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The Why Factory (T?F) by MVRDV: The Potential of a Visionary Architectural Think-Tank

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The Why Factory (T?F) is a global think-tank founded in 2008 and led by Winy Maas, founding partner of MVRDV and Professor of Urbanism and Architecture at the Delft University of Technology. It explores possibilities for the future development of cities by utilizing innovative methods of production and visualization. It analyses, theorizes and constructs scientific and fictional city scenarios in order to tackle contemporary urgencies — both global and local, universal and specific. Since its inception, The Why Factory has organized an array of exhibitions, publications, workshops and panel discussions, in an attempt to foster public debates on architecture and urbanism.

That is the traditional (rigid) way of introducing such research groups; by stating their timeline, their goals, their process and their output. However, what is unique regarding The Why Factory is the primary question it asks: Why be visionary? and I would also add, why is it important to be a visionary architect in today’s world? In the Why Factory’s first publication, Visionary Cities in 2009, Winy Maas extensively discusses the need for and potential of visionary thinking in architecture and urbanism:

“A vision is, in a way, what happens between a question mark and a proposal. It asks the big questions and then paints an image for the future with its answer. Most importantly, it is a dream for the city and for its spatial translation that offers a long-term, cohesive, seductive, and strong perspective for future societies. It is part curiosity, part exploration, part fantasy, and part real problem solving. The role of the visionary is to guide, and direct and summarize the course for this increasingly urban world.”

The world, according to Mass, is currently caught between globalization and individualism. With the rise of technology and the internet, any human can now work, communicate and socialize through their own individual screen; their location does not matter anymore. Even the most secluded farm in the Highlands can have the same virtual access to someone living in a large metropolis. In parallel, country borders have faded. The world can be seen as one large city, dealing with crises (financial, environmental, etc.) which are no longer localized, but rendered as global challenges.

For Mass, the answer to those two ‘extremities’ — as he calls it — is vision. Frankly, the use of this word causes great scepticism and fear amongst people, often related to either too narrow-minded, too politically motivated and too bureaucratic or on the other hand, too extreme. Nevertheless, visions can uncover wider collective desires, still stemming from individuals but eventually pointing to wider goals that, in the case of architecture, create new spatial environments that look forward and stage a more optimistic future.


Wego: Tailor-made Housing

The project starts with the hypothesis that by establishing a participatory process in housing design, where each resident can create their house based on their unique desires, then cities would achieve maximum density by optimizing land use, combating inequality as well as limiting the threat of urban sprawl.

The research was a joint effort between The Why Factory, the students from TU Delft and IIT Chicago, RMIT Melbourne and Bezalel Academy Jerusalem. Initially, students were presented with a challenge to convert density into desire, while following a restricted urban envelope with low energy consumption. Eventually, they developed a game that acts as a typological puzzle and pairs different clients, cultures and desires, resulting in a unique housing intensity.


The Green Dip

The project investigates architectural strategies that incorporate plants into buildings by going back to the basic questions: ‘why green? What are its capacities? How does green perform? How can green be implemented to our cities? Can we create a database of plant species? Can we create a software to help us, do it? Can we invent a series of green elements to be implemented?’

Instead of designing a building, a park or anything else that speaks green, the researchers created a new software tool that combines the knowledge of buildings with the knowledge of plants, titled The Green Maker. The software includes a database of 4500 plants, outlining their water needs, total weight, maximum height, oxygen production and CO2 absorption, a catalogue of parametric elements that enables the placement of grasses, shrubs, and trees on any surface in and around buildings as well as additional biome data that ensures that only native plants are selected for each specific site.


AnarCity: When Do We Need Our Neighbors?

The project investigates and designs the anarchistic city, i.e., a city without rules. It asks, ‘aren’t city’s overruled?’ claiming that in most major city’s nowadays, especially the highly dense ones, rules and top-down governance bodies restrict freedom, particularly when it comes to urban uniformity. By using an interactive generative process, tested on an abstract city model as well as in real cities, the project explores the relationship between density and anarchy, arguing that even though rules do provide solutions to societal conflicts, a truly advanced society would be the one where anarchy is not associated with chaos and danger but rather as a collective agreement to certain rules, enforced equally by city inhabitants.


As a final note, I would like to point out that The Why Factory is an exemplary synergy between architectural practice and architectural education. Driven from both academic and professional perspectives, this research group tackles “architectural vision” in a way that bridges the gap between speculative thought and practical application, making The Why Factory not only a pioneer in architectural research but also a critical incubator for the next generation of visionary thinkers and practitioners.

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Featured Image: Why Factory Tribune by MVRDV, 132, Julianalaan, Delft, Netherlands

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Is Social Housing Designed to Fail? (And How We Can Make It Work)

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!

When people hear the term “social housing,” they often think of dilapidated high-rises, crime and neglect — the kinds of places more likely to appear in crime dramas (think the projects in “The Wire”) rather than urban planning success stories. Unfortunately, these stereotypes didn’t come from nowhere. For decades, poorly maintained projects, flawed planning and chronic underfunding turned many of these developments into cautionary tales.

Thankfully, social housing today is not what it once was (despite the stereotypes). Around the world, architects and planners are reimagining what social housing can and should be, creating spaces that are sustainable, inclusive and deeply community-focused. Yet the shadow of past failures still looms large, fueling prejudice and resistance.

Why did so many of these projects fail and why do those failures still shape perceptions? Understanding where social housing faltered—and how it’s being transformed today—is key to making it work for the future. With that in mind, let’s take a closer look at this unique typology’s past, present and future.


A (Somewhat) Brief History of Social Housing

In case you are only vaguely familiar with the typology, social housing, broadly defined, refers to subsidized or government-controlled housing designed to ensure affordability for low- and moderate-income residents. Unlike market-rate housing, it addresses a social need, often through capped rents or mixed-income models that promote inclusivity.

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19th-century London, View of Whitehall from Trafalgar Square which is blurred with pedestrian and carriage traffic, 1839, marked as public domain, more details on Wikimedia Commons

Social housing was born out of necessity. In the late 19th century, rapid industrialization in Europe brought waves of people to cities, overwhelming existing housing stock and creating overcrowded slums. Governments, alarmed by the public health crises and growing unrest, began experimenting with housing solutions that prioritized affordability and sanitation. This early wave of housing projects aimed to provide workers and their families with a basic level of dignity—small, functional homes with access to light, air and clean water.

By the mid-20th century, social housing evolved into something far more ambitious. After World War II, the massive destruction of urban centers spurred governments across Europe and North America to rebuild quickly. Architects and urban planners embraced modernist ideals, envisioning high-rise developments as efficient, utopian answers to housing shortages. Le Corbusier’s vision of the “machine for living” and similar ideas deeply influenced the typology, favoring dense, uniform structures over traditional streetscapes.

Pruitt Igoe 1968, Aerial shot, marked as public domain, more details on Wikimedia Commons

The scale was unprecedented. In Britain alone, more than a million council homes were built in the decade after the war. In the United States, federal housing programs expanded, culminating in large-scale projects like Pruitt-Igoe in St. Louis, which opened in the 1950s as a symbol of optimism and progress.

Yet, as lofty as the goals were, cracks began to show almost immediately. While these projects were designed to address housing shortages, they often failed to account for the social and economic complexities of the communities they aimed to serve. Many of these early developments became isolated, stigmatized and difficult to maintain.

Understanding this history sets the stage for exploring the failures and successes of social housing in the modern era. What started as a noble idea eventually became synonymous with decline in many places, but that wasn’t the whole story — and it isn’t the story today.


Why Social Housing Fails and Architecture’s Role In It

The optimism that fueled early social housing projects quickly collided with complex realities. One of the most well-known examples — practically a cautionary tale taught in architecture schools — is Pruitt-Igoe in St. Louis. Completed in 1954, the project consisted of 33 high-rise buildings designed by Minoru Yamasaki, who would later design the World Trade Center. Pruitt-Igoe was initially seen as a modernist triumph: sleek, efficient and ready to provide affordable housing for low-income residents. But less than 20 years later, it was demolished.

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Pruitt-Igoe , marked as public domain, more details on Wikimedia Commons

So, what went wrong? Economically, the project was doomed by systemic underfunding, segregation policies and the city’s economic decline. As industry jobs left St. Louis, the tax base eroded, leaving little funding for maintenance. Buildings deteriorated, vacancy rates skyrocketed and crime became rampant.

Architecture, however, played a significant role in amplifying these problems. The design prioritized efficiency and density over human needs, creating towering, uniform blocks that felt impersonal and dehumanizing. The sheer scale of Pruitt-Igoe made it difficult for residents to develop a sense of ownership or community. Shared corridors and stairwells—intended as spaces for interaction—were long, poorly lit and lacked natural surveillance, making them feel unsafe and unwelcoming. Combined with the project’s isolation from surrounding neighborhoods, residents were left disconnected not just socially, but physically, from jobs, amenities and support systems.

This isn’t an isolated story. Similar trajectories unfolded in other high-profile developments. Cabrini-Green in Chicago, another infamous example, followed a comparable path of initial optimism, economic neglect and eventual demolition. In London, Robin Hood Gardens — designed by celebrated architects Alison and Peter Smithson — attempted to create community with “streets in the sky”.

Again, poor visibility and insufficient upkeep turned these communal areas into neglected, underused zones. The raw concrete brutalism of the buildings, while architecturally significant, required high maintenance that was rarely provided, accelerating their decline.

Among architects and urban planners, these projects are now looked at as case studies of what happens when design prioritizes abstract ideals over the lived realities of residents. The lesson is clear: architecture is not neutral. When it fails to center people’s needs, it risks creating environments that exacerbate social and economic challenges.


What’s Working in Social Housing Today

Today, successful social housing projects look very different from their predecessors. They are integrated into neighborhoods, human-centered in design and built with sustainability in mind. In many cases, they are indistinguishable from market-rate development, which definitely serves as proof of how far the typology has evolved.

Human-Scaled Design

One of the biggest shifts in social housing design is the emphasis on human scale. Large, imposing structures of the past often felt impersonal, alienating their residents. Human-scaled design counters this by creating spaces that feel approachable, livable and connected to the community.

The 71-unit social housing project in La Courneuve, Paris, illustrates this approach. The development breaks up what could have been a monolithic block into smaller, distinct volumes, giving residents access to light, air and shared spaces like patios and community gardens. These thoughtful design choices promote a sense of identity and connection while fostering interaction among neighbors.

Mixed-Income Models

The importance of mixed-income models lies in their ability to reduce stigma and create more inclusive communities. Housing developments that combine subsidized and market-rate units provide a more equitable distribution of resources and opportunities. This approach also helps to avoid the segregation and isolation that once defined social housing.

ParkLife by Austin Maynard Architects, Melbourne, Australia

ParkLife by Austin Maynard Architects, Melbourne, Australia

ParkLife in Melbourne is a clear example of this model in action. With five of its 37 units designated as social housing, the development integrates a range of income levels within a community-focused environment. Its shared rooftop gardens, amphitheater and other communal spaces encourage all residents to interact, creating a sense of belonging that benefits everyone involved.

Sustainability and Passive Design

54 social housing in Inca, Mallorca, Balearic Islands by Fortuny-Alventosa Morell Arquitectes, Jury Winner, 12th Annual A+Awards, Sustainable Multi-Unit Residential Building

54 social housing in Inca, Mallorca, Balearic Islands by Fortuny-Alventosa Morell Arquitectes, Jury Winner, 12th Annual A+Awards, Sustainable Multi-Unit Residential Building

Sustainability in social housing is essential, not just for environmental reasons but also for long-term livability and affordability. Passive design strategies—such as optimizing natural light, ventilation and thermal efficiency—reduce energy consumption and maintenance costs, ensuring these buildings remain viable over time.

The Inca Social Housing project in Mallorca exemplifies this principle. Its passive strategies, including cross-ventilation, solar panels and thermal inertia, result in nearly net-zero energy use. By employing locally sourced, low-impact materials, the development is both environmentally responsible and cost-effective, setting a new standard for durable, sustainable social housing.

Integration with Urban Life

Integration with urban life ensures that social housing is not isolated from the surrounding city. Well-designed projects connect residents to public transport, amenities and green spaces, fostering a sense of inclusion and opportunity.In Aubervilliers, France, a 26-unit social housing project showcases this integration. Located near a park and commercial areas, the development links residents to the broader community through communal gardens, thoughtfully designed pathways and accessible green spaces. Its modern yet context-sensitive design respects the local heritage while creating a bridge between the past and the future.


Reframing Social Housing: The Future of the Typology

Perhaps the most significant change is how we perceive social housing today. When done well, these projects don’t announce themselves as “affordable” or “subsidized”— they are simply good housing. This shift in design and policy has blurred the lines between social and market-rate developments, challenging stereotypes and creating environments that truly support their residents.

By embracing these new principles, architects and planners are proving that social housing can be as innovative and desirable as any other form of housing. From Melbourne to Paris, the best examples remind us that thoughtful design and policy can transform even the most stigmatized typology into a foundation for thriving, equitable communities.

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 Is Social Housing Designed to Fail? (And How We Can Make It Work) appeared first on Journal.

Home Alone: Exploring the Architecture of Solo Living

The 13th A+Awards invites firms to submit a range of timely new categories, emphasizing architecture that balances local innovation with global vision. Your projects deserve the spotlight, so start your submission today!

In South Korea, there is a word on everyone’s lips: “honjok.” A combination of the Korean words for “by myself” and “tribe,” honjok literally translates to “the tribe of one” and is a way of life that celebrates solitude and autonomy. People who follow a honjok lifestyle will go about their days engaging in many activities alone and, notably, without fear of judgment. They take themselves for dinner, go to the movies solo, and even buy a home — alone.

For many young Koreans, honjok is a reaction to the relentless pace and pressures of modern life. Competitive workplaces leave little room for traditional relationship milestones such as dating, marriage or even living together. At the same time, a growing desire to push back against strict family expectations that often demand conformity, career success and parenthood play a role, too. In this environment, choosing to live alone becomes an act of rebellion as well as self-care.

While the word honjok may belong on the Korean Peninsula, the trend is far from unique to South Korea. Across the globe, solo living is becoming more desirable. In Europe, almost 40% of homes are single-occupancy, while in the US and UK, one-person households make up approximately 30% of the population — a figure that has more than doubled in the last 50 years.

Solo living is increasing for many reasons. In the UK, single women are one of the fastest-growing groups of homebuyers as financial independence and the ability to purchase and maintain a home alone has become a symbol of empowerment, a way of breaking from traditional domestic roles or expectations and a way to ensure personal and financial security. Even within traditional relationships, the notion of cohabiting is changing.

Increasingly, couples are choosing to live apart while maintaining romantic partnerships — a dynamic known as “living apart together” (LAT). For some, it’s about preserving individuality and prioritizing personal space. For others, the demands of dual-career households, often spread across different cities, make separate homes a practical solution. In other cases, blended and unique family units have required rethinking the family living arrangements most would regard as traditional.

Meanwhile, in countries where familial duty typically dictates that aging parents live with their children — Japan, for instance — smaller families and shifting cultural expectations have led to an unprecedented rise in one-person households among older generations. For these individuals, solo living is often about dignity, control and maintaining autonomy in later life.

Clearwater Lake Retreat by Wheeler Kearns Architects, Clearwater Lake, Wisconsin| Photos by Steve Hall

For much of our history, homes were designed for families and communities. Shared functionality shaped everything from floor plans to furniture choices. Dining rooms, for instance, were a must for family meals, while multiple bedrooms and bathrooms to accommodate children, extended relatives and guests were a top priority. By the motor boom in the mid-20th century, the two-car garage became a staple of suburban family homes, and as family dynamics changed, open-plan living encouraged interaction and togetherness. Homes were designed to prioritize collective needs over individual expression. Privacy and personalization were secondary concerns, and compromises kept everyone happy.

However, the rise of solo living has turned things upside down. Architects, designers and even urban planners are being required to rethink the function of the home and consider how spaces designed to serve one rather than many can, like their occupiers, break from tradition and push boundaries.

Designing for a single occupant comes with a unique set of challenges. Unlike multi-occupant homes, which must often balance competing tastes and needs, solo living demands a space that aligns wholly with its inhabitant and their unique circumstances. For single dwellers, priorities vary and shift dramatically. Social spaces like dining rooms or expansive living areas might be necessary for someone who hosts a lot of social gatherings but not so much for someone in a location simply for work. Similarly, drastic career and lifestyle changes are more common in the life of a single dweller. When designing within these parameters, functionality becomes hyper-specific, becoming tailored to hobbies and routines. Pull up bar in the kitchen? Sure, why not? Standing desk in the bedroom? Go right ahead. But always consider the need for change and adaptability. Traditional boundaries and expectations can be thrown out the window to make way for complete personalization. The possibilities for interior designers and architects are intriguing and vast.

Tahanan Supportive Housing by David Baker Architects, San Francisco, California | Photos by Bruce Damonte

However, as much as solo living celebrates individuality, it also raises questions about connection and community. For many, living alone doesn’t mean a desire to actually be alone. With this in mind architects and planners are responding with co-living developments. These projects feature smaller, private units while making way for additional communal amenities like co-working areas, coffee shops, gyms and gardens.

By focusing on shared amenities and reducing the footprint of individual apartments, many co-living developments can offer lower prices for those joining the property market as single renters or buyers. Additionally, the reduction in space within the home makes areas outside the apartment, like rooftop gardens and shared courtyards, more valuable to the owner and encourages interaction with neighbors.

There is still a long way to go. Many traditional social housing models prioritize larger family homes, and governments and planners must address the lack of affordable, well-designed units for single occupants. A shortfall is commonly experienced by young professionals and lower-income individuals, for whom living alone remains an aspirational yet often unattainable goal.

Apartment House Koya by OOS, Andermatt, Switzerland | Photos by OOS

Like most societal shifts, solo living is coming under scrutiny. The decline of traditional family structures has raised concerns by some about the breakdown of informal care networks and cultural continuity. Families once functioned as economic units, pooling resources and providing support across generations. Without these structures, some policymakers worry about economic strain as individuals reject or are unable to bear the burden of additional dependents in the home. In countries with low birth rates, solo living has been blamed—though not proven—for contributing to demographic challenges like population decline.

However, despite this, many cities are beginning to adopt promising models. By including affordable one-bedroom flats and studios in their public housing developments, they are ensuring that solo living can be both accessible and dignified. Elsewhere, modular housing and subsidized co-living spaces are emerging as scalable solutions.

As solo living expands, architects and designers face both challenges and opportunities. How do you create spaces that are deeply personal yet highly adaptable? How can homes for one address and not exacerbate the burgeoning loneliness crisis? And how can the choice of living alone be available and affordable for anyone who wishes to? These questions demand a rethinking of the home—not only as a physical structure but also as a societal structure.

The 13th A+Awards invites firms to submit a range of timely new categories, emphasizing architecture that balances local innovation with global vision. Your projects deserve the spotlight, so start your submission today!

The post Home Alone: Exploring the Architecture of Solo Living appeared first on Journal.

Crowdsourced Design: Building Communities Through Participation and Collaboration

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!

There’s a joke that goes: “A camel is a horse designed by a committee.” It’s lumpy and bumpy and doesn’t make sense. A horse would, of course, be a better choice, no? Well, not if you’re a nomad traveling through the desert.

In 2024, design by committee is becoming commonplace, and the resulting architecture is up for debate. The internet, neighborhood workshops and global competitions are giving the crowd a louder voice than ever before. It’s messy, democratic, and reshaping how buildings come to life.

Participatory design is not new. Architects have long engaged communities in consultations, especially for civic or public-facing projects. However, in recent years, the tools and scale have shifted dramatically. The rise of social media, forums and structured competitions have introduced new ways for communities, users and architecture enthusiasts to weigh in on design proposals before they’re realized. It’s a shift that reflects the culture we currently live in. We vote on reality shows, instagram polls and share opinions without a second thought, it was inevitable then, that architecture, too, would be pulled into collective conversations.

Boston City Hall Public Spaces Renovation by Utile, Inc., Boston, Massechusetts| Photos by Anton Grassl

Boston City Hall Plaza is an example that shows how engaging with the public can rehabilitate even the most contentious of spaces. Its Brutalist architecture, iconic yet polarizing, once alienated the citizens of Beantown. Through the “Re-invent City Hall Plaza” initiative, the redesign team invited public input to shape the space’s key features. The result? A space that is more accessible, more welcoming, and more usable. Enhanced pathways, energy-efficient lighting and new seating areas transformed it from an imposing relic into a lively civic center. By engaging the people it was meant to serve, the project reconnected a landmark to its community.

Meyer Memorial Trust Headquarters by LEVER Architecture, Portland, Oregon | Photos by Jeremy Bittermann

Of course, not all participatory processes happen in public workshops. Meyer Memorial Trust Headquarters in Portland took a more internal approach, involving the foundation’s staff in every stage of its design. Built in the historically Black Albina neighborhood, the building reflects the trust’s mission of equity and sustainability. Its welcoming “front porch” and public event spaces extend Meyer’s commitment to community engagement, while the design — shaped by significant staff input — meets practical needs and embodies shared values. Even its material choices celebrate the regional and cultural context.

Yet, participatory design is not without its pitfalls. Platforms like Instagram, where aesthetics dominate, risk prioritizing what looks good over what truly works. Public votes on design elements, such as colors, shapes or layouts, can lead to spaces that photograph beautifully or that follow contemporary aesthetic trends yet fail to meet practical needs or consider budget restraints. The study of architecture is long and difficult for a reason, and each potential building’s unique complexity must be considered as a whole.

Even in structured settings, participatory design raises questions about expertise and authorship. Who gets credit for a building co-created by architects, residents and consultants? Can public input replace years of training in balancing function, form and materials? Architects, after all, solve problems, predict behaviors and navigate regulations. Public participation must be balanced with professional judgment to avoid designs that dilute creativity or compromise integrity.

O de L’Erdre by Claas Architects, Nantes, France

Public housing is one area where participatory design is gathering speed. It can be a complicated industry, with residents’ actual needs often being overlooked or ignored because of budgets, gaps in understanding of the local cultural environment or single-minded design vision. Thankfully, that is changing; in Nantes, Ô de l’Erdre, the power of participatory housing design is clear as day. Future residents worked alongside Claas Architectes to shape their potential homes, from individual layouts to shared spaces. Together, the teams created a collaborative vision of community that resulted in a design combining privacy with community. The tiered timber construction allows for private terraces and a sense of individuality while providing strong neighborly connections.

Technology has made collaboration easier, but the cultural demand for transparency and inclusion is just as important. People no longer want to live, work, or gather in spaces that feel imposed upon them. They want to feel invested in the places they inhabit and see their identities reflected in the landscape around them.

Mercat del Peix Research Center by Double Twist and ZGF Architects, Barcelona, Spain | Jury Winner, Unbuilt Institutional, 12th Annual A+Awards 

While localized engagement drives some projects, global competitions offer a different kind of participation. Barcelona’s Mercat del Peix Research Center is the product of an international design competition, drawing proposals from ten countries. This approach allows for a much broader spectrum of ideas and provides opportunities for smaller or less well-established design practices to showcase their work. It has the potential for designs to be backed on a more democratic basis, with the best design being approved rather than the biggest name.

Currently under construction, the winning scheme by ZGF and MIRAG/Double Twist is designed to bridge scientific research and public engagement. Public spaces like a gallery, rooftop gardens, and STEM-focused makerspaces are integrated into the complex, allowing the community to connect with the groundbreaking work happening within.

While useful, in many cases, participatory design is unlikely to replace traditional architecture, but it doesn’t need to. Projects like the Mercat del Peix and Ô de l’Erdre show how collaborative processes can deliver results that are both innovative and deeply personal. Meanwhile, initiatives like Boston City Hall Plaza and Meyer Memorial Trust Headquarters prove that even established spaces and institutions can serve their communities better when they are invited to contribute and collaborate.

Architects don’t have to give up control, but opening the conversation can create something much more meaningful when the project is right for it. Even the best architect in the world, without all the information, might specify a horse when, in fact, it’s a camel that is required, so why not just ask and find out?

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 Crowdsourced Design: Building Communities Through Participation and Collaboration appeared first on Journal.

How a Diverse Portfolio of Architectural Projects Unlocks the Wisdom of Travel

Ema is a trained architect, writer and photographer who works as a Junior Architect at REX in NYC. Inspired by her global experiences, she shares captivating insights into the world’s most extraordinary cities and buildings and provides travel tips on her blog, The Travel Album.

Architecture is often seen as the art of creating spaces, but at its core, it is also a profound act of storytelling — an interpretation of the cultural and historical essence of a place. Each design tells a story not only of its function but also of the people, traditions and environment that shape it. I believe that for architects, working on projects in unfamiliar and different locations can be as transformative as traveling. Both experiences demand an openness to the unfamiliar, a respect for local traditions, and a willingness to learn from the surroundings. They challenge preconceived notions and inspire innovative solutions, fostering a deeper connection between design and the diverse tapestry of human experience.


Architecture as a Two-Way Exchange

Pabellón 3E, Yuc., Mexico by TACO Taller de Arquitectura Contextual

Just as a traveler learns to navigate new landscapes, tastes and customs, architects immersed in foreign projects confront the subtleties of cultural expectations, site-specific constraints and regional craftsmanship. Designing a library in Tokyo, for instance, requires an understanding of Japan’s spatial philosophies and reverence for light and shadow, while constructing a community center in Mexico may draw deeply on vibrant colors and the centrality of outdoor living. These lessons — rooted in context and sensitivity — shape not just the final design but also the architect’s worldview.

In a way, architecture becomes a two-way exchange: the design adapts to reflect the spirit of its environment, while the designer absorbs lessons that redefine their creative process. The result is not merely a structure but a living testament to the dialogue between cultures. Like travel, such experiences leave a lasting imprint, enriching not only the places we create but also the people we become. Architecture, at its best, is a deeply human endeavor that bridges the physical world with the cultural, historical, and emotional layers of a place. Just as travel exposes us to new perspectives and enriches our understanding of the world, working on a diverse portfolio of architectural projects offers a similar transformation. For architects, engaging with projects in varied locations and cultures isn’t just about creating buildings; it’s about creating connections and learning lessons that shape both professional and personal growth.


The Parallels Between Travel and Designing Across Cultures

House of the Big Arch South Africa by FrankiePappas

Travel is often celebrated for its ability to broaden horizons. It challenges us to adapt to unfamiliar environments, embrace different customs, and appreciate new ways of living. Architecture, when approached with a similar openness, offers the same rewards. Designing for clients from diverse cultural backgrounds or creating spaces in vastly different environments requires an architect to step outside their comfort zone and approach each project with fresh eyes. For instance, consider the difference between designing a home in the dense, vertical cities of East Asia versus a sprawling ranch in the wide-open landscapes of the American Midwest. Beyond just technical adaptations, the architect must understand the cultural values tied to these spaces, such as the importance of communal living in Japan’s compact layouts or the celebration of solitude and vastness in the rural U.S. These insights are not just professional skills; they are cultural lessons that stay with an architect long after the project ends.

The House of the Big Arch by Frankie Pappas in South Africa demonstrates how architecture, like travel, thrives on adapting to and embracing unfamiliar contexts. Designed to weave through a private nature reserve, the house honors the land’s ecological and cultural significance, showing how architects can learn from and respect their environment. Much like understanding communal living in a dense city or solitude in rural landscapes, this project reflects South Africa’s ethos of environmental stewardship. By letting the site guide the design, it offers lessons in humility and cultural insight that extend beyond the project, proving that architecture, like travel, is a journey of empathy and discovery.


Working With Diverse Clients: A Masterclass in Human Connection

Camp Sarika by Amangiri Canyon Point, UT, United States by Luxury Frontiers

Travel often fosters empathy by exposing us to diverse perspectives, teaching us to connect with people whose experiences and values differ from our own. Similarly, architects grow profoundly when working with clients from varied cultural and social backgrounds. These collaborations require more than technical expertise—they demand the ability to truly listen, adapt, and translate intangible aspirations into tangible spaces. Every project becomes a cultural exchange, where understanding the client’s traditions, values, and needs shapes the design’s authenticity. For instance, Camp Sarika by Amangiri in Canyon Point, Utah, exemplifies how architecture can thoughtfully balance universal appeal with cultural and environmental specificity. Nestled in a breathtaking desert landscape, the design embraces the raw beauty of its surroundings while delivering a luxurious experience. The camp’s tented pavilions blend into the rugged terrain, using natural materials and soft, earthy tones that echo the desert’s palette. Rather than overt cultural motifs, the design focuses on connecting guests to the natural world. Expansive views, minimalist interiors, and the careful positioning of structures allow the dramatic landscape to take center stage. This subtle approach respects the environment while creating a serene retreat for a global clientele seeking a deep connection to the land.

These experiences teach architects to navigate the delicate balance between universal design principles and cultural specificity. They develop a sensitivity that allows them to create spaces that resonate deeply with their users, reflecting not only functional needs but also emotional and cultural narratives. Ultimately, this cross-cultural engagement enriches an architect’s approach, turning each project into a journey of connection, discovery, and shared understanding.


Learning From Local Contexts: The Architect as a Cultural Observer

Laayoune Technology School, Morocco by El Kabbaj - Kettani - Siana - Architects

Travelers often marvel at the details of a new place — the texture of cobblestones underfoot, the rhythm of daily life, or the interplay of light and shadow in a market square. Architects working in unfamiliar locations must similarly become keen observers, immersing themselves in the local context to inform their designs. Take, for instance, the use of local materials. In the sun-baked regions of Morocco, earth-based construction techniques like rammed earth walls naturally regulate temperature, offering both sustainability and cultural authenticity. In contrast, the wood-heavy structures of Nordic countries celebrate the abundant forests and connection to nature. An architect who studies and incorporates these local traditions gains not just practical knowledge but also a deeper respect for the ingenuity embedded in regional design practices.

Situated in the arid climate of southern Morocco, the Laayoune Technology School project draws inspiration from traditional Moroccan construction techniques and the desert environment, demonstrating a profound understanding of local materials and cultural practices. The architects utilized earthy tones and textures that harmonize with the surrounding landscape, creating a building that feels like a natural extension of its environment. The use of courtyards, shaded walkways, and thick walls is not only practical for managing the region’s intense heat but also reflects the spatial strategies found in traditional Moroccan architecture. These design elements ensure thermal comfort while paying homage to the cultural and environmental ingenuity of the region.


The Professional and Personal Growth of a Globally Minded Architect

National Museum of Qatar, Doha, Qatar by L'Observatoire International

Just as travel changes the way we see the world, working on diverse projects reshapes the way architects approach design by pushing them beyond their comfort zones. Each new project presents unique challenges — different climates, materials, cultural norms and client expectations — that demand fresh, creative responses. This process not only sharpens an architect’s adaptability but also broadens their understanding of how architecture can truly serve human needs in varying contexts.

More importantly, this journey instills a deep sense of humility. Architects learn that they are not just designers but collaborators in a much larger narrative, one that includes the history, culture, and essence of a place. Every design decision becomes a conversation with its surroundings, ensuring the resulting spaces resonate with authenticity and purpose. This mindset transforms projects into opportunities for personal growth, as architects must listen, adapt, and immerse themselves in perspectives different from their own. This growth extends beyond the professional realm. Architects who embrace a diverse portfolio often find that their personal lives are similarly enriched. Lessons in collaboration, patience, and cultural appreciation influence how they approach relationships and interactions, fostering a deeper empathy and understanding of others. In this way, the act of designing becomes not just about creating buildings but also about building a more thoughtful, connected way of engaging with the world.


Designing With a Traveler’s Spirit

In both architecture and travel, the journey is as important as the destination. Gaining experience working on projects in different locations, with clients from varied backgrounds, is a journey of discovery — one that mirrors the transformative power of travel. It’s about more than building structures; it’s about building connections, understanding cultures and leaving each place a little better than you found it. For architects, this approach not only enhances their designs but also shapes them into global citizens, capable of weaving the threads of diverse stories into meaningful spaces. Just as every trip changes the traveler, every project in a new place leaves an indelible mark on the architect, proving that the world itself is the greatest classroom for those willing to explore.

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The post How a Diverse Portfolio of Architectural Projects Unlocks the Wisdom of Travel appeared first on Journal.

Beyond Architectural Mood Boards: Theorizing Spaces that Adapt to Human Emotion

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!

I have always found the concept of a “mood board” quite limiting. The idea behind it is to create a visual presentation that conveys the mood and emotion an architect or designer wants to achieve through their work. It is often comprised of a carefully curated selection of textures, colors, objects, real or imaginary spaces and even writing. Nevertheless, the result, in my opinion, always appears somewhat static and rigid, the opposite of what human emotions usually are.

Emotional architecture, or rather creating architecture that responds to human emotion has been tormenting architects for countless years. It is one thing to design a space in hopes of evoking certain emotional responses, but it is another thing entirely to design a space that responds to the turbulent mood swings of its occupants. What would that look like? Would it be a neutral space filled with sensors that can detect changes in mood by collecting biometric data (facial expression, heart rate or brain activity) and then adjust the spatial form, color or lighting accordingly? Would the people themselves input commands to a central server, thus controlling their environment more effectively?

In truth, there is no architectural project that has been realized so far that shows the way of implementing such an ambition. However, there have been substantial ideas and research that tackle broader questions of inhabitation and participatory design, where a person is viewed as a catalyst in the responsive process of building.

Fun Palace for Joan Littlewood is a visionary project conceived by British architect Cedric Price in the 1960s. The project was characterized as a “laboratory of fun” and “a university of the streets,” designed as a flexible structure in which programmable spaces can be plugged in, thus altering the design according to the user’s needs. The difference between Fun Place and other kinetic structures is that it prioritizes freedom, flexibility and fun, exploring notions of anticipatory architecture rather than an architecture that directs movements, emotions and moments of interaction. It reflects Price’s personal vision of a city that has an obligation to encourage playfulness and spontaneity, serving the general public through the use of inventive technology.

Another example is New Babylon, the anti-capitalist city conceived by visual artist Constant Nieuwenhuys in-between 1959-1974. Comprised of a series of linked transformable structures, New Babylon is home to homo ludens, i.e., man at play, who is free to live his life in any way he wants, liberated from any societal constraints, i.e., the shackles of work, family life, or any civic responsibility. Constant’s philosophy advocates that by letting homo ludens roam free, he himself would seek to explore and transform his environment according to his ever-changing needs. As a result, the Dutch painter made sure to create a world that is equally adaptable and responsive.

Albeit not explicitly or emotionally responsive, these two projects hold one part of the equation to creating a new “breed” of responsive architecture. They both propose spatial systems that prioritize anticipation rather than direction, introducing terms like “fun” and “desire” in their designs. The other part of the equation, however, is creating the necessary technologies in order to be able to externalize and implement the emotional synergies occurring between humans and structures. For instance, smart material developments such as shape-memory alloys, electro-active polymers and even programmable materials can expand, contract or change properties is response to electrical or thermal stimuli, thus making it plausible to physically transform buildings.

The Blur Building by Diller Scofidio + Renfro

The Blur Building by Diller Scofidio + Renfro, Yverdon-les-Bains, Switzerland

Two projects by Diller Scofidio + Renfro have given us a glimpse of what these technologies might look like. The Blur Building, an architecture of atmosphere, is a structure that appears to be a fog mass resulting from both natural and manmade forces. To achieve this effect, water is pumped from Lake Neuchatel, filtered, and shot as a fine mist through 35,000 high-pressure nozzles. It is essentially a smart weather system that reads the surrounding climatological conditions of temperature, humidity, wind speed and direction and regulates water pressure at a variety of zones. Its materiality evades any definition, appearing as formless, featureless, depthless, scaleless, massless, surfaceless, and dimensionless, therefore allowing the visitors to craft their own spatial narrative.

In parallel, the Shed is a project that seems as nothing less than definitive. It is a cultural centre and entertainment hall that accommodates an audience of 1,200 seated or 2,700 standing, since the shell’s entire ceiling operates as an expandable and contractable skin which rolls on custom rails through the use of adapting gantry crane technology. Diller Scofidio + Renfro write, “the Shed takes inspiration, architecturally, from the Fun Palace, the influential but unrealized building-machine conceived by British architect Cedric Price and theatre director Joan Littlewood in the 1960s. Like its precursor, The Shed’s open infrastructure can be permanently flexible for an unknowable future and responsive to variability in scale, media, technology, and the evolving needs of artists.”

The Shed by Diller Scofidio + Renfro

The Shed by Diller Scofidio + Renfro, New York City, New York

Going back to the (mood) board, I do wonder whether these projects are outlines for a larger, more groundbreaking proposition: the creation and utilization of “mood systems.” Instead of creating predetermined compositions through a mood board collage, mood systems could be a series of inconclusive scenarios, made of materials, drawings, technological components and narratives that offer the mailable and transformable systems that Cedric Price, Constant Nieuwenhuys and Diller Scofidio + Renfro so passionately preached for. These mood systems would not seek to dictate specific outcomes but instead provide a framework for continuous adaptation and evolution, serving as a blueprint for environments that are as fluid and unpredictable as the lives they aim to support.

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!

Featured Image: The Blur Building by Diller Scofidio + Renfro, Yverdon-les-Bains, Switzerland

The post Beyond Architectural Mood Boards: Theorizing Spaces that Adapt to Human Emotion appeared first on Journal.

Architecture 101: What is Brutalist Architecture?

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Brutalist architecture provokes strong reactions. It challenges traditional standards of architectural value with its unique character, emphasizing raw concrete surfaces, imposing scale and bold forms. Some see it as a celebration of material, form and function; others perceive it as cold and uninviting. Brutalist architecture hardly goes unnoticed, prompting us to reevaluate how we see and use spaces, ultimately enriching the human experience and leaving a lasting impact.

Brutalism emerged primarily in the late 1940s and gained prominence in the 1950s—1970s. It is known for its bold forms and unapologetic use of raw materials, particularly exposed concrete. Emerging after World War II, Brutalism reflects a desire for honesty in design, emphasizing functionality over ornamentation. The design approach strips buildings to their structural essence, making materials and construction techniques integral elements of the aesthetic. Brutalist buildings often appear monumental and imposing, evoking a sense of strength and permanence in a time of societal rebuilding and modernization post-World War II.


Characteristics of Brutalist Architecture

How is Brutalism associated with Modernism? 

Brutalism is closely associated with Modernism, as both movements focus on functionality and honesty in materials. As a post-war evolution of Modernism, Brutalism maintains its predecessor’s rejection of ornamentation, favoring structural clarity. However, Brutalism differs from Modernism in its aesthetic and material choices. While Modernism often features sleek, minimalist forms with extensive use of glass and steel — as exemplified by the Seagram Building in New York City — Brutalism predominantly embraces raw concrete, resulting in more rugged structures. Modernist constructions, such as the Seagram Building, typically aim for lightness and openness, whereas Brutalist architecture evokes a sense of massiveness and permanence. Despite these differences, both styles promote an architecture that reflects societal needs and values, focusing on functionality and breaking away from historical revival styles.


History of Brutalist Architecture

Seagram Building

Seagram Building (1958), designed by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe and Philip Johnson. New York, New York | Photo by Ken OHYAMA via Wikimedia Commons.

What architectural movements preceded Brutalism and contributed to its development?

The influences of Brutalism are diverse and multifaceted. Modernism, particularly the International Style with its emphasis on functionalism and minimal ornamentation, significantly influenced Brutalism. Le Corbusier’s béton brut (raw concrete) concept inspired Brutalism’s materiality. Bauhaus’s commitment to simple forms, honesty in materials, and theform follows functionprinciple also played a foundational role. Also, the Arts and Crafts movement’s emphasis on material authenticity and craftsmanship contributed to Brutalism’s raw aesthetic, despite their differing scales and approaches.

What events led to the decline of Brutalist architecture?

The decline of Brutalist architecture was driven by several factors. A growing public perception of Brutalism as cold, oppressive, and alienating led to widespread criticism. As urban renewal projects progressed, many Brutalist buildings were associated with social issues like crime and decay, especially in neglected public housing projects. A shift toward more visually inviting, postmodern, and neo-vernacular styles in the 1980s and 1990s also played a role, as architects embraced ornamentation and human-scaled forms. Additionally, the economic challenges of maintaining large concrete structures contributed to the decline, as many Brutalist buildings suffered from wear and corrosion over time.


Examples / Case Studies

Who are the key architects credited with pioneering Brutalism and how did the style adapt regionally?

Regional variation adapted Brutalism’s raw, honest aesthetic to meet specific cultural, climatic, and functional needs.

  • Europe:
    In the United Kingdom and Eastern Bloc countries, Brutalist architecture was typically used for public housing and government buildings. This architecture embodied social progress and functionality ideals, addressing post-war rebuilding efforts. In the United Kingdom, Alison and Peter Smithson led the movement with projects like the Robin Hood Gardens housing development (1972). In Eastern Europe, Karel Prager (Czech Republic) contributed significantly to the movement with projects like the Prague Assembly Building (1966-1974), adapting Brutalism for government and housing projects.
  • Soviet Union:
    Erich Mendelsohn, Leonid Pavlov, and Arkady Mordvinov were associated with Soviet Brutalism, creating massive, imposing buildings that reflected state power.
  • United States:
    Brutalism was embraced for institutional buildings, universities, and urban redevelopment projects, emphasizing monumental forms and functionality. Notable examples include Paul Rudolph’s Yale Art and Architecture Building (1963) and Marcel Breuer’s Whitney Museum of American Art (1966).
  • South America:
    Brutalism emerged in South America as an important architectural style. In Brazil, Lina Bo Bardi’s Museu de Art São Paulo (1968) and, most notably, Oscar Niemeyer’s sculptural buildings, such as the Cathedral of Brazilia (1970) blended the style with regional architectural traditions and environmental considerations. Similarly, Clorindo Testa in Argentina led the movement, integrating Brutalist principles with local adaptations.
  • Tropical Climates:
    Brutalist designs in tropical regions adapted to the climate by incorporating lighter materials and passive cooling strategies. Examples include the works of architects like Le Corbusier in Chandigarh, India.

The Future of Brutalist Architecture

Palace of Assembly, Chandigarh

Palace of Assembly (1951), designed by Le Corbusier. Capitol Complex of Chandigarh, India. | Photo by UnpetitproleX via Wikimedia Commons.

How has public opinion on Brutalism evolved?

In its early years, the style was celebrated for its boldness and revolutionary approach to architecture, especially in post-war rebuilding efforts. However, as the decades passed, Brutalisms massive raw concrete forms, for some viewed as cold and unwelcoming, began to be associated with urban decay, leading to calls for demolition.

More recently, Brutalism has experienced a resurgence, fueled by a nostalgic appreciation for its boldness and an interest in architectural heritage preservation. Brutalism is now seen as a reflection of the post-war social and cultural climate, sparking debates on its architectural value and integration into contemporary urban landscapes.

The styles cultural relevance is evident with a strong presence on social media platforms like Instagram, where accounts like @swiss_brutalism, @brutalism101, @brutalismo_esp, @brutalist_design, @african_brutalism, and @b_r_u_t_a_l_i_z_m demonstrate its enduring popularity in contemporary discourse.

Does Brutalism align with or contradict contemporary sustainability practices?

Brutalism intersects with contemporary sustainability practices in two contrasting ways. On the one hand, its use of raw concrete, a durable and low-maintenance material, aligns with sustainable urban planning principles. Brutalist structures, designed for endurance, require less frequent demolition or rebuilding, which reduces long-term resource consumption.
On the other hand, concrete production has a high carbon footprint and is associated with greenhouse gas emissions, presenting an important environmental challenge. Also, many Brutalist buildings struggle with thermal efficiency, further complicating their sustainability.

Hotel Marcel by Becker + Becker, New Haven, Connecticut | Designed by Marcel Breuer in 1968

How is Brutalism being adapted today and what is the state of conservation efforts?

Today, Brutalism is being reinterpreted in various ways, influencing modern architectural aesthetics and conservation practices. Drawn by Brutalism’s raw, unpolished look, many contemporary architects incorporate raw concrete and exposed structural elements into their designs while blending Brutalist principles with more modern materials and techniques to create buildings that feel more inviting and integrated into their surroundings.

As cities and communities recognize their historical and architectural significance, preservation efforts for Brutalist buildings are increasing. Notable examples include Habitat 67 in Montreal, Canada; the Barbican Estate and Trellick Tower in London, United Kingdom; Boston City Hall in the United States; and the Sirius Building in Sydney, Australia. These projects highlight a growing appreciation for Brutalist architecture as part of our cultural heritage. While some Brutalist buildings face demolition due to neglect, many are being upgraded for modern use while maintaining their distinct raw character. Architects and urban planners can explore how these structures can be reinterpreted to meet contemporary needs by preserving and retrofitting Brutalist buildings, thus bridging their past with a sustainable, inclusive future. A notable example is Marcel Breuer’s Armstrong Rubber Company Building in New Haven, Connecticut, United States, now the Hotel Marcel. After decades of disuse, the building was transformed into the first Passive House-certified hotel in the United States, blending Breuers original vision with cutting-edge sustainability.

How has Brutalism influenced architectural thinking and society at large?

Today, Brutalism encourages the rethinking of architectural values, with an interest in preserving its iconic structures and adapting its principles for a contemporary lifestyle. Its legacy is a testament to architecture’s ability to provoke thought, shape identity, and respond to societal challenges.

Brutalism teaches us that architecture is not just about aesthetic trends. It is a tool for reflecting societal values. Brutalism’s raw materiality, imposing forms, and utilitarian emphasis reflect the post-war need for affordable housing, public infrastructure, and social equity. However, Brutalism also provokes debate by forcing us to question what we value in the built environment and who benefits from it. In this way, Brutalism remains a reminder that architecture is not neutral but a reflection of cultural, political, and economic values.

Architects: Want to have your project featured? Showcase your work through Architizer and sign up for our inspirational newsletters.

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

Architecture 101: What is Brutalist Architecture?

Architects: Want to have your project featured? Showcase your work through Architizer and sign up for our inspirational newsletters.

Brutalist architecture provokes strong reactions. It challenges traditional standards of architectural value with its unique character, emphasizing raw concrete surfaces, imposing scale and bold forms. Some see it as a celebration of material, form and function; others perceive it as cold and uninviting. Brutalist architecture hardly goes unnoticed, prompting us to reevaluate how we see and use spaces, ultimately enriching the human experience and leaving a lasting impact.

Brutalism emerged primarily in the late 1940s and gained prominence in the 1950s—1970s. It is known for its bold forms and unapologetic use of raw materials, particularly exposed concrete. Emerging after World War II, Brutalism reflects a desire for honesty in design, emphasizing functionality over ornamentation. The design approach strips buildings to their structural essence, making materials and construction techniques integral elements of the aesthetic. Brutalist buildings often appear monumental and imposing, evoking a sense of strength and permanence in a time of societal rebuilding and modernization post-World War II.


Characteristics of Brutalist Architecture

How is Brutalism associated with Modernism? 

Brutalism is closely associated with Modernism, as both movements focus on functionality and honesty in materials. As a post-war evolution of Modernism, Brutalism maintains its predecessor’s rejection of ornamentation, favoring structural clarity. However, Brutalism differs from Modernism in its aesthetic and material choices. While Modernism often features sleek, minimalist forms with extensive use of glass and steel — as exemplified by the Seagram Building in New York City — Brutalism predominantly embraces raw concrete, resulting in more rugged structures. Modernist constructions, such as the Seagram Building, typically aim for lightness and openness, whereas Brutalist architecture evokes a sense of massiveness and permanence. Despite these differences, both styles promote an architecture that reflects societal needs and values, focusing on functionality and breaking away from historical revival styles.


History of Brutalist Architecture

Seagram Building

Seagram Building (1958), designed by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe and Philip Johnson. New York, New York | Photo by Ken OHYAMA via Wikimedia Commons.

What architectural movements preceded Brutalism and contributed to its development?

The influences of Brutalism are diverse and multifaceted. Modernism, particularly the International Style with its emphasis on functionalism and minimal ornamentation, significantly influenced Brutalism. Le Corbusier’s béton brut (raw concrete) concept inspired Brutalism’s materiality. Bauhaus’s commitment to simple forms, honesty in materials, and theform follows functionprinciple also played a foundational role. Also, the Arts and Crafts movement’s emphasis on material authenticity and craftsmanship contributed to Brutalism’s raw aesthetic, despite their differing scales and approaches.

What events led to the decline of Brutalist architecture?

The decline of Brutalist architecture was driven by several factors. A growing public perception of Brutalism as cold, oppressive, and alienating led to widespread criticism. As urban renewal projects progressed, many Brutalist buildings were associated with social issues like crime and decay, especially in neglected public housing projects. A shift toward more visually inviting, postmodern, and neo-vernacular styles in the 1980s and 1990s also played a role, as architects embraced ornamentation and human-scaled forms. Additionally, the economic challenges of maintaining large concrete structures contributed to the decline, as many Brutalist buildings suffered from wear and corrosion over time.


Examples / Case Studies

Who are the key architects credited with pioneering Brutalism and how did the style adapt regionally?

Regional variation adapted Brutalism’s raw, honest aesthetic to meet specific cultural, climatic, and functional needs.

  • Europe:
    In the United Kingdom and Eastern Bloc countries, Brutalist architecture was typically used for public housing and government buildings. This architecture embodied social progress and functionality ideals, addressing post-war rebuilding efforts. In the United Kingdom, Alison and Peter Smithson led the movement with projects like the Robin Hood Gardens housing development (1972). In Eastern Europe, Karel Prager (Czech Republic) contributed significantly to the movement with projects like the Prague Assembly Building (1966-1974), adapting Brutalism for government and housing projects.
  • Soviet Union:
    Erich Mendelsohn, Leonid Pavlov, and Arkady Mordvinov were associated with Soviet Brutalism, creating massive, imposing buildings that reflected state power.
  • United States:
    Brutalism was embraced for institutional buildings, universities, and urban redevelopment projects, emphasizing monumental forms and functionality. Notable examples include Paul Rudolph’s Yale Art and Architecture Building (1963) and Marcel Breuer’s Whitney Museum of American Art (1966).
  • South America:
    Brutalism emerged in South America as an important architectural style. In Brazil, Lina Bo Bardi’s Museu de Art São Paulo (1968) and, most notably, Oscar Niemeyer’s sculptural buildings, such as the Cathedral of Brazilia (1970) blended the style with regional architectural traditions and environmental considerations. Similarly, Clorindo Testa in Argentina led the movement, integrating Brutalist principles with local adaptations.
  • Tropical Climates:
    Brutalist designs in tropical regions adapted to the climate by incorporating lighter materials and passive cooling strategies. Examples include the works of architects like Le Corbusier in Chandigarh, India.

The Future of Brutalist Architecture

Palace of Assembly, Chandigarh

Palace of Assembly (1951), designed by Le Corbusier. Capitol Complex of Chandigarh, India. | Photo by UnpetitproleX via Wikimedia Commons.

How has public opinion on Brutalism evolved?

In its early years, the style was celebrated for its boldness and revolutionary approach to architecture, especially in post-war rebuilding efforts. However, as the decades passed, Brutalisms massive raw concrete forms, for some viewed as cold and unwelcoming, began to be associated with urban decay, leading to calls for demolition.

More recently, Brutalism has experienced a resurgence, fueled by a nostalgic appreciation for its boldness and an interest in architectural heritage preservation. Brutalism is now seen as a reflection of the post-war social and cultural climate, sparking debates on its architectural value and integration into contemporary urban landscapes.

The styles cultural relevance is evident with a strong presence on social media platforms like Instagram, where accounts like @swiss_brutalism, @brutalism101, @brutalismo_esp, @brutalist_design, @african_brutalism, and @b_r_u_t_a_l_i_z_m demonstrate its enduring popularity in contemporary discourse.

Does Brutalism align with or contradict contemporary sustainability practices?

Brutalism intersects with contemporary sustainability practices in two contrasting ways. On the one hand, its use of raw concrete, a durable and low-maintenance material, aligns with sustainable urban planning principles. Brutalist structures, designed for endurance, require less frequent demolition or rebuilding, which reduces long-term resource consumption.
On the other hand, concrete production has a high carbon footprint and is associated with greenhouse gas emissions, presenting an important environmental challenge. Also, many Brutalist buildings struggle with thermal efficiency, further complicating their sustainability.

Hotel Marcel by Becker + Becker, New Haven, Connecticut | Designed by Marcel Breuer in 1968

How is Brutalism being adapted today and what is the state of conservation efforts?

Today, Brutalism is being reinterpreted in various ways, influencing modern architectural aesthetics and conservation practices. Drawn by Brutalism’s raw, unpolished look, many contemporary architects incorporate raw concrete and exposed structural elements into their designs while blending Brutalist principles with more modern materials and techniques to create buildings that feel more inviting and integrated into their surroundings.

As cities and communities recognize their historical and architectural significance, preservation efforts for Brutalist buildings are increasing. Notable examples include Habitat 67 in Montreal, Canada; the Barbican Estate and Trellick Tower in London, United Kingdom; Boston City Hall in the United States; and the Sirius Building in Sydney, Australia. These projects highlight a growing appreciation for Brutalist architecture as part of our cultural heritage. While some Brutalist buildings face demolition due to neglect, many are being upgraded for modern use while maintaining their distinct raw character. Architects and urban planners can explore how these structures can be reinterpreted to meet contemporary needs by preserving and retrofitting Brutalist buildings, thus bridging their past with a sustainable, inclusive future. A notable example is Marcel Breuer’s Armstrong Rubber Company Building in New Haven, Connecticut, United States, now the Hotel Marcel. After decades of disuse, the building was transformed into the first Passive House-certified hotel in the United States, blending Breuers original vision with cutting-edge sustainability.

How has Brutalism influenced architectural thinking and society at large?

Today, Brutalism encourages the rethinking of architectural values, with an interest in preserving its iconic structures and adapting its principles for a contemporary lifestyle. Its legacy is a testament to architecture’s ability to provoke thought, shape identity, and respond to societal challenges.

Brutalism teaches us that architecture is not just about aesthetic trends. It is a tool for reflecting societal values. Brutalism’s raw materiality, imposing forms, and utilitarian emphasis reflect the post-war need for affordable housing, public infrastructure, and social equity. However, Brutalism also provokes debate by forcing us to question what we value in the built environment and who benefits from it. In this way, Brutalism remains a reminder that architecture is not neutral but a reflection of cultural, political, and economic values.

Architects: Want to have your project featured? Showcase your work through Architizer and sign up for our inspirational newsletters.

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

Architect’s Guide: Home Design Trends in 2025

Ema is a trained architect, writer and photographer who works as a Junior Architect at REX in NYC. Inspired by her global experiences, she shares captivating insights into the world’s most extraordinary cities and buildings and provides travel tips on her blog, The Travel Album.

Picture this: It’s a crisp January morning in 2025, and the sunlight filters into your home through large, open windows. The room feels alive — not in the chaotic, cluttered way of a busy home, but in the way that warmth emanates from every surface. Your hand brushes against a soft, textured wall as you reach for a cup of coffee. The silver accents of your kitchen fixtures catch the light, glinting against the earthy brick backsplash. This isn’t just a home; it’s a sanctuary — a reflection of who you are and how you live.

This vision is at the heart of the 2025 design trends that are quietly reshaping the spaces we inhabit. For years, homes have been ruled by a stark, almost clinical minimalism — walls so white they felt like blank canvases waiting for someone to finally make them come alive. But now, there’s a shift. The sterile is being replaced by the soulful.


What’s In for Interiors

1. Warm Minimalism: The Evolving Simplicity of Home Design

TERMITARY HOUSE Da Nang, Vietnam by TROPICAL SPACEMinimalism, once synonymous with stark, all-white spaces, is evolving into something more human and inviting. Enter Like maybe”warm minimalism,” a design philosophy that retains the clarity of minimalism but infuses it with warmth through organic textures, earthy tones and subtle contrasts. This evolution isn’t about abandoning minimalism altogether, it’s about making it human.

“Warm minimalism,” as it’s being called, is about creating spaces that feel alive and lived-in without the chaos. It’s the feeling of a linen throw over a streamlined sofa or a kitchen backsplash made from thin, handcrafted bricks that subtly hint at the material’s origins. Warm minimalism is all about contrasts: sleek design paired with organic textures, neutral colors deepened with earthy undertones, and spaces that balance order with soul.

TERMITARY HOUSE Da Nang, Vietnam by TROPICAL SPACE

TERMITARY HOUSE by TROPICAL SPACE, Da Nang, Vietnam

The Feeling of Warmth
Imagine stepping into a living room where the walls are softly textured with grasscloth wallpaper, casting gentle shadows in the late afternoon light. The furniture is minimalist in form but upholstered in warm, tactile fabrics like linen or boucle. A thin brick backsplash in the kitchen adds a rustic yet refined quality, grounding the space. Warm minimalism feels alive. It’s about combining simplicity with comfort, creating spaces that are uncluttered yet deeply personal.

Architectural Applications

  • Textured Walls: Grasscloth, embossed wallpaper or even exposed brick add depth and softness.
  • Natural Finishes: Wood grain flooring, unfinished stone surfaces and lightly polished concrete contribute to a warm, tactile environment.
  • Layered Lighting: Instead of relying on harsh overhead lights, warm minimalism incorporates a mix of floor lamps, sconces and indirect lighting to create an ambient glow.

Why It Resonates
As our homes become extensions of our personalities, warm minimalism offers a way to embrace calm without sacrificing character. It’s a response to the sterile environments of the past, blending simplicity with a sense of belonging.


2. Quiet Luxury: Subtle Sophistication for Everyday Living

Casa Es Carnatge, Palma de Mallorca, Spain by Miel ArquitectosIn another corner of the design world, a subtler movement is taking shape. It’s not flashy, and it doesn’t shout for attention. Quiet luxury is more about the story your home tells, layer by layer, than about ostentation. Imagine walking into a room and feeling its quality, rather than being told about it. A solid wooden dining table polished to show the natural grain. A brick fireplace that grounds the space with its timeless texture. These aren’t elements chosen for their trendiness; they’re selected for their ability to endure, to age gracefully, to feel both modern and eternal. Brick, in particular, is having a renaissance in quiet luxury design. It offers richness without overwhelming a room, acting as both an anchor and an accent. Materials like these — brick, stone, reclaimed wood — create spaces that feel calm and intentional, as if they’ve always been part of the home.

In a world dominated by fast trends and fleeting aesthetics, quiet luxury offers a refuge. This design trend isn’t about ostentation; it’s about quality, craftsmanship and timeless beauty. Quiet luxury doesn’t shout; it whispers elegance.

Casa Es Carnatge, Palma de Mallorca, Spain by Miel Arquitectos

Casa Es Carnatge, Palma de Mallorca, Spain by Miel Arquitectos

Casa Es Carnatge by Miel Arquitectos, Palma de Mallorca, Spain

The Essence of Quiet Luxury
Picture a dining room where a sleek wooden table takes center stage, its surface glowing with the natural grain of the wood. Around it, mid-century modern chairs upholstered in muted, neutral tones provide understated sophistication. A single, large-format piece of art hangs on the wall, adding a focal point without overwhelming the space. The appeal lies in restraint. Each element in the room feels purposeful, selected for its beauty and durability rather than its trendiness.

Materials That Speak

  • Brick: Whether exposed or painted, brick adds a rich, earthy texture that complements a variety of styles. In quiet luxury interiors, brick might appear as an accent wall or even as part of a fireplace.
  • Natural Stone: Marble and limestone lend timeless sophistication, particularly in kitchens and bathrooms.
  • Soft Neutrals: Muted tones like sand, taupe, and stone gray provide a neutral canvas that highlights the quality of materials and craftsmanship.

The Longevity of Quiet Luxury
Unlike fads that fade, quiet luxury is built to last. It aligns with a growing desire for interiors that are not just beautiful but meaningful — a reflection of personal values and a sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world.


3. Living with Nature

Country Estate by Roger Ferris + Partners The connection to nature will be stronger than ever in 2025. Perhaps it’s a reaction to the increasing digitalization of our lives or maybe it’s simply a return to something fundamental: the feeling of being grounded. Biophilic design is about more than just plants. It’s about designing homes that breathe, that feel alive in the way they interact with their surroundings. Picture sunlight pouring through oversized windows, warming floors made of natural bamboo.

Imagine a vertical garden climbing a wall in your living room, its greenery softening the edges of modern furniture. This connection to nature isn’t just aesthetic; it’s practical. Materials like wood, stone and brick are being chosen not only for their beauty but for their sustainability. Homeowners are looking for choices that are kind to the environment, favoring durability and renewability over the disposable trends of years past.

The need to reconnect with nature has never been more urgent, and biophilic design offers a pathway to bring the outdoors inside. More than a trend, it’s a philosophy that centers on wellness, sustainability and a seamless relationship between architecture and the natural world.

Country Estate by Roger Ferris + Partners

Country Estate by Roger Ferris + Partners, Connecticut, United States

The Science of Biophilia
Studies show that exposure to nature — even in small doses — can reduce stress, enhance creativity and improve overall well-being. Biophilic design applies this principle by integrating natural elements into the home, creating environments that promote health and tranquility.

How It Comes to Life

  • Indoor-Outdoor Blends: Large windows, sliding glass doors and atriums dissolve the boundary between inside and out, filling spaces with natural light and views of greenery.
  • Natural Materials: Bamboo flooring, wooden beams and stone accents provide tactile connections to nature. Brick, with its organic texture and earthy tones, is a standout choice for walls and flooring.
  • Living Walls: Vertical gardens bring a literal breath of fresh air into interiors while acting as dynamic design features.

Sustainability Meets Aesthetics
The embrace of natural materials aligns with a broader focus on sustainability. Homeowners are seeking materials that not only look good but also have a minimal environmental footprint. Bamboo, reclaimed wood and sustainably sourced bricks offer beauty and durability while supporting eco-friendly practices.


4. A Touch of Silver: Silver Accents

Stone House in Caceres Cáceres?, Spain by Tuñón ArchitectsAnd then there’s silver. For years, brass and gold have dominated our homes, offering a sense of glamour. But silver is different. It’s quieter, subtler—less about the spotlight and more about the glow. Silver accents are finding their way into kitchens, bathrooms, and living spaces. Imagine a matte silver faucet in a kitchen where earthy brick tones dominate, or silver-framed mirrors reflecting the warmth of a softly lit bedroom. It’s an element that bridges the old and the new, a versatile accent that feels fresh without overshadowing the rest of the room.

After years of brass and gold dominating the design landscape, silver is making a quiet comeback in 2025. Unlike its warmer counterparts, silver offers a sleek, modern elegance that works across a wide range of styles, from traditional to ultra-modern.

Stone House in Caceres Cáceres?, Spain by Tuñón Architects

Stone House by Tuñón Architects, Cáceres?, Spain

The Versatility of Silver
Silver accents can be as bold or as subtle as desired. In a modern kitchen, matte silver cabinet hardware pairs seamlessly with marble countertops and wood cabinetry. In a living room, silver-framed mirrors reflect light and create a sense of openness.

Designing with Silver

  • Pair silver accents with warm wood tones for a balanced, contemporary look.
  • Use silver in lighting fixtures, faucets and even decorative objects like vases or candleholders.
  • Combine with natural materials like stone and brick to soften the coolness of silver and create a harmonious palette.

Why It Works
Silver’s neutrality allows it to act as both a supporting player and a statement piece, adapting to the overall design of the space. Its timeless appeal ensures it will remain a fixture in homes long after the trend fades.


What’s In for Exteriors

EPR House, Guadalajara, Mexico by Luis Aldrete1. Earthy Tones

The shift toward earthy tones in home exteriors marks a significant departure from the dominance of white and cream hues. While neutrals like these remain timeless for their clean and versatile appeal, homeowners are gravitating toward palettes inspired by nature. Deeper grays, muted greens, warm browns and soft terracottas are taking center stage, bringing a sense of depth and grounding to exterior designs.

EPR House, Guadalajara, Mexico by Luis Aldrete

EPR House by Luis Aldrete, Guadalajara, Mexico

The Psychology Behind Earthy Tones
Earthy colors evoke a sense of well-being and tranquility, connecting a home to its natural surroundings. These tones mirror the colors of forests, deserts, and mountains, creating a visual dialogue between the structure and its environment. For homeowners, this translates to spaces that feel harmonious and inviting — designs that welcome both inhabitants and visitors alike.

Architectural Applications

  • Stone and Brick Façades: Materials like slate-gray stone or brownish-red brick bring an inherent warmth and texture to façades, emphasizing the natural beauty of the raw materials.
  • Painted Exteriors: Muted greens or terracotta tones on wooden or stucco walls add subtle sophistication and blend seamlessly with landscaping.
  • Roofing and Accents: Deep gray or earthy-toned roofs create a cohesive aesthetic, while muted red window trims or natural wood door frames act as eye-catching accents.

Challenges and Considerations
Designing with earthy tones requires a nuanced understanding of their interaction with light and surroundings. In regions with intense sunlight, muted shades can look washed out, whereas darker tones can absorb too much heat. Architects must also consider the environmental context, ensuring that the color palette complements the local landscape.


2. Mixed Textures: Layering Depth and Character

House in Takamatsu Takamatsu, Japan by Yasunari Tsukada DesignTexture is a powerful design tool that goes beyond visual aesthetics, offering tactile and structural qualities that enrich the experience of a building. For 2025, mixing materials on exteriors (and interiors) has become a defining trend, creating a layered, multidimensional look that’s as functional as it is beautiful.

Why Texture Matters
Textured exteriors add depth and interest, transforming flat, monotonous facades into dynamic compositions. By juxtaposing materials like brick, wood, metal, and glass, architects can highlight structural elements, create focal points and even improve energy efficiency.

Popular Material Pairings

  • Brick and Glass: This combination offers a modern industrial look, with brick providing warmth and durability, while glass introduces transparency and lightness. A common application is a brick-clad home punctuated by large glass windows or curtain walls.
  • Wood and Metal: The natural warmth of wood pairs beautifully with sleek, cool metals like steel or aluminum. This blend is often seen in rustic-modern designs, where wooden siding softens the industrial feel of metal accents.
  • Concrete and Stone: These materials create a minimalist aesthetic with a touch of luxury, often used in contemporary designs that prioritize clean lines and natural textures.

Designing for Durability
Mixed-material exteriors aren’t just about aesthetics — they also improve structural performance. For example, combining brick with wood cladding allows architects to balance the thermal mass of brick with the insulating properties of wood. Similarly, incorporating glass into a façade can reduce energy costs by maximizing natural light.

Tips for Harmonious Integration

  • Focus on a cohesive color palette to tie disparate materials together.
  • Use textures strategically to highlight key architectural elements, like entryways or cantilevered sections.
  • Consider the maintenance requirements of each material and how they age over time to ensure long-term appeal.

3. Sustainable and Resilient Materials

Shor House, Mayne Island, Canada by Measured Architecture Inc.At the heart of these trends is a deepening commitment to sustainability. Homeowners are no longer just asking, “What looks good?” They’re asking, “What lasts?” Brick, with its natural origins and timeless appeal, is a perfect example. Made from clay or shale, it’s durable, energy-efficient, and recyclable. Other materials, like bamboo and reclaimed wood, offer similar benefits, combining beauty with eco-consciousness. The result is homes that feel good to live in — and good to live with.

The Rise of Brick as a Sustainable Material
Brick, a time-tested building material, is experiencing a resurgence thanks to its sustainability credentials. Made from natural resources like clay or shale, brick is energy-efficient, long-lasting and recyclable. It requires minimal maintenance and offers excellent thermal performance, reducing heating and cooling costs.

  • Recyclability and Longevity: Brick structures can last for centuries, and when demolished, bricks can often be reused or crushed for new applications.
  • Energy Efficiency: Brick walls provide thermal mass, helping to regulate indoor temperatures and reduce energy consumption.
Shor House, Mayne Island, Canada by Measured Architecture Inc.

Shor House by Measured Architecture Inc., Mayne Island, Canada

Other Sustainable Materials in Focus

  • Reclaimed Wood: Salvaged from old buildings or barns, reclaimed wood reduces demand for new lumber while adding unique character to exteriors.
  • Bamboo: A rapidly renewable resource, bamboo is being used for siding and decking in eco-conscious designs.
  • Green Roofs: Vegetative roofs not only insulate buildings but also reduce urban heat islands and improve air quality.
  • Metal Roofing: Durable and recyclable, metal roofs are a popular choice for homeowners seeking long-lasting, low-maintenance options.

Designing with Resilience
Sustainability in exterior design goes hand in hand with resilience. Homes must withstand climate change impacts such as extreme weather, temperature fluctuations and rising energy costs. Materials like brick, concrete and metal offer durability and protection against these challenges, ensuring homes remain functional and aesthetically pleasing for decades.

Challenges in Sustainability
While sustainable materials are increasingly accessible, architects must balance cost considerations with environmental benefits. Additionally, sourcing reclaimed or recycled materials may require more time and effort than traditional options, but the long-term benefits — both ecological and economic — are worth the investment.


The Story Behind the Trends

These trends aren’t coming out of nowhere. They’re the result of a careful dance between data and intuition, between what people are asking for and what designers know they’ll need. Having had help from an expert in architectural materials at Glen-Gery, they have taken a particularly thoughtful approach to identifying these trends. Through surveys, direct engagement with architects and designers, and a deep dive into customer preferences, they’ve crafted a vision of 2025 that feels both grounded and aspirational. Their “2025 Brick Color of the Year,” a matte gray called Silver City, embodies the balance of elegance and versatility that defines this year’s design ethos. It’s a color that works with every palette, every texture, every space—exactly the kind of timeless choice that 2025 is all about.

As the new year unfolds, one thing is clear: 2025 isn’t just about how homes look. It’s about how they feel—how they make us feel. It’s about stepping into a room and feeling a sense of calm, knowing that every element has been chosen with care. It’s about walking up to a house and seeing not just a structure but a story. And it’s about creating spaces that honor the world around us while embracing the lives we live within them. This is the future of design—a future that feels like home.

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 Architect’s Guide: Home Design Trends in 2025 appeared first on Journal.

Between Isolation and Innovation: Navigating Brexit’s Impact on the UK’s Design Industry

The 13th A+Awards invites firms to submit a range of timely new categories, emphasizing architecture that balances local innovation with global vision. Your projects deserve the spotlight, so start your submission today!

In 2016, Brexit was sold to the people of the United Kingdom as a chance to ‘take back control;’ however, for the UK’s design industry, it feels more like the brakes have been slammed on a speeding train. Once a central hub of global creativity that was connected to European collaborators, British design now finds itself caught in a web of tariffs, red tape and cultural isolation. The question is: can a nation so dependent on the free flow of ideas and materials thrive when its lifelines to the continent have been severed?

The architecture and design industries in the UK are worth over £36 billion annually and employ nearly 580,000 people. They have, for centuries, been seen as a crown jewel of British creativity. Pre-Brexit, the sector thrived in a European ecosystem where materials, talent and ideas flowed freely across borders. Yet, since January 2021, the industry has faced a series of challenges that have left it diminished in influence and capability.

Perth Museum by Mecanoo, Perth, United Kingdom | Photo by  Greg Holmes Photography

One of the biggest issues is materials. Being an island, Britain imports a significant percentage of its construction materials — up to 60% in some sectors. With the introduction of Brexit, tariffs were introduced, customs delays became standard and regulatory divergence is found around every corner. Each of these issues has driven up costs across the industry. A report from the Construction Leadership Council in late 2023 noted that imported timber now costs an average of 25% more than it did before Brexit, largely due to added bureaucracy at borders. Italian marble suppliers, once reliable partners to British designers, now report delays of up to six weeks, forcing firms to adjust timelines and increase budgets.

It isn’t just materials that are in short supply. Talent, once abundant thanks to the ease of hiring EU professionals, is now a pressing concern for design firms. Before Brexit, roughly 30% of architects working in London were from the EU. By 2022, the Architects Registration Board reported a 42% decline in EU architects registering to work in the UK, leaving firms scrambling to fill vacancies. Even large practices with iconic names report projects being slowed by recruitment challenges.

355 – 359 Strand by White Red, Covent Garden, London, United Kingdom.

The architectural profession suffers particularly from what has been referred to as a “Brexit brain drain.” Experienced designers who would once have flocked to London are now choosing Berlin, Copenhagen or Amsterdam, where their skills are equally in demand but the administrative hurdles are far fewer. The UK government’s introduction of a points-based immigration system has been criticized for failing to address the specific needs of creative industries, with many questioning, “Who’s going to take a job in London when Paris is an hours train ride away?”

These issues ripple outward, impacting not just firms but the UK’s cultural and economic standing on the world stage. British design was once a key presence at international events like Salone del Mobile in Milan and Maison et Objet in Paris. Since Brexit, attendance has plummeted — not for lack of interest, but because of logistical barriers. For example, transporting exhibition materials now involves navigating customs declarations, ATA Carnets, and duties, turning participation into an expensive endeavor for many smaller studios and suppliers.

Meanwhile, major European events that were once fertile ground for collaborations now feel emptier without the UK’s contributions. Milan Design Week 2023 saw a 40% drop in British exhibitors compared to 2018, and conversations at the event reflected a growing perception that British design, while still respected, is increasingly insular.

Closer to home, efforts to counteract this decline have had mixed results. Clerkenwell Design Week, an annual fixture in London, has gained traction as a platform for showcasing British talent. Yet, as some exhibitors have pointed out, “It’s preaching to the choir — what we need is to be out in the world, not just talking to each other.”

Chelsea Waterfront by Farrells, London, United Kingdom | Visual by Farrells.

In contrast, pro-Brexit voices often highlight this time as an opportunity for reinvention. The argument goes that severing ties with Europe forces the UK to innovate and look inward in the hope of bringing about a renaissance of British craftsmanship and skill. There are some glimmers of hope. A renewed interest in local materials — such as Cumbrian slate and Cornish granite is sought to reduce project timescales, and advocates also point to the potential for stronger ties with non-European markets, including the Gulf States and Asia, where British design is held in high regard.

But these gains come with caveats. Local materials, while aesthetically valuable and climate-conscious, cannot always meet the volume and diversity needs of larger projects. While new markets are promising, the environmental impact of sourcing further away is huge and doesn’t compensate for the ease and scale of doing business within the EU. Critics argue that what some see as “opportunities” are, in reality, costly adaptations to a self-imposed problem.

Throughout it all, the question of cultural isolation looms large. Design, by its nature, thrives on collaboration and exchange. British architecture has historically benefited from its role as a bridge between the traditions of Europe and the experimental ethos of America. Brexit threatens to sever that connection, leaving British design caught between two worlds but fully embraced by neither.

Yet, the UK’s design industry is nothing if not resilient. Firms are finding creative ways to adapt, whether by exploring new supply chains, embracing digital collaboration tools, or doubling down on the uniqueness of British design heritage. But these adaptations are reactive, not proactive, and they underscore the broader reality: Brexit has fundamentally changed the rules of the game and, so far, not for the better.

So, where does the industry go from here? Can British design emerge from the ashes and rediscover its place in a world that thrives on interconnectivity, or will it settle into a diminished role on the global stage? The answer may depend not just on the ingenuity and talent of the designers themselves but on whether the UK government is willing to recognize and address the unique needs of an industry that has always punched above its weight.

Whatever the future holds, one thing is certain: the path forward will require the same mix of creativity, pragmatism and sheer stubbornness that has always defined English, Scottish, Irish and Welsh design.

The 13th A+Awards invites firms to submit a range of timely new categories, emphasizing architecture that balances local innovation with global vision. Your projects deserve the spotlight, so start your submission today!

The post Between Isolation and Innovation: Navigating Brexit’s Impact on the UK’s Design Industry appeared first on Journal.