects, the nautical-inspired buildings took into consideration the difficulty of construction in the Caribbean with its limited resources. It was decided that the buildings should be prefabricated in Indonesia and then shipped to the site. On arrival, the buildings were assembled by hand in just two months. One of the main benefits of this type of construction is that these structures can be disassembled just as they were assembled, and individual sections can be repaired or replaced as they wear.

If architecture is to retain its material intelligence, its authorship, and its connection to place, it should not fully surrender to mechanization. These projects show that hand-building is far from an obsolete tradition and when combined with modern techniques, it is a choice that remains entirely viable for architects. The problem has never been technology itself and handcraft should not entirely reject innovation. What it should reject is the idea that efficiency is the only measure of value. That speed matters more than longevity. That cheapness is an acceptable substitute for quality.

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Form, Function and Federalism: The Next Big Fight Over Civic Architecture

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In the late 1700s, the Treasury Department of a newborn United States was tasked with managing all construction appointments made to answer the urgent need for government buildings to support a freshly minted republic. Crucially, local officials were responsible for overseeing the design and physical development of these institutions. Regional and vernacular architecture was a natural outcome.

Nevertheless, statements needed to be made, and this meant in many cases ancient historical aesthetics were reappropriated in a bid to display the strength of sovereignty, wealth and power, in Washington D.C., and many state capitals. Then, in 1803, one Benjamin Henry Latrobe — now considered the “Father of American Architecture,” became Surveyor of Public Buildings, first focusing on extending the Capitol building by adding a south wing, before other notable landmarks, like the President’s House and Navy Yard, fell under his command.

Resigning in 1817, three years before he died in New Orleans, where he had earlier master-planned the city’s first customs house, by the end of his career Latrobe had created some of the Capitol’s most iconic spaces. The Old Senate Chamber, Old Supreme Court, National Statuary Hall (then Hall of the House), and Court Chamber were all defined by his predisposition of neoclassical. The rooms, and his other projects, set into stone — literally — a tone that has remained the archetype of U.S. federal buildings.

More than 100 years later, New York architects Walter Wilder and Harry White developed the federal estate in Olympia, Washington State capital. Among other institutions, the Washington State Legislative Building is a particularly compelling reference point that shows how grand antiquity was still called upon for government locations a century on — even in places geographically removed from America’s most dominant economic and political centers.

Washington State Legislative Building by Walter Wilder and Harry White; rehabilitated and renovated in 2004 by Einhorn Yaffee Prescott, Olympia, Washington

The zeitgeist may be even more pronounced to those outside the country itself. Regular appearances in TV and movie exports mean people across the world have seen the aesthetic, even if those inside the States today may rarely interact with, or pass by, federal buildings of the imposing Greco-Roman-esque school of colonnades and domes. Modernism, as ever, has a lot to answer for.

The single most significant movement in culture, art and architecture of the 20th century, at best the language allowed for faster project completion and tended to functionality first. At worst, it transformed settlements into homogenous concrete, glass and steel wastelands where the best way to distinguish a structure involves thinking about what kind of cube, cylinder, or oblong you’re looking at.

Modernity’s home, Chicago, catalyzed the rush for steel-framed edifices. But it’s arguably in the reconstruction of post-World War II Europe that many of criticisms of modernism ring most true. While the infant U.S. needed administrative buildings after winning independence, following the devastation of history’s bloodiest conflict, the Old World — and in particular its Eastern nations — just needed buildings, period. Hence conformity in everything from social housing to commercial blocks and council offices, from Poland to the UK. A comparison made more profound still when you consider that for 50 years or so one stood behind the Iron Curtain, the other as a ‘free’ Western democracy.

It’s true, there were variations and experimentations. Rotterdam, in the Netherlands, was almost entirely leveled by fighting, and now has myriad examples of modern architectural trials. Piet Boom’s striking Kubuswoningen, or Cube Houses, might be the best known. But another Dutch architectural titan, Aldo van Eyck, argued a shift in aesthetic and rationale in contemporary peace time has been at the expense of millions forced to live in visually uninspiring places. In reality, the truth is somewhere between the two — to say all modern architecture is garbage is garbage. Or not. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Not all buildings pre-20th century buildings were good, or fit for inhabitation in the first place.

It’s with all this in mind, and a great deal more, that 47th U.S. President Donald Trump’s January 20th Executive Order for Promoting Beautiful Federal Civic Architecture should raise eyebrows, if not alarm. Already, the American Institute of Architects has vowed to push back on demands for all new government buildings to be designed in line with traditional aesthetics of their setting. That means being “visually identifiable as civic buildings” and showing respect to classical heritage and the need to “beautify public spaces.” Who wouldn’t want that?

Architizer’s database contains few projects that would adhere to the remit if breaking ground today. The Ronald Reagan Building and International Trade Center, might be one. Sat on Pennsylvania Avenue, in the heart of the capital, it’s the second largest federal building ever completed after the Pentagon.

Although short of opportunities for external landscaping and greening, it is in keeping with more classical structures in the city, and modern — finished in 1998. Compare this with the J. Edgar Hoover Building, on the same street, and there’s a clear winner in terms of timelessness, longevity and eye candy.

There is, of course, a frequent disconnect between wants and needs (or, more so, wants and abilities). And here’s where the instructions begin to fall apart. First and foremost, the new administration has positioned itself as committed to cost savings. By reverting to architectural styles of post-independence and 19th Century U.S. central and local government, that won’t be easy. Projects didn’t just take longer because they relied on rudimentary technologies. They did so because of the materials used and the processes they need to ‘become a building.’

Slow construction usually means higher prices — that’s a given. But this is also about impact. There may be pretty much zero interest in things like net zero, biodiversity, and the environment among White House staff and residents today. But this doesn’t take away from the fact that if last month’s order is enforced it could be catastrophic in sustainability terms.

Modular, prefabricated, and passive are just a few examples of modern architecture and construction approaches that would be much harder to apply to ‘classical’ design. Furthermore, heritage design rarely lends itself to the incorporation of high tech, low impact materials with distinctly modern finishes. There would be limitations in what was deemed suitable, often at the expense of efficiency.

There are probably bigger fish to fry, though. Trump’s first term saw a similar order passed down and then quickly forgotten. The big difference is this time he’s given the nod at the beginning of his presidency, rather than the end. But regardless of what it means in practice, truths are hard to ignore — supply chains are expected to become strained as tariffs kick in, and immigration clampdowns are likely to decimate the construction sector’s workforce.

All projects, public and private, will suffer if that happens due to the interconnected nature of industrial sectors. And, although far-fetched, the idea of full government deconstruction is actually being discussed, either as a serious goal at the more extreme end of the right, or a glaring concern for moderates, centrists, and the left. Now let’s say for a second that happens, remind us again: who exactly are these federal buildings be built for?

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Market Makeovers: How Barcelona’s Public Food Markets Are Evolving With the City

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Traditional food markets, with their bustling stalls, have long been the heart of urban life worldwide. Barcelona’s food markets are no exception, being much more than places to buy fresh food; they are vibrant venues that reflect the city’s social and cultural identity. The Catalan expression “Anar a comprar a la plaça” translates to “going to the main square to buy groceries.” This expression harkens back to a time when farmers set up their temporary stalls to sell fresh goods, and neighbors met to shop and catch up on their lives. Over time, these open-air markets became more organized, leading to the construction of the market structures we know today.

Barcelona’s traditional markets are celebrated for their distinctive cast iron designs, a construction technique that emerged during industrialization and a renewed focus on urban planning and city hygiene. It presented advantages for public buildings, including structural strength and durability suitable for heavy use, and provided a safe, fire-resistant environment for large crowds. Despite the evolution, moving the markets from an outdoors to an indoor setting, the expression “anar a comprar a la plaça” remained popular, carrying cultural and historical significance.

Today, food markets across the city are undergoing extensive restoration and upgrading work. Their cultural relevance has led the city to preserve them as historic landmarks and integrate them as key features of the urban fabric, where commercial activity merges with street life. The restoration efforts often focus on improving the public spaces surrounding the markets to enhance social activity. These markets serve as microcosms that embody the spirit of their neighborhoods.


The Enduring Legacy of Barcelona Food Markets

Mercat Galvany

Mercat Galvany. Barcelona, Spain. | Photo by Joe Shlabotnik via Flickr.

Barcelona’s traditional food markets are architectural and urban landmarks that combine historic heritage with modern functionality. Barcelona officially has 39 food markets under the municipal banner, all of which are essential venues for fresh produce, culinary traditions and community interaction.

While some contemporary market structures were constructed to meet the evolving needs of the city’s residents and visitors, most of them were built in the 19th and early 20th centuries. These early markets often showcase striking iron-and-glass structures like the Mercat de Sant Antoni and Mercat de la Boqueria; others boast intricate brickwork, like the Mercat del Clot, characteristic of Catalan Modernism. They are remarkable architectural marvels that enhance the shopping experience, blending history and contemporary city life.


The Evolving Role of Markets as Community Hubs

Barceloneta Market and Public Space

Barceloneta Market and Public Space by Mias Architects. Barcelona, Spain | Photo by Adrià Goula.

Barcelona markets are vibrant neighborhood venues, strategically distributed across the city. They are integrated into the urban fabric, often located in central squares or along main streets, acting as focal points for community life.

Renovation efforts have preserved their architectural heritage and upgraded them with new technologies and improved logistics. The market model, which traditionally served solely for the commerce of fresh goods, has evolved to incorporate mixed-use spaces that complement food stalls, including restaurants, cafes, cultural venues and small shops. This adaptability ensures their continued relevance in Barcelona’s dynamic urban landscape.

The new market model improves the integration of the structures into the urban fabric, making the area around the markets less congested and improving accessibility. With multiple entry points that make the structures more inviting, these markets merge market and street activities. Generous open spaces around the markets facilitate pedestrian traffic and social engagement, featuring sitting areas and playgrounds that encourage community interaction. A good example of this integration is the Mercat de la Barceloneta, where a modern and emblematic design transforms a densely populated area into a vibrant and spacious gathering space.

Located in the Barceloneta neighborhood, known for its narrow streets and compact apartments, the new market and adjacent square are a breath of fresh air. While the neighborhood is by the sea, its urban fabric offers limited open space. The market’s renovation is conceived as an extension of the neighborhood, reflecting its lively spirit. A variety of food stalls, shops, halls, and restaurants foster commercial activity and social interaction. The concept of the market as an extension of the neighborhood is also expressed by its undulating canopies that extend toward the square. These canopies provide sheltered open spaces and contribute to a more inviting and accessible transition between indoors and outdoors.


Redefining  Identity and Cultural Landmark: Mercat de Santa Caterina

Santa Caterina Market

Santa Caterina Market by Miralles Tagliabue EMBT, Barcelona, Spain | Photo by Alex Gaultier

These renovations have strengthened the commercial activity of food markets and enhanced their social appeal and unique identity. By capitalizing on the aesthetic appeal and cultural value of the cast-iron structures and brick buildings, these renovations preserve the city’s architectural heritage while improving functionality to meet the needs of contemporary users.

The Mercat de Santa Caterina in the city center, a stone’s throw from the Gothic Quarter, is a thoughtful renovation that preserves the market’s original brick and cast-iron structure while introducing new elements to create a distinctive market experience. The market’s new, colorful, undulating tile roof is undoubtedly an icon of Barcelona’s new architectural landscape.

Additionally, the discovery of a Roman necropolis and a 12th-century convent during the works has imbued the Mercat de Santa Caterina with a deep sense of history. The ancient remnants have been thoughtfully incorporated into the design, serving as a testament to Barcelona’s layered urban evolution. This integration strengthens the connection between the structure and its surrounding urban fabric and elevates the market from a mere commercial venue to a cultural landmark, enriching visitors’ experience.


Beyond the Traditional Food Market Model: Mercat del Born

Enfo100 Mercat del Born, excavacions arqueològiques de la RiberaCC BY-SA 3.0 | Renovation project by the Barcelona City Council in collaboration with a team of architects and archaeologists (2013)

These examples demonstrate how the redefinition of the food market model has expanded activity beyond selling goods at stalls. The new market model is reimagined as an extension of the streets, incorporating cafes, shops, restaurants and cultural centers that add to the city’s vibrant lifestyle. Converting a traditional market into a venue where food stalls are not the primary focus is a unique approach. For example, the Mercat del Born has been transformed into a cultural center displaying layers of the site’s history. The facility highlights a museum dedicated to the archaeological remains dating from Medieval times to the early 18th century. The space also hosts exhibitions, educational programs and neighborhood events, while artisanal food stalls offering local specialties and gourmet goods bring together history, culture and gastronomy.


How Barcelona’s Markets Remain Relevant in the Supermarket Era?

Barcelona’s historic food markets have evolved through architectural renovations that modernize their infrastructure while preserving their original character. These projects go beyond mere restoration, reimagining markets as dynamic community hubs. Many renovations also enhance the surrounding public spaces, further integrating markets into the city’s urban fabric. Their historical value and strong popular support ensure their ongoing relevance in city life.

These improvements also help traditional markets remain competitive in an era of supermarkets and online shopping. The rise of supermarkets in Barcelona during the 1980s posed a significant challenge to traditional markets, drawing customers away. Interestingly, Barcelona’s market renovation strategy has incorporated supermarkets in many facilities rather than resisting this trend or allowing traditional markets to disappear.

More than two-thirds of Barcelona’s 39 food markets—including Mercat de Sant Antoni and Mercat de Santa Caterina—house supermarkets alongside traditional vendors. This approach, which combines the appeal of traditional markets with the practicality of supermarket offerings, attracts a broader customer base, generates rental income, and supports the city’s goal of keeping markets at the heart of neighborhoods, ensuring that residents continue to view them as essential shopping venues rather than vestiges of the past.

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Top image: CanaanMercat S AntoniCC BY-SA 4.0

The post Market Makeovers: How Barcelona’s Public Food Markets Are Evolving With the City appeared first on Journal.

The Conversation Pit Comeback: Why Architects Are Revisiting This Mid-Century Feature

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Don Draper was undoubtedly a flawed man, but unlike his moral compass, his taste in interiors (and two-piece suits) was rarely in question. Fans of the 2010s AMC series Mad Men will likely recall the stunner of a mid-century East-Side apartment that the advertising creative director, played by actor Jon Hamm, shared with his wife Megan from Season 5 onward. The swoon-worth penthouse was decked out with all the old favorites, walnut veneer, grasscloth wallpaper, the obligatory Eames chair and ottoman, and of course, the star of the show, the sunken lounge pit, complete with brown sectional and thick white carpet. This particular design feature was a staple of the 60s.

Decades later, that drop in the floor, a place where cocktails were poured and secrets were spilled, is becoming a fan favorite. Back on the mood boards of architects and interior designers everywhere and far from being a mere nostalgia trip, the lowered lounge arrangement is proving itself a relevant reflection of modern living as people increasingly host casual gatherings at home and crave environments that encourage conversation and authenticity.

The Gables by Patalab Architecture, London, United Kingdom

It would be unfair to credit Draper for starting the trend. In reality, the conversation pit owes its mainstream breakthrough to the 1957, Miller House in Columbus, Indiana, built by the Finnish American architect and industrial designer Eero Saarinen. Saarinen, also known for the Womb chair, the arching Gateway Arch in St. Louis and the winged TWA Flight Center in New York, approached furniture design as an extension of architecture with material, form and function being intrinsically linked to the building a piece was occupying.

By the late 1960s, conversation pits were the epitome of cool, popping up regularly in design magazines and the homes of the fashion forward. Bold color schemes, thick, fuzzy carpeting and low-hanging pendant lamps typified the style. Over time, however, shifting tastes, the rise of open-plan living and changes in building codes made the sunken lounge a passing novelty. Many boarded over their drop-down floors in the name of minimalism, relegating conversation pits to the design archives — until now.

Today, a blend of changing social habits and tightening budgets has revived desire for the sunken lounge. Rather than spending on pricey dinners and noisy bars, many people are choosing to host at home. Themed cocktail nights, craft sessions, board-game marathons and watch parties are taking over living rooms. While grocery subscription boxes are making even the most wary cook try their hand in the kitchen, grazing boards are regularly a trending topic on social media. One of the challenges in these scenarios is ensuring guests remain together. No one wants to be sat in a line on the sofa, especially if you’re the one on the end, craning your neck as you try to keep track of the conversation.

Villa Alley by DALL OFFICE, Ghalat, Iran

By lowering a section of the floor, a conversation pit creates an intuitive boundary — no walls needed. Everyone settles at roughly the same eye level, invited into the same circle of chatter and shared snacks. Lounge pits mean no perching on mismatched stools, without a place to sit your plate or glass and less chance of satellite groups drifting off into separate corners and conversations.

However, bringing a conversation pit into a contemporary home requires thoughtful planning. Structural layout can cause big issues. Unsurprisingly, it’s not easy to cut a hole into your floor that wasn’t designed to be there. Some projects will face limitations. There may be hidden ductwork or load-bearing beams that restrict how low one can realistically go. New builds have an advantage here. Designers can incorporate a pit from the start, ensuring that the foundation, framework and any underfloor utilities are accounted for.

Or, if that’s not an option, many modern iterations follow the fake-it-til-you-make-it line of design, steps up, and then back down to give the impression of a sunken floor without any structural modifications. While some furniture manufacturers are making modular sofas that can be configured like a lounge pit saving the need for any permanent modifications.

House Boogert by Borren Staalenhoef Architects, Epe, Netherlands | Photos by Pieter Kers

Being an invention of the 60s, conversation pits thrive on tactile and inviting materials. Wool-blends, suede and corduroy are all classics. But a bold, retro pattern will always work well in a lounge pit. Open-plan homes can suffer from acoustic reverberations, so dropping the floor encloses the space while the seating acts as sound baffles, meaning conversation stays clear and intimate. Large, overstuffed cushions can help with this too, not only encouraging extended lounging but also helping absorb and dampen sound.

Many critics call them dangerous — hazardous and awkward. Now, of course, no one wants their guests — or children — tripping into a pit. However, the best designs address this by installing broad, shallow steps and lighting them with discreet, warm LEDs. An unassuming timber rail or a raised wraparound ledge can double as a safety feature while also working as a makeshift side table. If accessibility is a concern, designers might integrate ramps or wider landing pads so that everyone, including those with wheelchairs or limited mobility, can enter and exit comfortably.

House L011 by Stephan Maria Lang Architects, Munich, Germany

This is particularly important in public settings. Though famed for its role in private homes, the sunken lounge is making inroads in hospitality and work environments, too. Hotels, keen to cater to a wide variety of guest needs through day into night, can incorporate pits in their lobbies or lounge bars, giving visitors a cozy corner to converse over coffee or linger over drinks. Equally, co-working studios that typically look to be flexible in their seating offerings can also be seen regularly devoting a recessed seating area to help facilitate informal meetups.

Mostly, the comeback of the conversation pit highlights our collective desire to reconnect in person. Digital entertainment dominates daily life, and yet people still crave face-to-face interaction. A slightly dropped seating area, ringed in plush, enveloping and textured cushions, prompts everyone to lean in and talk. There is no corner seat left out of the loop, no wide gap between participants. It is a small tweak in spatial planning but one that can profoundly change how a group interacts.

It would be easy to dismiss the lounge pit as a piece of 1960s nostalgia, best left to Don Draper and his questionable after-hours conduct. Yet its reappearance suggests it addresses genuine needs in modern life: the push for intimate social zones that do not eliminate the open flow of contemporary homes. By lowering a section of the floor instead of throwing up partition walls, designers preserve the sense of a spacious layout while carving out a natural space for social interaction to refocus our attention and bring people together.

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The Paradox of Climate Control: Utopian Escape or Environmental Hubris?

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Imagine a circular dome filled with snowy mountain ranges, penguins and polar bears, situated in the desert outside Dubai. A sphere that acts as a new commodity and attraction for ski lovers who are tired of traditional destinations and wish to enjoy an exhilarating winter sports experience within a scorching barren land.

Even though it was never built, the Dubai Sunny Mountain Ski-Dome was an actual project in the works in the early years of 2000. The project intended to bring winter and snow to the desert, as well as provide an alternative for permanent residents to escape the hot season with a new winter wonderland placed in their own back yard. Still, if we set aside the complexity and the required technology for such construction, the Ski-Dome acts as an evolution of other futuristic and even utopian architectural projects, all of which suggest an artificial container where weather conditions and local climates are controlled.

Examples such as Buckminster Fuller’s geodesic domes, designed to create self-sustaining habitats, the Cloud Nine project, which proposed floating geodesic spheres capable of sustaining human life in isolated environments and the more recent Eden project in the UK, featuring interconnected biomes that house diverse plant species in controlled conditions, are all speculative proposals for constructing a new climatological “utopia.”

Why is there such a big desire to control the weather? Is it a matter of power, convenience, spectacle or profit? More importantly, is it an ethical pursuit, or does it foreshadow a dystopian future where humans increasingly isolate themselves from the natural world instead of adapting to it?

A contained, artificial “atmosphere” is not a foreign concept. In its simplest form, it is an air-conditioned house interior, that offers comfort and shelter from extreme weather conditions. In its more complex materialized form, it looks something like Montreal’s underground city, RESO. The FA house in Vietnam, for instance, designed by atelier tho.A was cladded in a translucent skin to protect the 20-year old structure from the direct impact of weather. Consequently, the house was transformed into a greenhouse maintaining a stable interior temperature all year round.

FA house / atelier tho.A - architizer

FA house / atelier tho.A - architizer

FA house by atelier tho.A, Dalat, Vietnam

On the other hand, the Butterfly Dome project by Gerber Architekten offers “social” as well as climatological protection. Situated on the bridge between areas of the KAFD the design aims to create an urban landmark and a peaceful oasis amidst the chaotic activity of the Financial District. The sphere’s contained microclimate allows an array of tree species to thrive, offering a breath of fresh and (ironically) filtered air amongst the dense urban landscape.

Butterfly Dome / Gerber Architekten - architizer

Butterfly Dome / Gerber Architekten - architizer

Butterfly Dome by Gerber Architekten, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia

Is then the aspiration for climate control actually a need of protection? Are climatologically artificial, enclosed environments a necessity for survival and better living? Going back to the Dubai Ski Dome, this does not seem to be the case. Taking into account that the concept was first proposed in the early 2000s, when climate change was known but not as pressing an issue as it is today.

Instead of serving as a response to environmental urgency, the Dubai-Ski Dome was going to be a part of Dubailand, and was seen more as an entertainment venue that somewhat hubristically defied the natural landscape and local weather conditions. However, contemporary architectural projects show that there is a shift from a luxury to an essential strategy for survival, in order to respond to the increasing global temperatures, rising sea levels, and extreme weather patterns.

In truth, the dream of building enclosed environments to shield humans from external weather conditions is no longer just a speculative exercise — it is rapidly becoming a reality. However, with this new direction towards controlled climates, it is important to consider the unavoidable ethical and ecological implications. Will such environments be accessible to all or would they be considered a luxury for most people? In parallel, will they promote a seamless adaptation with nature, or would they encourage further environmental detachment? In our current climate crisis, the Dubai Ski-Dome may appear to be a utopian escape, yet it also serves as a glaring symbol of the very forces that led to this environmental degradation in the first place.

Featured Image: Jürgen Matern, Eden Project geodesic domes panorama, CC BY-SA 2.5

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Architecture 101: What is the Passive House (Passivhaus) in Design?

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Passive House is an architectural approaches that prioritizes materials and construction techniques that significantly reduce the emissions of a building. Technically speaking, the term should only be applied to projects that meet a specific standard. But what exactly does that mean?


Characteristics of Passive House (Passivhaus)

Is it Passivhaus or Passive House? What’s the difference?

Passivhaus is the German translation of Passive House. The terms are interchangeable.

What is the Passive House Standard in architecture?

The Passive House Standard refers to an international building energy performance level. Ascertaining exactly how many buildings meet this criteria isn’t easy the International Passive House Association has accredited around 50,000 structures globally as of January 2025. The Passive House Accelerator puts the number at closer to 150,000 worldwide.

Despite the name, the Passive House Standard can be applied to both residential homes (houses) and commercial properties. The globally recognized Passive House Standards are as follows: 

  • Up to 15 kWh per square meter of floor for heating and cooling.
  • Up to 60 kWh per square meter for primary energy including water and electricity.
  • Leak air up to 0.6 times the volume of the house per hour at 0.0073 PSI. 

It is also recommended that heat loads for heating source at design temperature is less than 10 watts per square meter. However, this is not compulsory.  The standard was validated at the Passive House Institute, in Darmstadt, Germany, in 1996. 

What are the five Passive House principles?

The Passive House Standard can be met through a wide variety of techniques, but will always comply with the following core principles:

  1. Design must be free of thermal bridges where heat can easily escape.
  2. High quality insulation should be used continually throughout the structure.
  3. Construction has to be airtight.
  4. Ventilation systems should recover heat from the inside atmosphere and transfer this to fresh air.
  5. Superior windows — fully insulated and fitted with low-e glazing — are required.

What are the benefits of building to Passive House Standards?

Long-term cost savings and comfort are key reasons why people reach for Passive House Standards when designing buildings. Maximising energy efficiency means lower bills and other operating costs, well ventilated rooms are generally more pleasant to spend time in, and with less reliance on artificial climate control — and better air quality — there are also real health benefits.

Passive House advantages go well beyond this, though. Environmental impact is significantly reduced, making this a planet-friendly type to architecture. This is likely to pay dividends in the future, as legislation relating to issues such as heat and electricity consumption tighten and the idea of active fines and punitive measures against those failing to meet new standards becomes a reality, in both commercial or residential settings. Seen in this light, ‘passive’ is also about future-proofing.


History of Passive House Architecture

Sendero Verde by Handel Architects, New York City, New York

When did Passivhaus first rise to prominence and where did it originate? 

According to Passipedia — the largest passive house resource online — the very first Passive House was actually a ship — the Fram. This research vessel was completed in 1893, and built to survive harsh polar environments. Mastermind Fridtjof Nansen said at the time: “whether the thermometer stands at 22 above zero, or 22 below, we have no fire in the stove.” 

More recognisable Passive House designs began to appear in Europe during the 1970s. Key examples include Copenhagen academic Professor Vagn Korsgaard’s DTH, the world’s first zero energy house developed at the Technical University of Denmark.

Around that time, doctors Horst Hörster, Bernd Steinmüller, Günther Bergmann, Richard Bruno, Wilhelm Hermann, Reinhard Kersten, and Klaus Klinkenberg built their own super-insulated low energy experimental home in Aachen, Germany. Studies suggesting potential energy saving of 10 to 20 times compared with regular European and North American houses. Meanwhile, in Canada and Colorado, William A. Shurcliff and Wayne Shick, and Amory Lovins,  were also working on their own concepts. 

While these examples laid the foundations for today’s passive houses, they also had some serious problems. Poor performing windows, a lack of awareness about the importance of long-term airtightness — something Swedish Professor Arne Elmroth played a pivotal role in addressing — and comparatively rudimentary energy technology were among the most glaring issues. 

Taking this into consideration, the Passive House principle can’t really be traced to a singular genesis. As Passipedia explains, it was “not ‘invented” by anyone”, but discovered through a long process of trial and error. Comparable examples have existed in countries and regions such as Iceland, Southern China, Iran and Portugal, for centuries, with many indigenous construction techniques relying on natural climate control and other elements. However, if we had to put a date on the first building to comply with the Passive House Standard then Kranichstein Passive House, Darmstadt, Germany, is recognised as the earliest.

Vital Brookdale by Dattner Architects, Brooklyn, New York

Where is Passive House design most popular or widespread?

Germany is currently home to the most Passive House Standard certified buildings. Which makes sense, considering the concept was first validated there. Specifically, Bahnstadt, Heidelberg, is cited as the largest passive house district on Earth.

Austria is also considered a global leader in this approach, which has also found popularity in a number of other Northern European nations. Nevertheless, increasing numbers of these buildings are cropping up in places like UAE, Argentina, Sweden and the US, a trend that reflects a growing recognition this can be applied in a broad variety of climates.

Although fixed numbers relating to the increasing prevalence of passive houses are hard to come by at a global level, the Passive House Accelerator reports that New York City introduced 3million square feet of passive homes in 2024, up from 1.82million in 2021.


Case Studies and Examples of Passive House Buildings

The Rye Apartments by Tikari Works, London, United Kingdom

What are some famous architects and firms associated with Passive House design?

  • MESH ArchitecturesEric Liftin’s “hybrid architectural practice” designs for both IRL and online, with the focus on low impact projects delivered through accredited Passive House expertise.
  • Prewett Bizley Architects – Founder Michael Ingui is the guy who set up Passive House Accelerator and created Manhattan’s  first ever certified Passive House — a stunning Renaissance Revival-fronted, late-19th Century townhouse.
  • Steinsvik Arkitektkonter AS  – Situated in Tromsø, northern Norway, the neighbourhood of Storelva sits next to a spectacular ford and takes its name from a tributary river. Here, you’ll find ‘northern passive houses’ I-Box 120 and Storelva by veterans Steinsvik Arkitektkonter AS.
  • TECTO ARHITECTURABucharest, Romania-based “ECOthinking – ECOtechnology” specialist TECTO makes no secret of its commitment to sustainable architecture. Like the PASSIVE HOUSE DESIGN in a beautiful inner-city forest.
  • Abendroth Architekten – Energy efficiency comes as standard with Austria’s Abendroth Architekten, which sees Passive House design as a “daily building challenge.”

What are famous examples of architecture built to Passive House Standards?

  • Passivehaus by Professor Bott / Ridder / Westermeyer: Probably the most famous Passive House on the planet is found in Darmstadt, Germany, where Bett, Ridder and Westermeyer completed the very first homes built to this standard in 1993.
  • Paseo Mallorca 15 by OHLAB / oliver hernaiz architecture lab: For many people Palma means a charming harbour and the spectacular Gothic Roman Catedral-Basilica de Santa Maria. Paseo Mallorca 15 is a much newer landmark, made to Passive House standards in 2022.
  • Vital Brookdale by Dattner Architects: Passive House dieting isn’t usually associated with affordable homes, which is why Dattner’s King’s County, Brooklyn community project really stands out — a 160 unit, 25,000 square foot rarity.
  • The Rye Apartments by Tikari Works: Ten homes in landmark building at a well-appointed position on a London street offer whole-house heat recovery ventilation, high performance solar controlled glazing and air-tight interiors.
  • Ville Verdi by ALBERT WIMMER ZT-GMBH: Finished in 2009, Ville Verdi manages to jostle for our attention next to two of the most iconic structures in Vienna’s 11th District. Made up of five buildings, this complex is a great example of a Passive House community.

The Future of Passive House Design

Passivhaus Institut, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Are Passive House principles being diffused and integrated into popular architecture?

Increasing numbers of Passive House designs worldwide suggest a gradual mainstreaming of these principles, although certification still only covers a tiny minority of all construction projects. However, ‘passive elements’ are now much more commonplace in ‘standard’ developments, even if the project doesn’t meet all standards. For example, insulation and low impact or renewable heat sources, trends driven by net zero needs and exacerbated by the post-pandemic era of uncertain energy costs.

Are prices coming down on the materials required for building to Passive House Standard?

In 2019, the UK Passiv Haus Trust reports an average cost increase of 8% for developments that meet passive standards. This was significantly down on the 15-20%  additional investment needed back in 2015. The organization predicts overheads could fall to just 4% more than regular building designs in the coming years as the industry scales up. 

Architizer's 13th A+Awards features a suite of sustainability-focused categories recognizing designers that are building a greener industry — and a better future. Start your entry to receive global recognition for your work!

The post Architecture 101: What is the Passive House (Passivhaus) in Design? appeared first on Journal.

Set-Jetting: How Film Tourism is Changing Real-World Landmarks

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At some point in the last decade, the idea of a “cultural pilgrimage” has shifted from tours of cathedrals in Europe and exploring ancient ruins in Asia to snapping a selfie outside that particular brownstone in New York or running full speed up a certain set of museum steps in Philadelphia.

Every day, sites around the world are flooded with visitors who, thanks to their portrayal in TV shows and movies, are more interested in a landmark’s on-screen role than the true history of the architecture. The medieval streets of Dubrovnik have been recast as King’s Landing, Matamata in New Zealand has been known as Hobbiton since the early 2000s, and in Albuquerque, the owners of a perfectly ordinary family home have had to install a fence, not for security but to deter Breaking Bad fans from lobbing pizzas onto their roof.

It’s a phenomenon that is changing urban landscapes and, in some cases, requiring quite extensive intervention.

Unlike traditional tourism, which at its core is cultural appreciation, film-induced travel, otherwise known as “set-jetting,” is obsessively specific. It doesn’t focus on a certain city or a period of history with broad geographical bearings. A single storyline, character or shot is what is important to fans. They want to stand in the exact spot where their favourite character was triumphantly victorious or mercilessly executed. In the process, they’ve arrived in droves and altered the significance of these singular places, creating shrines of pop culture.

Highclere Castle, United Kingdom | Photo by leefenn-tripp via Pixabay.

For some locations, it’s a financial lifeline, pouring fresh revenue into a building that might otherwise be in disrepair. For others, it becomes more of a burden than a blessing. For better or worse, film-induced tourism has become a global sensation. As streaming services flood our screens with expansive universes, fans increasingly want to walk in the footsteps of their favourite fiction.

Yet it isn’t merely the novelty of fans running around in cloaks or brandishing plastic swords that makes fan pilgrimages great. On a deeper level, these pilgrimages are changing the way in which entire communities and their architecture survive.

For some buildings, cinematic fame provides a second life by injecting huge amounts of revenue. If Highclere Castle, the grand 19th-century estate immortalized as Downton Abbey, had relied solely on heritage grants and private funding, it might have suffered the same fate as countless stately homes across Great Britain. Partial closure, dwindling maintenance or an ignoble transformation into a corporate events venue is a story told year in and year out.

Instead, since the show’s debut, the estate has welcomed over 120,000 visitors a year, pouring revenue into much-needed roof repairs and historically accurate conservation work that might otherwise have been impossible. In the decade since Downton Abbey first aired, ticketed tours and spin-off events have funded repairs on over 50 rooms, helping the estate maintain its integrity without compromising its history. A similar story unfolded with the Hatley Castle in Canada, a popular film location for over 80 years. See X-Men and Deadpool as recent examples.

Dubrovnik, Croatia | Photo by Ioannis Ioannidis via Pixabay.

However, for locations with genuine architectural or historical significance, film tourism can be a double-edged sword. The streets of Dubrovnik, now synonymous with Game of Thrones, have seen an explosion in foot traffic, with over 4 million overnight stays recorded in 2019 — double the numbers from 2012, when the series first aired. The historic limestone streets, some over 700 years old, have suffered serious erosion under the weight of tourists, leading UNESCO to recommend stricter visitor management strategies.

In cases like this, preservation authorities struggle with a fundamental question: should a site continue to be protected for its actual history, or should it evolve to accommodate the identity given to it by popular culture? The latter isn’t as absurd as it sounds. After all, heritage is often shaped by perception as much as fact. The difference is that in traditional historic preservation, the narrative is that of real events. With film tourism, it is dictated by a storyline that has no direct connection to the site itself.

Skellig Michael, County Kerry, Ireland | Photo by NakNakNak via Pixabay

In truth, some places simply weren’t designed to handle their newfound popularity. Skellig Michael, a 6th-century monastic settlement off the Irish coast, saw visitor numbers surge from 11,000 to 17,000 annually after its role in Star Wars: The Last Jedi. While its dry-stone beehive huts have withstood centuries of Atlantic storms, they are far more vulnerable to human impact. The narrow stairways, never intended for large crowds, face accelerated erosion, prompting conservation authorities to also introduce strict visitor caps and controlled access points.

The architectural imprint of film tourism doesn’t just affect existing buildings either. It influences future development. In cities eager to capitalize on cinematic fame, new projects have been seen to take design cues from fictional worlds, ultimately reshaping the architectural vernacular of a place.

Tribune Tower Conversion by SCB, Chicago, Illinois

For instance, Chicago’s postmodern skyline has played the role of Gotham City many times, with Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy using the city’s real streets and skyscrapers to depict Batman’s cinematic world. In the years following, multiple new high-rise developments have adopted darker glass façades and angular silhouettes, mimicking the aesthetics of Gotham’s on-screen identity. Whether deliberate or not, film-driven perception feeds back into the real world, influencing design choices in profound ways.

Hotel Marcel by Becker + Becker, New Haven, Connecticut

Likewise, on a broader scale, the revival of Brutalism in contemporary architecture can, in part, be attributed to shifting cultural feelings about the style that everyone once hated. Once regarded as ugly relics, the worst of mid-century design, the stark, imposing concrete structures have become essential backdrops for dystopian productions. Andor, The Last of Us and even Blad Runner 2049 all adopt a brutalist aesthetic, making it popular once more. This renewed visibility has fuelled a growing appreciation for Brutalist icons, recognizing them as sought-after cinematic settings.

In most cases of popularity as a result of set-jetting, the challenge lies in finding a balance between welcoming the cultural and economic benefits without sacrificing architectural integrity. For some, this means enforcing crowd management strategies for protection. In others, it might involve leaning into a site’s newfound cinematic legacy and using it as a means of reinvention. The most sustainable approach is one that acknowledges that a building can be both historically significant and culturally redefined and that architecture can exist in a state of continuous reinterpretation without losing its core identity.

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Top image: Hobbiton in New Zealand by hunt-er via Pixabay 

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The Architecture of Scarcity: 10 Material-Saving Projects That Prove Less Is More

The latest edition of “Architizer: The World’s Best Architecture” — a stunning, hardbound book celebrating the most inspiring contemporary architecture from around the globe — is now available. Order your copy today.  

It is easy to forget that architecture, or more accurately, construction, is an extraction industry. Every city skyline, every development, every concrete slab is a subtraction from somewhere else. Be it sand dredged from riverbeds, forests cleared for timber or ore mined from the earth.

For most of our history, these processes were self-regulating. A village could only quarry as much stone as its laborers could haul; a timber-framed house could only be built if there were trees to fell. However, as industrialization untethered material from place, the balance shifted. The cost of transporting goods fell, the appetite for resources grew and suddenly, construction was no longer restricted by the availability of materials.

Since then, wasteful construction practices, carbon-heavy supply chains and a reliance on materials that deplete faster than we can regenerate them (if indeed we can at all) have remained. The world is running out of sand, yet concrete production continues to devour it. The cost of shipping timber has soared, yet forests are still being cleared at an unsustainable rate. The energy used to produce steel and glass makes them some of the most carbon-intensive materials on the planet, yet towers of both rise in cities that claim to be sustainable.

Thankfully, architecture endeavors to correct itself when excess becomes unsustainable. As raw materials become more expensive, land scarcer and environmental limits become more pressing, the most interesting work today is not that which flaunts abundance but its opposite. Faced with so many contradictions, architects are designing with restraint, using fewer resources, repurposing what already exists and questioning whether buildings need to be built at all. Where past generations reached for high-tech solutions, today’s architects are turning to materials and techniques that are hyper-local, low-energy and even centuries old. The following ten examples are pragmatic responses to an industry being forced to do more with less.


Freebooter

By GG-loop, Amsterdam, Netherlands

Photos by Francisco Nogueira and Michael Sieber

In an industry accustomed to material excess, Freebooter strips construction down to its essentials. Prefabricated timber modules reduce waste and speed up assembly, while moveable wooden slats — reminiscent of the sails of Dutch ships — provide passive climate control. Designed with near-total material efficiency, Freebooter is a model for how prefabrication and biomimicry can work in tandem to create sustainable, low-impact architecture.


Tile House

By the bloom architects, Vietnam

Photos by Hiroyuki Oki

Many cities in Vietnam favor new and expensive glass and steel. However, Tile House shows that the answer to sustainable construction may lie in rethinking what is already available. Terracotta roof tiles, salvaged from the original site building, are arranged into a breathable skin to reduce heat gain and improve airflow, eliminating the need for mechanical cooling. This architecture is one of adaptation rather than new production, proving that “waste not want not” is as good a practice in architecture as any other.


54 Social Housing

By Fortuny-Alventosa Morell Arquitectes, Inca, Spain

Photographs by Jose Hevia

Social housing is often a case study in material scarcity and cost saving. Here, however, that limitation is turned into an asset. Prefabrication reduces construction waste, while the terracotta façades and deeply recessed balconies regulate temperature naturally. The project is a rebuttal to the notion that affordability and sustainability are incompatible. Efficiency of both space and material can result in housing that is both livable and resource-conscious.


Madwaleni River Lodge

By Luxury Frontiers, KZN, South Africa

Building in remote, ecologically sensitive regions requires an entirely different approach. Importing materials is ecologically and financially costly. Madwaleni River Lodge is built using what is at hand. Raised on stilts to minimize land disturbance, the lodge employs locally sourced thatch and timber while embracing traditional construction methods that require little energy or infrastructure. It demonstrates that keeping things simple can yield incredible results.


Two Paper Houses

BY LUO studio, Zhengzhou, China

Popular Choice Winner, Sustainable Interior Project, 12th Annual A+Awards

Photos by Jin Weiqi and Luo Yujie

If scarcity forces innovation, then paper — one of construction’s most overlooked materials — is a fitting experiment in doing more with less. Designed as an exhibition space, this project by LUO Studio transforms discarded waste paper tubes into a lightweight, modular framework. The tubes, sourced from packaging production, form a self-supporting load-bearing system. The structure is assembled with minimal additional resources, reinforcing the idea that sustainability is as much about rethinking waste as it is about reducing consumption. From the exhibition, the team involved is keen to implement the learning into future housing construction.


The Bull @ Zab e Lee Cooking School

By Chiangmai Life Architects, Chiang Mai, Thailand

Photos by Alberto Cosi, CLA

Bamboo’s reputation as a sustainable material is well established, but in this day and age, few projects explore its full potential as a primary structure. Here, bent bamboo poles form a sweeping, vaulted roof. Using only locally sourced bamboo, earth, and lime plaster, the cook school highlights how to design without dependence on energy-intensive materials.


Project Plum Grove

By School of Architecture, The Chinese University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong

Rather than demolishing an abandoned Hakka village, Project Plum Grove restores and reinforces what remains. Stone and timber are salvaged from collapsed structures, while polycarbonate panels provide insulation without obscuring history. Instead of replacing vernacular architecture with modern materials, the project embraces repair as a design philosophy. Sometimes, the most sensible solution is simply to leave things standing.


Prepared Rehmannia Root Crafts Exhibition Hall

By LUO studio, Xiuwu County, Jiaozuo, China

Jury Winner, Cultural & Expo Centers, 12th Annual A+Awards

Photos by Jin Weiqi

In regions where industrial materials are costly or impractical, architecture often returns to what is readily available. The Prepared Rehmannia Root Crafts Exhibition Hall does exactly that, using locally sourced timber and brick to reduce transportation emissions and material waste. Its circular timber structure, inspired by traditional drying racks, relies on resource-efficient joinery rather than energy-intensive steel reinforcements. The red bricks, fired in nearby kilns that have operated for generations, integrate the project into its surroundings without introducing high-carbon materials.


Enso House II

By HW Studio, San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

Photos by Cesar Bejar

When resources are scarce, architecture adapts. Enso House II is built almost entirely from locally quarried stone, chosen not for aesthetics, which are undoubtedly fantastic, but because transporting materials was neither practical nor sustainable. The stone’s thermal mass stabilizes temperatures, eliminating the need for mechanical cooling, while carefully placed openings control airflow and light. The house is defined not by what was added but by what was left out. Free from ornament or excess, it stands as a response to material constraints and architectural restraint.


Hause for Marebito

By VUILD, Toyama, Japan

Photos by Takumi Ota

Japan’s forests are abundant, yet in some places under-utilized, with local timber often bypassed in favor of imported materials. Hause for Marebito addresses this imbalance by integrating digital fabrication into rural forestry, allowing large-diameter trees to be processed into architectural elements within their own region. Built using locally sourced timber and precision-milled without nails or heavy machinery, the house revives traditional Gassho-zukuri construction through interlocking joinery and lightweight modular parts. Designed as a crowdfunded co-ownership model, it challenges conventional ideas of home ownership while tackling resource inefficiency and depopulation. In areas where both land and materials are often wasted, this project reframes scarcity as an opportunity for self-sufficiency.

The latest edition of “Architizer: The World’s Best Architecture” — a stunning, hardbound book celebrating the most inspiring contemporary architecture from around the globe — is now available. Order your copy today.  

The post The Architecture of Scarcity: 10 Material-Saving Projects That Prove Less Is More appeared first on Journal.

From Smokestacks to Startups: The Evolution of Barcelona’s Visionary 22@ District

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The transformation of the 22@ district from a neglected industrial area into a thriving innovation hub has significantly impacted Barcelona’s economy, culture and urban environment. As an innovation district — an urban area where businesses, research centers and startups coexist to promote collaboration and technological development — 22@ is a thriving area that emerged from a revitalization process.

One of its greatest achievements is its ability to juxtapose preservation and innovation. The district embraces modern development, while it honors its industrial past with repurposed industrial buildings and preserved smokestacks integrated into contemporary architecture. This balanced symbiosis of heritage and progress has given the neighborhood a distinct identity, attracting international companies and creative startups. Companies like Amazon, Meta and Microsoft have established a presence in the area, fueling job creation and drawing global talent.

Additionally, Barcelona’s geographical location on the Mediterranean coast, its pleasant year-round climate and its high quality of life have undoubtedly contributed to the success of the 22@ innovation district.


From Catalan Manchester to 22@

Xavier Badia Castellà, Roc Boronat 45-53CC BY-SA 3.0

Poblenou’s industrial activity was at its height in the late 19th and early 20th century. This Barcelona neighborhood became known as the “Catalan Manchester.” In the 1960s, the area’s industrial activity started shift to other locations outside the city. Most of the remaining industrial structures were abandoned and others were used temporarily as storage facilities, workshops and artist studios.

The transformation of the Poblenou neighborhood began with the 1992 Olympics, which brought significant urban improvements, including revitalizing the waterfront. These substantial changes laid the groundwork for further redevelopment.

In 2000, the City Council launched an initiative to regenerate 200 hectares of Poblenou’s underutilized land. Over the past two decades, the former industrial neighborhood has become a vibrant mixed-use district known as 22@, where cultural, scientific and technological activities coexist alongside housing, restaurants, hotels and parks. While the neighborhood has embraced modern development, its industrial heritage remains visible in the preserved structures, repurposed for new business uses and thoughtfully integrated into the contemporary urban fabric.

A good example of adaptive reuse is the KNEM project, whose design reimagines an existing jute spinning mill into a new facility to accommodate new office space. The design preserves the original main façade under the Architectural Heritage Protection Plan, juxtaposed with new glass boxes screened behind aluminum screens, evoking the weaving of jute fibers. KNEM Offices is one of many similar projects that breathe new life into the former industrial neighborhood, merging its history with innovative functionality.


Smokestacks as Landmarks of Urban Transformation

Industrial Smokestack preserved in Campus de la Comunicació, Universitat Pompeu Fabra, Poblenou (Barcelona) | Photo by Teresa Grau Ros via Flickr CC BY-SA 2.0

22@ takes its name from the original “22a” industrial zoning denomination, which identified manufacturing areas. This denomination was reinterpreted as 22@ to be more in tune with the new development plan with innovative and technological aspirations. The former industrial neighborhood has been transformed into a modern hub for education, research, and business, but its industrial heritage remains.

Perhaps the most symbolic feature of this revitalization is the preservation of the industrial smokestacks and their integration into new developments. Once essential for the textile and manufacturing industries in the Poblenou neighborhood, these towering smokestacks were prominent features of Barcelona’s skyline. No longer functional, many have been preserved as monuments. As the neighborhood’s redevelopment evolves toward a modern and dynamic hub for innovation and technology, the smokestacks are visual anchors to the neighborhood’s former industrial activity.

Today, the iconic brick smokestacks stand among cutting-edge buildings linking Poblenou’s industrial past and its new identity as an innovation district. Some developments go beyond the mere preservation efforts, integrating the smokestacks into new buildings and open public spaces to emphasize their relevance in the history and culture of Barcelona and the Catalan region.


Innovation, Connectivity, and Urban Life

KNEM Offices by b720 Fermín Vázquez Arquitectos, Barcelona, Spain | Photo by Oriol Gómez

The brick towers have served as landmarks that unify the entire 22@ innovation district. Whether they are a distinctive feature of a new building or a monument in a public open space, they knit together a new urban fabric. The neighborhood’s transformation promotes innovation and progress, emphasizing a compact development approach that optimizes land use while fostering a mixed-use environment. Residential, commercial, cultural, educational, hospitality and office buildings form an urban setting that supports work and daily life. Furthermore, 22@ reflects pedestrian-friendly urban design, prioritizing public transportation, bicycle lanes and open areas.

This emphasis on connectivity goes beyond buildings. Many architectural projects are sometimes tied to communal open spaces, creating a cohesive new urban fabric. Unlike isolated business campuses that are only accessible by car and with little emphasis on quality of life, 22@ supports an environment that integrates work, housing and recreation, reinforcing a sense of community and accessibility.


An Experimental Laboratory for the City’s Evolving Identity

Technology Center Leitat

Technology Center Leitat  by Picharchitects/Pich-Aguilera. Barcelona, Spain | Photo by Lourdes Jansana

The Torre Glòries by Jean Nouvel symbolizes the transformation of the former industrial area into a new innovation district. Also, the Media-TIC building by Enric Ruiz Geli is an experimental architectural landmark embodying principles of innovation and sustainability. Beyond these iconic structures, many remodeled industrial buildings and new constructions balance heritage and innovative design. This combination creates a vibrant mixed-use hub where universities, start-ups, business incubators and accelerators, residential buildings, restaurants, hotels and parks coexist.

The area is an experimental laboratory for innovative architecture and urban planning, much like Idelfons Cerdà’s Eixample grid for efficient city expansion in the 19th century. The 1992 Olympics also transformed neglected areas into thriving developments and revitalized the city’s coastline — a lasting urban planning legacy. 22@ follows in these footsteps by introducing adaptive reuse strategies, implementing sustainable principles and creating innovative open spaces woven into a cohesive urban fabric.

Much like the towering brick smokestacks, the neighborhood’s modern highrises redefine the city’s skyline, signaling a new era of progress, juxtaposing history and progress while shaping the city’s evolving identity.


Preserving the Past, Building the Present

The transition from an industrial district to a mixed-use neighborhood highlights Barcelona’s ability to blend history with progress. By revitalizing a former industrial area — adapting its abandoned structures to accommodate a mix of uses — and building new cutting-edge constructions, the district thrives as a dynamic hub for economic development and urban regeneration.

However, this transformation was not without challenges. Significant changes to zoning laws were required to allow for a new urban framework, integrating residential, commercial and technological development. It also needed substantial infrastructure improvements that involved the upgrade of existing infrastructure to support the growing residential and business populations. Another challenge involved enhancing the public transportation system to ensure the area is well-connected to the rest of the city.

Sustainability has been central to this transformation process, emphasizing compact development and prioritizing a pedestrian-friendly environment with access to public transportation and public spaces. These initiatives have reinforced Barcelona’s leading role as a pioneer in urban planning. The 22@ is a testament to the city’s forward-thinking approach, prioritizing evolution while honoring its historic legacy. It highlights a vision where the past fuels the future, shaping a unique urban landscape. Brick smokestacks, once vital to the industrial heart of the Poblenou, now stand alongside cutting-edge buildings, transforming the neighborhood’s skyline and reinforcing the city’s evolving identity.

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