‘I don’t really agree with the idea of utopianism,’ Sir Peter Cook tells designboom editor-in-chief, Sofia Lekka Angelopoulou, during our live conversation at the stage of the Basque Country International Architecture Biennial, Mugak/2025.

Curated by architect, researcher, and curator María Arana Zubiate, the biennial unfolds under the theme of Castles in the Air, or How to Build Utopia Today, exploring whether visionary thinking still has a place in an age dominated by pragmatism. The legendary architect and co-founder of Archigram participates in the exhibition with two projects – Plug-in City from 1964 and the more recent Filter City – presented as part of the section Escape Utopias alongside New Babylon by Constant, and Exodus and Hyperbuilding by Rem Koolhaas. 

Although many of his projects, including the Kunsthaus Museum in Graz, Austria, and the Drawing Studio for Arts University Bournemouth, have been realized, Cook’s most important tool remains drawing. Through fantastical, colorful drawings that express his visionary ideas of what cities could look like, he has influenced and inspired architecture and architectural thinking over the past six decades.

Sir Peter Cook and Sofia Lekka Angelopoulou at the stage of Mugak/2025

from ‘pie-in-the-skY SCHEMES’ to architectural reality

The British architect does not perceive the imaginary visions of his drawings as something separate to what might be buildable. ‘It is usual to say that there is the utopian world, and put a box around it, and then there’s the real world,’ he explains during our conversation. ‘In a lot of architecture schools, the professor will say, don’t look at that, it’s just a utopian idea, it has nothing to do with what can be done. And I think professors are often the worst offenders, because the fact that it might be buildable makes them slightly nervous. What do we tell the kids then?’

‘I don’t think there’s any dividing line. One day, I was chatting in the street with Rem Koolhaas, who used to live near me, and we were going through all the people we remembered at the Architectural Association who had been dismissed, including ourselves, as drawers. Drawing people who made these pie-in-the-sky schemes. And we listed about 20 of them, including ourselves, who had built. But it was very comfortable to say there’s utopia, and then there’s proper building.’

Here, Cook returns to a recurring theme in his thinking, that the distance between speculation and construction is far thinner than most assume.‘Had something like the Kunsthaus Museum in Graz been shown as a drawing, people would say, ah, yes, but it’s not a real building. And then it’s there, you can walk inside it, have a pee inside it, and put an exhibition inside it. It’s a building, like buildings are.

You can say that there are certain parts of it that are very normal, but there is no dividing line. And I still feel that quite vehemently. Just as it amused me to do the drawing that showed the Play Pavilion in London as a piece of Instant City. Because you could have taken that pavilion, put it in the Instant City drawing and say, oh, yes, that’s just a piece of it. I‘m not saying absolutely every drawing is 100% buildable, but it’s a bloody sight more buildable than people like to give it room for. And I think the connection is important.’ 

Kunsthaus Graz, bird’s-eye view | image Zepp-Cam. 2004/Graz, Austria

DRAWING AS CONTINUUM, NOT ESCAPE

Cook repeatedly returns to the danger of isolating speculative work from architectural practice. ‘If you categorize it as utopian and then declare that this is one thing and that is another, it becomes very, very dangerous,’ he warns. History, he observes, is full of ideas once dismissed as fantasy that eventually materialized. ‘There’s a whole history throughout civilization of things that were dreams that suddenly somebody was surprised by and said, oh, bloody hell, it’s there,’ he adds.

For Cook, the value of speculative work lies precisely in its proximity to reality. ‘Most of the buildings, even the sort of weirder things or imaginative things, have an arrangement of parts,’ he mentions. Whether inserting structures into a hillside or drawing something nearly abstract, he insists he always carries a clear sense of ‘the size of it and how you would access it and what you would make it from.’ His refusal to separate visionary thinking from architectural logic is consistent: ‘There is no dividing line.’

Plug-In City versus Kunsthaus Graz, drawing versus pavilion – for Cook, these are variations of the same continuum. Even projects that appear whimsical are rooted in architectural intent. This attitude extends to how he approaches teaching. He sees drawing as a space for testing architectural thinking. ‘We’re investigators,’ he tells us. ‘And you can investigate with a paintbrush or with a computer or with a measuring rod… we’re still in the doing-it business.’

Kunsthaus Graz, view from the Schlossberg | image Universalmuseum Joanneum/N. Lackner

OPTIMISM, COMPUTATION, AND THE FUTURE

When the conversation shifts to the future and whether optimism is still relevant, Cook’s response is immediate: ‘Oh, absolutely.’ But he is careful to distinguish optimism from naivety. He describes the pandemic as having become ‘a great excuse for gloomers,’ fuelling a culture of resignation he finds unhelpful. Instead, he places his hopes in the emerging generation of computational designers. ‘The people who are doing wonderful things with computational architecture do have the fire in their eyes. They still have the fire in their eyes.’ Geographically, he sees momentum shifting away from Europe. ‘I think the new architecture is coming from the far East,’ he suggests. ‘Not because of cultural ideology, but because they seem not quite so nervous.’

In response to the question about whether his works reflect escapism, Cook resists the idea. ‘There might be, but I would see that as a weakness,’ he replies. For him, these drawings are probes into alternative ways of living. His reflections drift toward the in-between spaces of the urban fabric, suburbs, valley towns, and industrial sheds threading through landscapes. ‘There are many forms of utopia… many forms of the device directed towards a notion,’ he notes.

What fascinates him is how environments stitch themselves together: ‘The notion of how you knit a city interests me tremendously.’ He describes flying over Spain, observing towns splintering into ‘shed, shed, shed,’ and becomes animated about the hidden intelligence within Chinese shophouses: ‘Is it a shop? Is it an industry? Is it family? Is it extended?’ These hybrid conditions, he argues, are not utopias at all but the material of architecture itself: ‘We’re in the let’s-see-how-you-do-it business.’

Filter City (2020s) | ink, color pencil, watercolor on paper, 50 x 50 cm | © Peter Cook

‘LOOK, LOOK, LOOK’: advice for the next generation

Invited to share what guidance he would offer to a younger generation intent on imagining beyond the ordinary, Cook answers without hesitation: ‘Look. I always say look.’ He illustrates the point with an anecdote about a talented AA student designing a bus station from an American reference rather than her own daily commute. ‘Do you remember getting off the bus?’ he had asked her, a question that, for him, exposes how easily designers rely on ‘packaged information’ instead of lived experience.

True understanding, he insists, comes from attentive observation, noticing how ‘the houses on the cliff’ shift into ‘a smart town,’ where ‘the tourists don’t go,’ and ‘where the backyard industry’ hides. ‘It has to do with looking,’ he emphasizes. ‘The keyword is look. Look, look, look. Watch how you get out of the bus if you’re going to design a bus station. Not what it tells you in a manual.’

Listening to Cook, it becomes clear that utopia isn’t elsewhere. It sits in the sketchbook, in the act of looking, in the split second when a drawing becomes a proposition. The future of architecture is all about staying curious enough to keep on drawing. 

Sir Peter Cook revolutionized modern architecture with visionary projects

installation view: Peter Cook, Cities, Richard Saltoun Gallery London, 2023 © the artist | image courtesy Richard Saltoun Gallery London and Rome

Plug-in City (1970/2012) | ink, color pencil, watercolor on board, 79 x 164 cm | © Peter Cook

colorful drawings express his visionary ideas of what cities could look like

The Play Pavilion, designed by Peter Cook (Peter Cook Studio Crablab), in collaboration with Serpentine and the LEGO Group © Peter Cook (Peter Cook Studio Crablab) | image by Andy Stagg

Filter City (2020s) | ink, color pencil, watercolor on paper, 50 x 50 cm | © Peter Cook

his vision aligns with the theme of the Mugak/ Biennial

Drawing Studio for Arts University Bournemouth | image courtesy of CRAB Studio

installation view: Peter Cook, Cities, Richard Saltoun Gallery London, 2023 © the artist | image courtesy Richard Saltoun Gallery London and Rome

for Cook, the value of speculative work lies precisely in its proximity to reality

WU Department of Law and Central Administration | image courtesy of CRAB Studio

sir Peter Cook continues to inspire generations of architects

Filter Cities (2023) | VR | © Peter Cook

project info:

name: Designboom in conversation with British architect | @sirpetercookatchap

event: Mugak/ International Architecture Biennial 2025 | @mugakbienal

location: Basque Country, Spain

theme: Castles in the Air, or How to Build Utopia Today

curator: María Arana Zubiate

The post ‘I don’t agree with the idea of utopia’: sir peter cook on optimism and the power of drawing appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

Studio Aditya Mandlik (SAM)’s Factory 5.0 is a timber structure that positions biological intelligence as a genuine collaborator, co-authored by 10,000 king worms metabolizing Styrofoam in real time. ‘When we design built environments, we’re reshaping the planet’s outermost skin, one that has always supported complex, multi-species life,’ the architect tells designboom. ‘My instinct is to design in dialogue with that broader ecological knowledge system.’

Founder of the studio, Aditya Mandlik, frames the work as a call to rethink architectural authorship in the context of the Fifth Industrial Revolution, a moment defined by the convergence of human and non-human intelligence. ‘Making is no longer a linear, directive process; it becomes a co-evolution shaped by multiple intelligences operating simultaneously across material, biological, and spatial scales,’ the architect notes.

At the core of the project is plastic, the defining material of the First Industrial Era, reframed through decomposition ‘Plastic became a lens to understand how drastically our intentions and consequences can diverge,’ Mandlik tells us. ‘Working with worms revealed that nature already holds pathways for metabolising what we consider irreversible problems.’ Speaking to designboom, Mandlik positions Factory 5.0 as a framework for rethinking material futures, using decomposition to expand architectural imagination.

all images courtesy of Studio Aditya Mandlik

how worms reshape the geometry of the structure in real time

Factory 5.0 is a composite system of 546 digitally fabricated timber components interlaced with 200 Styrofoam plates housed in transparent acrylic chambers. These interiors become operational terrains where worms, approached as collaborators of the project, actively reshape the geometry of the pavilion. ‘Their behavior resembled that of micro-sensors, always recalibrating in response to temperature, light, and moisture,’ Mandlik explains. ‘These feedback loops began to dictate the pavilion’s evolving porosity.’ This procedure results in a continually transforming architectural section, revealed in various ways as visitors move around and through it.

Unexpected behavioral patterns soon become part of the design language. Worms clustered for warmth below 20°C, migrate toward darkness, and even metamorphose when isolated, behaviors that influence spatial rhythm and material decay rates. ‘Designing with decomposition demanded accepting that anything we create should ultimately be able to return to natural systems,’ the Mumbai-based architect tells designboom. This approach shapes decisions from assembly logic to the portability of the pavilion. Factory 5.0 was already in its second life at DDW, having been flat-packed, transported, and reconfigured from its Mumbai debut.

This adaptability extends into its afterlife. ‘Disassembly is not the end of a project, but the beginning of its next metabolic phase,’ Mandlik notes. After the exhibition, timber components are repurposed, while worm-transformed Styrofoam plates, sensitive to light, sound, and human presence, are preserved as memory objects and later used as molds for casting metal lights. The project becomes a living model for regenerative architecture in a world where biological and technological intelligence co-author space. Dive into the full Q&A below.

a timber structure that positions biological intelligence as a genuine collaborator

Interview with Aditya Mandlik

designboom (DB): Factory 5.0 introduces worms as active co-creators. What first prompted you to explore biological intelligence as a design partner?

Aditya Mandlik (AM): For me, collaborating with non-human intelligence has always felt like a natural extension of architectural thinking. When we design built environments, we’re effectively reshaping the planet’s outermost skin, a layer that has long supported complex, multi-species life. So my instinct is to design in dialogue with that broader ecological knowledge system. With Factory 5.0, this became particularly critical. Since the installation was conceived as a prototype for architecture in the Fifth Industrial Revolution, we chose to work with natural decomposers to break down single-use plastic, the defining material of the First Industrial Era. That act of decomposition became both method and message, positioning architecture as a metabolic, co-authored process rather than a purely human-driven one.

co-authored by 10,000 king worms

DB: As you mentioned, the project sits within the theme of the Fifth Industrial Revolution. How do you define ‘non-human intelligence’ in an architectural workflow, and what does it contribute to the act of making?

AM: Architecture becomes truly contextual, geographically, socially, culturally, and ecologically, only when every actor present on a site is allowed to perform. I’ve always believed that the planet operates through a dense web of behaviors, where each entity, human or non-human, contributes its own role to a constantly unfolding system. These behaviors are not passive; they are forms of intelligence that shape, negotiate, and adapt the environments we share. So when I speak of ‘non-human intelligence’ in architecture, I’m not thinking of it as an add-on to the design workflow. Instead, I see it as an existing field of entangled, cooperative interactions that we must learn to work with rather than override. In that sense, making is no longer a linear, directive process; it becomes a coevolutionary act, shaped by multiple intelligences operating simultaneously across material, biological, and spatial scales.

the worms metabolize Styrofoam in real time

DB: Why did you choose plastic as the primary site of decomposition, and what did the worms reveal to you about its future?

AM: Plastic is, in many ways, the great material triumph of the First Industrial Revolution. It reshaped human behaviour, accelerated production, and became inseparable from modern life. What interested me was this contradiction: a material originally engineered with ecological intent has, within a single generation, shifted into the category of ‘waste.’ Plastic became a lens through which to examine how drastically our intentions and their consequences can diverge over time. Working with worms made this contradiction even more compelling. Their ability, together with the bacteria in their microbiome, allows to break down complex molecular structures like single-use plastics, revealed something deeply optimistic. It suggested that nature already holds pathways for metabolising what we perceive as irreversible problems. This collaboration points toward a future where small-scale worm farms could become decentralized systems for decomposing not only single-use plastic but other organic waste as well. It reframes the issue from one of disposal to one of co-evolution, where natural intelligence and human design actively negotiate the lifecycle of materials.

rethinking architectural authorship in the context of the Fifth Industrial Revolution

DB: How did you approach designing a structure whose form and meaning emerge through processes of decomposition?

AM: The pavilion was conceived as an active dialogue between space and matter, its form articulated as a vector, a directional force urging us to rethink the foundations of how we build. If we are to imagine alternative futures, we must first intervene in the material realities we currently inhabit. In this sense, the afterlife of single-use plastic became a crucial point of departure, not merely as a problem to be managed, but as an ecological agent capable of reframing architectural imagination. Designing with decomposition demanded an acceptance that anything we create should ultimately be capable of returning to natural systems. This principle shaped every aspect of the project—from embracing material deterioration to defining the pavilion’s assembly logic. Factory 5.0 was therefore conceived as a fully disassemblable structure, enabling its components to be repurposed or reintegrated long after it’s exhibition in Mumbai. The pavilion itself was already in its second life at Dutch Design Week 2025, having been transported, reconfigured, and re-adapted specifically for the climate and conditions of Eindhoven. In this way, the pavilion’s form, meaning, and visitor experience were never intended to be fixed. Instead, they were designed to evolve through cycles of breakdown, transformation, and return, mirroring the metabolic processes that animated the project from within. Factory 5.0 ultimately positions decomposition not as an endpoint, but as a generative force shaping both architectural expression and ecological imagination.

at the core of the project is plastic

DB: What were some of the most unexpected behaviors or feedback loops you observed during the worms’ metabolic process?

AM: One of the most unexpected insights came from observing how socially and environmentally responsive the worms were. Across experiments with multiple species, we studied how they reacted to variations in temperature, light, moisture, and even sound. Their behavior resembled that of micro-sensors, constantly adjusting and recalibrating in response to subtle environmental shifts. When temperatures dropped below 20°C, the worms instinctively clustered together to exchange body heat. In contrast, a worm left alone for two to three days often initiated metamorphosis, cocooning and transforming into a darkling beetle within a week. Their strong preference for darkness was equally revealing; exposure to light compelled them to migrate toward shaded areas, often resulting in higher aperture densities in those regions of the styrofoam panels. These feedback loops became foundational to understanding how the pavilion would behave, transform, and ultimately decompose over time. They also directly informed our preparations for installing the pavilion in the city centre. To help the worms acclimate to the Eindhoven’s weather, each acrylic container was equipped with insulation film, containers holding moisture-absorbing gels, and external UV-A/UV-B thermal lamps. Adjusting these parameters allowed us not only to support their metabolic processes but also to intentionally mediate aperture densities in specific zones of the panels, shaping the pavilion’s evolving porosity as an active design tool.

plastic is reframed through decomposition

DB: Factory 5.0 can be flat-packed, reconfigured, and repurposed, extending its material life after exhibitions. How does this design-for-disassembly strategy align with your vision of metabolic architecture?

AM: Design for Disassembly, for me, emerges directly from the intelligence embedded within the informal urban fabric of Mumbai, a landscape that is continually dismantled, reconfigured, and reinhabited across generations. It is not only an ecologically sensitive strategy but also a culturally attuned one, acknowledging the fluid, intergenerational patterns of occupation shared by both human and non-human actors. Within the broader framework of metabolic architecture, Design for Disassembly becomes a means of embracing uncertainty. It enables structures to adapt, mutate, and respond to conditions that neither designers nor other participants can fully anticipate. In this sense, Factory 5.0’s ability to be flat-packed, reassembled, or repurposed is therefore not just a logistical choice. It extends the material life of the pavilion while situating it within a continuous cycle of transformation, reuse, and reintegration. In that sense, disassembly is not the end of a project, but the beginning of its next metabolic phase.

Factory 5.0 is a composite system of 546 digitally fabricated timber components

DB: Looking ahead, what potential do you see for architects to collaborate with other biological systems, and how might this shift the profession toward a truly post-anthropocentric future?

AM: I believe architecture has remained deeply human-centric for most of its history, shaped first by our evolutionary instincts and later by the pressures of rapid urbanization. In constructing the modern city, we have often produced hyper-sanitized environments that separate us from the ecological systems we are inherently part of. What we tend to overlook is that humans themselves are complex biological beings; recognizing ourselves as nature is the first step toward reframing how we design. Looking ahead, I see enormous potential for architecture to collaborate not only with biological systems but with the dense fabric of behaviors, patterns, and intelligence already present on every site. These living interfaces, microbial, botanical, geological, atmospheric etc., continuously negotiate and transform the environments we inhabit. Engaging with them allows architecture to shift from being an imposed, static form to becoming an entangled and co-evolving process. Also, for this shift to meaningfully unfold, architects cannot operate in isolation. Policymakers, engineers, industries, and communities must also acknowledge these biological systems as co-residents and co-authors of the built environment. Only then can we move toward a truly post-anthropocentric future, one in which architecture is created not just for humans, but with and alongside the intelligence of the broader living world.

the structure incorporates 200 Styrofoam plates housed in transparent acrylic chambers

worms actively reshape the geometry of the pavilion

a continually transforming architectural section

unexpected behavioral patterns soon become part of the design language

worms clustered for warmth below 20°C migrate toward darkness

Aditya Mandlik observing the worm behavior

project info:

name: Factory 5.0

architect: Studio Aditya Mandlik (SAM) | @studioadityamandlik

biological agents: 10,000 king worms

The post aditya mandlik on turning decomposition into design in a pavilion built with 10,000 worms appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

At the Lisbon Triennale 2025, Besley & Spresser present a material provocation disguised as an architectural installation that begins with a disarming question from Peter Besley. ‘What if one of the building industry’s most hazardous materials could become one of its most promising?’ Together with co-founder Jessica Spresser, the studio reframes asbestos as a mineral whose future might diverge radically from its past. Their project, REDUX, built within the Palácio Sinel de Cordes, showcases carbon-negative materials derived from asbestos waste, developed with Rotterdam-based material scientists Asbeter and ceramicist Benedetta Pompilli.

The transformation is a working demonstration of a certified EU process that recrystallizes asbestos into stable silicates, safe, tactile, even visually compelling. ‘The goal is to replace the idea of asbestos as taboo with one of possibility and to see that even materials with deeply troubled histories can be remade into something constructive, safe, and unexpectedly beautiful.’ the architects tell designboom.

images by Rui Cardoso, unless stated otherwise

turning a toxic legacy into carbon-negative material

Asbestos is an ancient mineral, woven into the urban fabric through decades of industrial enthusiasm and catastrophic neglect. Though naturally occurring and not toxic in itself, its mining, processing, and installation embedded a lethal hazard into cities worldwide that continues to kill hundreds of thousands of people annually and leaves millions of tons of contaminated waste in landfills.

Besley & Spresser’s installation operates inside this uncomfortable legacy. The architects point to the paradox of industrial material culture: convenience versus damage. ‘Asbestos embodies the contradictions of a lot of industrial material culture: convenience vs damage. By transforming it, we’re trying to contribute to the rethinking of the material culture of city-making,’ Besley notes.

Besley & Spresser present a material provocation disguised as an architectural installation

from hazardous fibres to carbon-negative architecture

The scientific process that underpins REDUX is both uncompromising and surprisingly generative. ‘The renewal process involves heating asbestos waste to a high temperature in a controlled environment, causing it to lose its fibrous, hazardous form and recrystallize into stable silicate minerals. These end products can then be used as cement replacements or as mineral additives in other materials. The process also absorbs carbon dioxide, making it carbon-negative.’ the architects explain. Cement currently accounts for roughly 8% of global carbon emissions, and the renewed asbestos minerals can substitute up to a quarter of traditional cement content.

The architects were also struck by the aesthetic range of the transformed material, especially the ceramic glazes produced by Pompilli. ‘What surprised us most was the aesthetic quality of the outcomes, particularly the glazes produced from the renewed mineral. They create unpredictable, sometimes vivid colors that vary with the composition of the original asbestos,’ they tell us.

the studio reframes asbestos as a mineral whose future might diverge radically from its past

REDUX explores repair as a technical and poetic act

Built using these renewed materials, the installation at Sinel de Cordes is as much a spatial essay as it is a demonstration. It proposes that the city can heal itself by reworking its own debris and that innovation can emerge from the very substances that once caused harm. ‘Design has the capacity to turn legacies of harm into opportunities for repair. Landfills that cover asbestos on city fringes risk ongoing environmental contamination, while aging asbestos housing stock continues to pose health hazards globally. By transforming asbestos safely and at scale, we can recover vast tracts of urban land, reclaiming them as parklands, ecological corridors, or sites for sustainable housing,’ the architects share with us.

Walking through REDUX, visitors are invited to touch the newly formed materials, a radical gesture given the global stigma surrounding asbestos. ‘We hope visitors will approach the installation with curiosity. By allowing people to touch and closely observe the renewed material, the project invites a direct, physical understanding of transformation,’ Besley & Spresser explain. As they put it, ‘the goal is to replace the idea of asbestos as taboo with one of possibility.’

REDUX showcases carbon-negative materials derived from asbestos waste

origins of the project

The architects tell designboom that research began not in a lab but in a classroom. During a 2023 Master of Architecture studio at the University of Sydney, students investigated local asbestos dumping grounds. One team, Thomas Li, Kleopatra Ananda, and Jasmine Sharp, mapped the urban footprint of the material and eventually led the architects to Asbeter in the Netherlands. ‘This research led us to Asbeter in the Netherlands, pioneers in asbestos renewal, whose technology neutralizes asbestos fibers through a mineral recrystallization process. Their work revealed a global potential: turning a material long defined by fear and harm into a carbon-negative resource with architectural applications, from concrete and render to ceramic glaze,’ they reflect.

the architects point to the paradox of industrial material culture

asbestos is an ancient mineral, woven into the urban fabric | image courtesy of Besley & Spresser

recrystallizing asbestos into stable silicates | image courtesy of Besley & Spresser

the scientific process is uncompromising and surprisingly generative | image courtesy of Besley & Spresser

stable silicates can be used as cement replacements

visitors are invited to touch the newly formed materials | image by Hugo David

the installation at Sinel de Cordes is as much a spatial essay as it is a demonstration | image by Hugo David

project info:

name: 09.ED.15 REDUX

architects:  Besley & Spresser | @besleyspresser

collaborators: Asbeter (Rotterdam); Benedetta Pompili Studio (Amsterdam)

location: Palácio Sinel de Cordes, Lisbon, Portugal

research collaborators: Thomas Li, Kleopatra Ananda, Jasmine Sharp

support: Brickworks, AC Minerals Group, European Union, Renewi, Just Transition Fund, Provincie Noorde-Brabant, Betonova

structural advice: SDA Structures

installer: Cria Design, Besley & Spresser

The post besley & spresser transform asbestos into carbon-negative architectural materials appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

The iF DESIGN AWARD celebrates design that goes beyond aesthetics to solve problems and enrich human experience. In its Architecture discipline, the 2025 award recognized Studio Empathy, a New York-based firm, for the Assembled Void, Library at New York Korea Center. This project powerfully exemplifies architecture designed not just for function, but for feeling, showcasing a commitment to sensory engagement and cross-cultural dialogue.

designboom talks to Studio Empathy to explore their unique philosophy: how they design spaces that deliberately engage the senses, how visitors are cast as protagonists in their award-winning project, and what winning the iF DESIGN AWARD means for their mission to transform everyday life into something extraordinary.

Studio Empathy’s Assembled Void, Library won an iF DESIGN AWARD 2025 in the Architecture discipline

image © Michael Moran, courtesy of Studio Empathy (main image too)

iF DESIGN AWARD-WINNER STUDIO EMPATHY

Founded in 2022 by Changhaak Choi, Studio Empathy is driven by a desire to reconnect people, environments, and cultures. This philosophy is evident in the studio’s name and its core mission. Choi explains his interest lies in how man-made objects become meaningful and sustained through a network of emotions. He asserts that design isn’t a unilateral expression or an exact science, but that a space only truly comes alive when its design touches people. This focus on emotional connection is the foundation of their practice.

‘As a designer, while shaping environments where we live, I have always been interested in how man-made ordinary objects become meaningful and sustained, remaining as heirlooms. I think this is enabled by certain networks of emotion among people, environments, and cultures,’ begins Changhaak Choi, founder of Studio Empathy, to designboom. ‘Design is to create an identity for a space, building, and city, but eventually the real identity is achieved by the people who visit and live there. It becomes a place once it touches people. Design is neither math nor art. There is no clear answer and it is not working by one-way expression.’

the studio engages users with the design through overlapping functions, circulation, and unexpected sequences

image © Michael Moran, courtesy of Studio Empathy

This philosophy manifests in the core concept of Reciprocal Consequence. The notion is rooted in the belief that everything is constantly evolving and improving through mutual interaction. Choi’s design inspiration often comes from observations of this principle in the real world. He uses a methodology called Indexing, which involves analyzing and reinterpreting cultural clues or architectural archetypes into new, contemporary prototypes. By practicing across architecture, interiors, and furniture, the studio ensures a high level of consistency across all scales, allowing every detail to contribute to a unified, holistic environment.

‘The notion of reciprocity in my design starts from my recognition that everything is already everywhere and could be evolved more when interacting with each other. This is in respect to human achievements,  and it is why I am interested in reinterpreting phenomena and archetypes into design ideas.’ The designer continues to add, ‘The idea of indexing during the design process, and working in an interdisciplinary way, originates from this notion. Even though there are more complex and programmatic approaches to designing a project, indexing allows us to create a unique as well as intimate, form-adaptable space that resonates more closely to inhabitants and users.’

the heart of the library adds a biophilic connection to visitors, much like a traditional Korean courtyard

image © Changhaak Choi, courtesy of Studio Empathy

When it comes to the user experience, Studio Empathy views visitors as protagonists. Choi notes that as individuals are now ‘socio-cultural protagonists’ in the age of digital technology, designers must respond by infusing more freedom into a space. This active engagement is achieved through strategic architectural planning, such as overlapping functions, continuous circulation, and unexpected sequences. Crucially, natural light is treated as a dynamic artistic element that reacts with the forms and shapes of the space.

‘These days, people are already socio-cultural protagonists, and designers need to respond to them. Previously, designers tried to control people in a space by way of programmatic planning defined by conventional rules. Providing more freedom in a space is important to promote people’s engagement. I focus on mingling spaces beyond their functions, planning flows of continuous circulation and setting up a series of unexpected sequences people can encounter while exploring,’ adds Choi. ‘From these adjustments, people can find their favorite spot to enjoy and find out what to do as a protagonist of the space.’

the library’s design references a Han-Ok, a traditional Korean housing type, for its archetype

image © Changhaak Choi, courtesy of Studio Empathy

AWARD-WINNING ASSEMBLED VOID LIBRARY

The Assembled Void, Library at New York Korea Center demonstrates how Studio Empathy successfully applied its philosophy to create a culture-bridging space in Midtown Manhattan. Tasked with designing a Korean cultural venue, the team looked to the Han-Ok, a traditional Korean housing type, for its archetype.

‘The design was inspired by a traditional Korean housing type, called Han-Ok,’ explains Changhaak Choi. ‘The Han-Ok’s enclosed courtyard acts as a multipurpose communal space in the middle surrounded by functional rooms. The composition of rooms are layered in parallel and wrapped around with aisles providing continuous circulation. Because the boundary between in and out is very flexible, the spaces can easily be expanded and overlapped with each other while using. We tried to realize those spatial advantages for the library in order to make a place with more flexible interaction among its functions, spaces, and visitors.’

the wooden shelving units are arranged in a single rectangular loop to create a void in the middle

image © Changhaak Choi, courtesy of Studio Empathy

They specifically referenced the spatial principles of the Han-Ok’s enclosed courtyard and flexible circulation into the design. By arranging the wooden shelving units in a single rectangular loop, a void in the middle is created. This space, together with an adjacent terrace garden, functions as the inclusive heart of the library, much like a traditional Korean courtyard. This layout ensures visitors have both visual and physical connection to greenery. This strong biophilic connection sets up a unique sensory experience.

‘The reading zone, unlike conventional libraries, is integrated into the middle of the wooden shelving loop, forming a void that serves as the heart of the library together with the terrace.’ The designer continues to say, ‘Surrounded by book stacks, the terrace is covered with stone panels and designed to be an inclusive space hosting multiple functions, including reading, gathering, and occasional events. Wooden stools, designed in a cubic module, and herb planters enhance the communal and comfortable atmosphere. Scattered throughout the courtyard, it facilitates and drives diverse group or individual activities.’

the layout ensures visitors have both visual and physical connection to greenery

image © Michael Moran, courtesy of Studio Empathy

Winning the iF DESIGN AWARD proved to be a transformative moment for the young studio. This library was Changhaak Choi’s first experimental design under his own practice and first public project in metropolitan New York. The award provides a lasting validation and places the new firm on a global stage alongside luminaries like Foster + Partners.

‘It means a lot to me, as my practice’s first project. It is also fascinating that the award was given to a public space. This enables the library to amplify its own powerful cultural message to the community. It accelerates the role of this institution to the city of New York,’ confirms Choi. ‘The iF DESIGN AWARD plaque, engraved with the team and my name, is proudly on display at the library’s entrance.’

Studio Empathy plans for a furniture product line based on the library’s successful storage system

image © Changhaak Choi, courtesy of Studio Empathy

Choi notes that the award empowers the library’s own story, communicating and building an even more powerful cultural message. The international recognition has also helped prove the studio’s design methodology and approach. He encourages other emerging designers to challenge themselves, use the award platform as a peer assessment, and guide them into the future.

‘The iF DESIGN AWARD lets studios see where they are and where they are heading. It made me confident in my approach to design and has pushed me to continue exploring design methodologies and language,’ explains the designer. ‘It also provides access to colleagues in the design industry, to not only promote your work but also contribute and connect with the creative world. Our studio, as well as a relatively low-budget project, has been picked up by the media now, including designboom.’

the shelving displays the books to visitors inside and outside its courtyard

image © Changhaak Choi, courtesy of Studio Empathy

Looking ahead, Studio Empathy is preparing to extend its practice, with plans for a furniture product line based on the library’s successful storage system and pursuing new projects in New York and Seoul. Their core mission remains constant: to use design as an agent of empathy to create spaces that improve our everyday lives and transform them into something extraordinary.

‘I am preparing to extend my practice beyond field and country, as we have diverse projects ongoing in both NYC and Seoul.’ Choi concludes, ‘We will keep looking into past archetypes to reinvent and customize homes, forms, and spaces that contain people’s life, because I believe that we are very good at empathy-ing.’

the library was Changhaak Choi’s first experimental design under his own practice and first public project in metropolitan New York / image © Michael Moran, courtesy of Studio Empathy

the iF DESIGN AWARD has helped prove the studio’s design methodology and approach

image © Changhaak Choi, courtesy of Studio Empathy

the studio continues to use design as an agent of empathy to create spaces that improve our everyday lives / image © Changhaak Choi, courtesy of Studio Empathy

natural light is treated as a dynamic artistic element that reacts with the forms and shapes of the space

image © Michael Moran, courtesy of Studio Empathy

project info: 

organization: iF DESIGN AWARD | @ifdesign

award category: Architecture

project name: Assembled Void, Library

design team/designer: Studio Empathy/Changhaak Choi | @studio.empathy.ny and Praxes/Ji Young Kim

venue: New York Korea Center

location: New York, New York, USA

The post ‘design comes alive when it touches people’: studio empathy’s iF DESIGN AWARD library appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

The Uzbekistan Art and Culture Development Foundation (ACDF) appoints architect Lina Ghotmeh to design the Jadids’ Legacy Museum in Bukhara, a project that reimagines the former residence of reformist leader Usmon Khodjaev as a cultural landmark. Due to open in 2027, the museum is designed to explore the ideas and influence of Jadidism, the reform movement of the late 19th and early 20th centuries that sought to modernize education, foster cultural renewal, and expand intellectual horizons across Central Asia. The commission also marks Ghotmeh’s first project in the region.

‘The opportunity to work in Bukhara is a profound immersion into an extraordinarily rich history, one that has left behind truly fascinating architectural gems,’ Lina Ghotmeh tells designboom. ‘As you wander through the city’s streets, you are embraced by a heritage that carries you back to the Silk Road, to the architectural wonders of the early Islamic period, through the medieval flourishing under the Timurids, and forward into modern times. To build within this context is to listen carefully to the depth of history and to introduce new spaces – gently, softly, almost as whispers in dialogue with the past.’

The museum is part of a growing network of institutions spearheaded by ACDF that seek to place Uzbekistan’s cultural identity on the global stage. In Bukhara alone, this includes the recently launched Bukhara Biennial, while nationwide initiatives range from the revitalization of the Centre for Contemporary Arts in Tashkent to the Tadao Ando-designed National Museum of Uzbekistan, currently under construction (find designboom’s previous coverage here). 

elevation sketch | Jadids’ Legacy Museum renders by Lina Ghotmeh – Architecture, courtesy Uzbekistan Art and Culture Development Foundation (ACDF)

A historic residence Reborn Through Archaeology of the Future

Known for projects such as the 2023 Serpentine Pavilion in London, the Stone Garden tower in Beirut, and her current commission to renovate the British Museum’s Western Range galleries, Lebanese-born architect Lina Ghotmeh describes her method as an Archaeology of the Future. ‘It involves delving into the history and context of a place, much like an archaeologist unearths layers of the past, to inform designs that are rooted in memory and place,’ she explains to us. ‘For the Jadids’ Legacy Museum, this approach means creating a space that dialogues with its historical context, offering visitors an immersive experience that connects them to the past while inspiring future reflection.’

The building chosen to house the Jadids’ Legacy Museum once belonged to Usmon Khodjaev (1878–1968), a central figure in the Jadid movement and the first president of the short-lived Bukhara People’s Republic. Born into a merchant family in Bukhara, Khodjaev studied in Istanbul, where he raised funds to establish Jadid schools. Returning to Uzbekistan in 1913, he helped form the Young Bukharans, a group of reform-minded intellectuals advocating for educational and social change. His later career extended into diplomacy and scholarship, including leadership at the Institute for the Study of Turkic Culture in Ankara.

The word originates in Arabic and Persian, where jadid means ‘new’. Initially applied to modern educational methods, the word came to represent a wider program of cultural and social reform in Central Asia. The movement emphasized literacy, the inclusion of women in education, and engagement with global intellectual currents, while remaining grounded in local identity.

ACDF appoints architect Lina Ghotmeh to design the Jadids’ Legacy Museum in Bukhara | Iwan

The Khodjaev Residence as Cultural Landmark

Located beside Lyabi-Hauz, Bukhara’s 17th-century square and gathering place, the house has witnessed a transformative era in the region’s history. In a gesture of continuity, Khodjaev’s son, Professor Temur Khodja, has pledged the property to the Ministry of Culture to guarantee its continuity as a museum dedicated to Jadid heritage. ‘The residence of Usmon Khodjaev is more than a house. It is a vessel of memory, a silent witness to an age of change,’ Ghotmeh tells us. ‘Within its walls echo the voices of a generation that dreamed of new schools, new freedoms, and a new future for Central Asia. It bears the weight of history — the aspirations of the Jadid reformers, the collapse of the Emirate, the shadows of the Soviet years — and now, the possibility of a new chapter where memory and imagination converge.’

The museum will integrate the city’s architectural legacy into its design. ‘Bukhara’s architectural tapestry is profoundly rich, shaped by centuries of cultural exchange and evolution. Our design seeks to honor this complexity by weaving together traditional materials and forms with contemporary interventions, creating a harmonious dialogue between past and present so the museum becomes a meaningful addition to Bukhara’s architectural narrative,’ the architect notes.

the museum is designed to explore the ideas and influence of Jadidism | garden view

Carrying the Jadids’ Vision in Bukhara forward

At the same time, the project will highlight the work of local artisans. ‘Collaboration with local craftspeople lies at the heart of our approach, ensuring the design remains authentic, locally crafted, and culturally resonant,’ Ghotmeh shares. ‘By working with traditional materials — clay, ceramics, wood — and employing age-old techniques passed down through generations, the project both supports the craft community and embeds the museum within the cultural fabric of Bukhara. Our aim is to reinterpret these practices through contemporary applications, transforming the museum into more than an exhibition space — into an inspiring, spiritual environment where tradition and modernity meet.’

For ACDF, the museum is an opportunity to bring these stories into the present, establishing a space for reflection on how the reformers’ vision continues to resonate today. Gayane Umerova, Chairperson of ACDF and head of the Department for Creative Economy and Tourism, describes the project as a chance to connect past and present. ‘The Jadids’ Legacy Museum will tell the story of visionaries whose belief in knowledge, cultural renewal, and openness resonates powerfully today. In Bukhara, their legacy is part of the city’s fabric, and an inspiration for all generations,’ she notes.

the commission also marks Ghotmeh’s first project in the region | home

part of a growing network of institutions spearheaded by ACDF | scholarly impact

project info:

name: Jadids’ Legacy Museum

architect: Lina Ghotmeh—Architecture | @linaghotmeh_architecture

location: Bukhara, Uzbekistan

commissioner: Uzbekistan Art and Culture Development Foundation (ACDF) | @acdfuz

completion: 2027

The post lina ghotmeh to transform historic uzbek residence into jadids’ legacy museum appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

A landmark opening is set to take place in Marfa, the small Texas town whose transformation into an ‘art destination’ was famously led by the legendary Donald Judd. While he is among the most important American artists of the minimalist movement, it is less commonly known that his practice extended beyond sculpture and furniture and into architecture.

Judd had moved from New York City in the 1970s to the remote town which dots the endless high desert. In the decades to follow he was busy establishing large-scale art spaces and undertaking ambitious historic preservation projects. His many endeavors include an office in the heart of town which ultimately became his working architecture studio.

The office occupies a two-story brick structure which was first built in the early twentieth century before its overhaul by Judd and his team after acquiring it in 1990. Its recent restoration follows a seven-year effort that began in 2018 and paused after a fire in 2021. Throughout it all, the design team’s approach is driven by Judd’s own principles — respect for original materials and thoughtful adaptation to context. The renovation of Donald Judd’s architecture office in Marfa has reached completion and will reopen on September 20th, 2025.

Ahead of the office’s September 20th reopening, designboom spoke with Rainer Judd, President of the Judd Foundation and Donald’s daughter, about the project’s place within his legacy and its role in the ongoing story of Marfa.

Architecture Office, Judd Foundation, Marfa, Texas | image by Matthew Millman © Judd Foundation

a restoration driven by donald judd’s design principles

The reopening of the Marfa office is led by Texas-based studio Schaum Architects along with the Judd Foundation, which sees to the preservation and revival of Donald Judd’s architectural works. Through the project, passive cooling strategies, a rooftop solar array, and sustainable insulation methods are integrated into the original structure. Its historic spirit, meanwhile, is maintained and celebrated.

Interiors become gallery spaces for the display of Judd’s plywood and metal furniture, drawings, physical models, and archival material. Visitors traveling through Marfa are invited to explore these rooms to experience the depth of Judd’s architectural practice in the spaces where it came to life.

Donald Judd in Marfa, Texas, 1993 | image © Laura Wilson, courtesy Judd Foundation

dialogue with rainer judd

designboom (DB): Can you describe the spirit of Marfa through your eyes, and through the eyes of Donald Judd? How has it has evolved since his first presence there?

Rainer Judd (RJ): Marfa has a small-town history that is the core of its spirit — generations of individuals and families have helped shaped this before Don. From its days as a military outpost to its period as a cattle town, through the de facto segregation period against Mexican American residents, through its economic up and downs, it tells the story of change in the southwest, demographically and economically. Before it was settled as a town, this region has been inhabited for thousands of years.

For Don, Marfa was a place to install his work, a place to be in and care for the land, and to think. Inadvertently, it was an opportunity to do something locally that did not go against the nature of the place. He was against Marfa becoming a cattle town museum, and an art town as well, he was against the idea of an artist colony.

Today Marfa is considered an ‘art destination,’ and it was not when Don was living there. It is our responsibility to show up to the challenges we’ve helped create. I think for the work of the Foundation it is important to consider Marfa in an everyday context, of a small town, with us being one of the many individuals contributing to the next chapter of the place’s history.

Architecture Office, Judd Foundation, Marfa, Texas | image by Matthew Millman © Judd Foundation

DB: While he is known first as an artist and designer, he famously had many built and unbuilt works of architecture. How did these different creative disciplines intersect for him?

RJ: Art and design were individual parts of a whole, but you can see how they work with architecture, they all deal with space. In his writing on all of these — art, architecture, design — he states that the need to preserve and install his work in spaces that he considered appropriate and the invention of his work, were two primary concerns that ‘joined and both tend toward architecture.’ Concerned with the space surrounding his art, this led to repurposing buildings and envisioning future ones for different purposes.

That being a given, he understood that art did not have to concern itself with function the way architecture and design do. He emphasized that architecture was not art, but that did not mean that it could not be artistic or cultural the way that many objects and structures clearly are.

His concerns with scale, materials, form, and quality were the points at which these disciplines intersected. And also dignity, which he refers to often in writing and in interviews about architecture and art. The dignity of spaces, for living and for working, he believed good buildings had that quality. And of course, the inherent dignity of art, which led to his concern with its preservation and proper installation.

Architecture Office, Judd Foundation, Marfa, Texas | image by Matthew Millman © Judd Foundation

DB: How do this building and its restoration illustrate his architectural and artistic vision?

RJ: Considering the historic and spatial context of buildings, understanding their original structure and function was important to Don. When he bought the Architecture Office, one of the first things he did was sandblast the facade, he wanted to return the building to its original condition. This action takes into consideration the town, the style, and the time in which it was built. He respected original thought, labor, and materials. He was interested in not wasting this. He understood that the building could serve other purposes and even have his ‘unusual furniture’ inside but structurally it should be returned to the context, or as he would say the ‘situation.’

This aspect of understanding historically, spatially, and culturally where one is and what can be done with the available materials and resources, can be seen in both his art and architecture practices. And it was also what guided the Foundation’s work in this restoration project. The building needed to be up to date to protect the installed collection and the integrity of its structure, to adapt to the desert climate and be energy efficient, but whatever had to be done had to consider the existing situation and how it fit into the broader history and community in Marfa.

Architecture Office, Judd Foundation, Marfa, Texas | image by Matthew Millman © Judd Foundation

DB: What discoveries were made during the team’s environmental condition studies, and what were some challenges in bringing the building back to life, especially with the harsh Marfa climate?

RJ: The building has beautiful details that were able to be maintained and preserved or rebuilt after the fire — from the archway on the second floor, to the pressed tin ceiling, to its double hung windows, to the framing of the building. Following the fire, we had the opportunity to have new conversations to the possibilities within the structure.

The building itself, built circa 1915, was structured with a lattice of wood beams across the attic ceiling so it all had to be rebuilt. This provided our talented project team with a time period to consider how to do it better, more efficiently, with the time of one hundred years to reflect upon. We installed a system which I am excited about, which reflects the ‘technologies’ humans have used for thousands of years in desert climates in which the cool night air flushes the building.

Architecture Office, Judd Foundation, Marfa, Texas | image by Matthew Millman © Judd Foundation

DB: Judd’s furniture and design pieces, especially physical models, are a huge part of the restoration. How do these elements help us better understand his legacy?

RJ: Don’s art and furniture are widely known, there is a great deal of scholarship about his art, and to some extent his furniture and writing. His architecture is perhaps lesser known and the scale of it not wholly understood. Building big and new at large scales was the norm in 1980s, and it is not that Don did not have big projects, but he understood that resources are finite and that destroying existing architecture in favor of the ‘new’ was against reason, for him even to an ethical degree.

The architectural models and plans in the space illustrate not only his range within his practice of projects he was working on but also serve as examples of one person’s understanding of architecture, of form and function, and of space and time.

second floor, Architecture Office, Judd Foundation, Marfa, Texas | image by Matthew Millman © Judd Foundation, John Chamberlain Art © Fairweather & Fairweather LTD / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York

DB: With the Architecture Office now restored, how does it fit into the Judd Foundation’s long-term vision for preserving Donald’s legacy in Marfa?

RJ: The Architecture Office marks the completion of the first total building restoration project in Marfa (following the completion of the historic restoration of Spring Street in New York). In the scale of artists foundations both in the United States and abroad, we are a small team with a large mission that involves maintaining Judd’s physical spaces and art, public engagement, research, publications, exhibitions, land conservation, and gardens. The restoration was therefore monumental for us in terms of how the community, both in Marfa and beyond, came together along with the restoration project team of engineers, specialists, and craftspeople, to preserve his spaces.

Looking at the bigger picture, this is a small triumph, full of lessons in resilience and collaboration, that will guide the rest of our restoration projects.

Architecture Office, Judd Foundation, Marfa, Texas | image by Matthew Millman © Judd Foundation

project info:

name: Donald Judd Architecture Office

project architects: Schaum Architects | @schaumarchitects

commissioner: Judd Foundation | @juddfoundation

location: Marfa, Texas

previous coverage: July 2024

completion: September 20th, 2025

photography: © Laura Wilson, © Matthew Millman | @matthewmillmanphoto

design team (Schaum Architects): Troy Schaum, Rosalyne Shieh, Andrea Brennan, Ian Searcy, Tucker Douglas, Ane Gonzalez Lara, Tsvetelina Zdraveva, Ryan Botts, Anneli Rice, Zhiyi Chen, Ekin Erar (formerly SCHAUM/SHIEH)

historic masonry consulting: Alpha Masonry (Sotirios Kotoulas, Kostas Kotoulas, Antonio Guerreiro)MEP engineering: GK Engineers (Davia Gernand)historic building consulting: Higgins Quasebarth & Partners (Cas Stachelberg, Jonathan Taylor)

historic carpentry: High Desert Woodworks (Jon Antonides)

environmental, preservation, and conservation consulting: Image Permanence Institute (Kelly Krish, Christopher Cameron)

MEP engineering: KCI Technologies (Nicholas Badke)

general contractors: Method Building Company (Faith Melgaard, Kyle Melgaard, Jimmy Magliozzi), RC Concepts (Juan Martinez, Jose Martinez)

engineering: Simpson Gumpertz & Heger (Nathaniel Smith), TYLin Engineering (Pat Arnett, Jennifer Chan)
energy engineering: Transsolar KlimaEngineering (Erik Olsen)

The post interview: donald judd’s architecture office in marfa, texas set to reopen this month appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

As Dekmantel Festival opens its 2025 edition in Amsterdamse Bos, the Netherlands, CURTAIN 01, an architectural installation by ZELT, introduces a constructed addition to the forest landscape. Led by Johannes Offerhaus, the studio’s design takes the form of a suspended textile canopy that stretches above the Selectors Stage, a longtime favorite among festivalgoers. Inspired by couture construction and spatial design, its function is to offer rain protection for DJs performing over the three-day event. Still, the project creates a distinct spatial atmosphere that mediates between the natural setting, the crowd, and the sonic intensity of live performance. ‘The initial idea was to suspend it between two trees,’ the Dutch designer tells us. ‘As the design and forces grew, this became impossible. Now there are four steel poles hidden between the trees that keep the whole installation suspended. This allows me to keep the rest of the details very lightweight and simple.‘

Held aloft by a complex system of ropes, aluminum, and steel, the tensile structure transforms the clearing into what light designer Zalán Szakács describes as ‘some kind of intergalactic sailing ship.’ Its curved, white textile surfaces ripple in the breeze and catch dappled light through the trees. ‘I always aim to make my installations visually interesting from all sides, even backstage,’ Johannes Offerhaus notes. ‘In contrast to more traditional festival scenography, it doesn’t just look good facing forward — and from the back you’re not just looking at zip ties and stapled fabric. I aim to make sure the stage doesn’t just have a face, but that it is a space.’

all images by Woody Bos, unless stated otherwise

a series of repeating, curved forms shapes CURTAIN 01

CURTAIN 01 is constructed entirely by hand from white textile through a meditative process of draping and sewing, drawing from Offerhaus’ early training in fashion. ‘Just like in a draping process where form-finding is done through the process of draping textile around a human body,’ he says, ‘I start modelling and prototyping with textiles. Only my canvas is not the human body anymore, it’s space.’

Designed specifically for the Selectors Stage of the festival, an intimate clearing surrounded by willow trees, the form takes cues from the natural setting. ‘It’s a very intimate stage with a lot of nice hazy sunlight moments,’ the designer and leader of the team at ZELT shares with designboom. ‘It has a very clear identity that I could easily mess with too much.’

ZELT’s canopy is suspended from steel anchors and held in place through a system of ropes and aluminum rods, allowing it to float above the heavy concrete stage element. The fabric is shaped into a series of repeating, curved forms, producing a rippling overhead surface that catches light and wind. Using a single color and consistent geometry lends the structure a calm visual presence, contrasting with the surrounding motion and sound. ‘While playing with the characteristics of curtains, this design evolved to three circular-shaped curtains hanging from the same points that are pushed into three different planes by aluminum tubing. These form the base for the last circle—the rainproof roof of the stage,’ he continues. The rhythmic repetition of the fabric’s curves and seams creates a sense of spatial order. ‘It brings order and makes your eye understand what’s happening,’ Offerhaus observes.

white textile surfaces ripple in the breeze

lighting design references sci-fi films and iconic music shows

The project emerges from Offerhaus’ intention to scale up his textile work. ‘In the last three years, having worked on textile designs at small scale — attached to the body — I really felt the need to scale up,’ he explains. ‘I wanted my work to be very big — to offer a space for more than just one person.’ That opportunity came through a collaboration with Dekmantel’s Creative Director, Albert van Abbe, who invited him to reimagine the scenography of the Selectors Stage. While van Abbe envisioned a prefab concrete DJ booth as a stable core for vinyl sets, Offerhaus came up with a lightweight, expressive textile canopy that hovers above. ‘The heavy concrete — a perfect anchor point — naturally invited in a lightweight (visually and literally) textile tensile piece,’ he adds.

Alongside CURTAIN 01, Szakács’ lighting design brings a cinematic tone to the space, referencing 1970s sci-fi film sets and iconic rock shows such as Pink Floyd’s Pompeii performance through warm whites, amber, and soft blues that mix with the white fabric above.

an overhead surface that catches light and wind

Johannes Offerhaus on his ‘tent designs’

Every component of the structure is crafted in Offerhaus’ Amsterdam Noord studio using industrial sail-making machines. ‘We machine sew everything… it gives us a really good understanding of the materials and their limitations,’ he highlights. ‘The design is very clear until you get all the fabric cut and have to assemble it. You quite easily get lost in between the heaps of fabric behind the sewing machine.’ He and his team follow a highly structured process to ensure precision, knowing they only have days before the festival opens to confirm whether the assembly works.

Offerhaus prefers to let the work speak for itself once it’s in place. ‘I don’t have to inform the spectator how to interpret the work, and I don’t have to present it to them. I can dissolve in the crowd,’ Johannes Offerhaus points out. ‘Obviously the moment the festival starts, my work merges together with that of others – light designers, sound engineers, DJs, performers – and so I become the spectator as well.’

This project follows earlier installations such as GATEWAY at Down The Rabbit Hole festival and KOLOM 01, all part of Offerhaus’ evolving interest in spatial textiles – what he calls his ‘tent designs.’ ‘By calling my installations ”tents” I am forcing myself to slowly find a purpose and function for them,’ he comments. ‘Ultimately, it is a gateway for the terrain.’  

designed specifically for the Selectors Stage of the festival | image courtesy of ZELT

floating above the heavy concrete stage element | image courtesy of ZELT

suspended between the trees | image courtesy of ZELT

a lightweight, expressive textile canopy that hovers above the stage

repeating, curved forms

ZELT’s canopy is held in place through this system of ropes and aluminum rods | image courtesy of ZELT

suspended from steel anchors

a complex system of ropes, aluminum, and steel

project info:

name: CURTAIN 01

architect: ZELT

location: Amsterdamse Bos, Amsterdam, Netherlands

lead architect: Johannes Offerhaus | @johannesofferhaus

commissioned by: Dekmantel Festival | @dkmntl

photographer: Woody Bos | @woodybos

The post ZELT’s curved rain-proof canopy ripples above dekmantel festival stage in the netherlands appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

At the 2025 Venice Architecture Biennale, Morocco’s national pavilion addresses challenges posed by earthquakes across the region by taking an elemental approach to material, memory, and seismic resilience. Titled Materiae Palimpsest, the exhibition takes form as an evocative landscape bridging construction research prototypes with an artistic scenography. We see a cluster of columns built from natural local materials such as rammed earth, stone, and timber sourced from across Morocco, configured as a series of passageways almost reminiscent of architectural ruins – perhaps the aftermath of an earthquake. They all encircle a hologram representing the human condition and ancestral knowledge — ‘It’s intentionally fragile and immaterial, confronting the physical nature of the materials around it,’ Khalil Morad El Ghilali tells designboom during our visit to the pavilion.

The architect, who co-curated the exhibition with El Mehdi Belyasmine, explains how these structures function as sectional scale models manifesting the duo’s ongoing research into how local construction know-how can be revitalized to shape earthquake-proof architecture. ‘We’ve been gathering around 136 completely different techniques and materialities from all around the country — from the north to the south — that we’ve here integrated into 72 columns. These columns serve as a kind of guide for construction, particularly for architects interested in sustainable development,’ he explains.

all images by Venice Documentation Project — Samuele Cherubini, courtesy of the Pavilion of the Kingdom of Morocco

celebrating material intelligence at venice architecture biennale

Materiae Palimpsest resonates in light of Morocco’s devastating 2023 earthquake. In rebuilding affected rural settlements, Khalil Morad El Ghilali’s practice, and others like it, have demonstrated how heritage-based techniques can perform better than concrete in these particular contexts. The architect points out that some of his team’s pilot structures near the epicentre remained undamaged, owing to a combination of local craftsmanship and adapted engineering, rooted in generational know-how. This extends El Ghilali’s approach that is driven by the urgency to reframe ancestral methods as scalable, adaptive, and technically sound alternatives to industrial construction. ‘Instead of abstract concepts, we aim to improve local crafts through practical upgrades in engineering and architecture, without losing sight of what people can really do at a large scale,’ he shares. El Mehdi Belyasmine adds:  ‘Working with the land — using local soil, traditional tools, and ancestral know-how — allows us to reconnect with our heritage while also empowering local labor and craft. It’s not nostalgia — it’s continuity. It’s about building with intention, with care, and with respect for the people and the place.’

This philosophy grounds the pavilion in a clear critique of contemporary architectural education and practice, which, the duo notes, often privileges conceptual gestures over material literacy. Calls for a broader reflection on how architectural knowledge is produced, as El Ghalili reflects: ‘Too often today, architects don’t know how to build with their hands. They’re trained to be conceptual rather than constructive.’ He frames revisiting these embodied modes of making is as a return to a collaborative, ground-up process that brings designers back into conversation with materials, with place, and with the people who build, as emphasized by the flickering hologram figure at the center of the space, and the traces of the human hand it confronts as carried in each of the columns. Read our full interview with the architects and co-curators below.

Materiae Palimpsest addresses challenges posed by earthquakes across the region

interview with Khalil Morad El Ghilali & El Mehdi Belyasmine

designboom (DB): Can you introduce the idea behind the creation of the pavilion?

Khalil Morad El Ghilali (KMEG): The idea was to sublimate the materiality and showcase the diversity of local construction techniques across Morocco. We’ve been gathering around 136 completely different techniques and materialities from all around the country — from the north to the south — that we’ve here integrated into 72 columns. These columns serve as a kind of guide for construction, particularly for architects interested in sustainable development.

This pavilion is one of our latest experiments: we used post-tensioned, prefabricated blocks as a potential solution for rebuilding in earthquake-affected areas. The entire pavilion was also assembled in three days. The blocks are solid, not hollow, and actually the heaviest one weighs 500 kilograms, and yet they were mounted like Lego pieces.

El Mehdi Belyasmine (EMB): The Moroccan Pavilion is conceived as an experimental space to deepen the understanding of cultural identity and highlight the significance of spatial performance — through visual aesthetics, scents, textures, and tactile sensations — creating an immersive and authentic experience within a dynamic environment. This approach should be implemented in all architectural projects. It is essential to design with a strong connection to the local context and its surroundings, recognizing these conditions as foundational architectural elements.

A hologram sits at the center of the space, representing the human condition and ancestral knowledge

DB: There are many layers to the scenography, from the almost ruins-like landscape of columns, to the textiles and the screen at the center. Can you share more about that?

KMEG: We’ve divided the scenography into three main elements.

The first is the columns, which reflect building, engineering, and architecture. The second is the tools. These are represented by the muqarnas hanging from the ceiling, which were historically used to construct such elements. We sourced them from different villages, and each tool carries the trace of a human hand and an imprint of collective engineering. The third element is the human condition, represented by a hologram. It’s intentionally fragile and immaterial, confronting the physical nature of the materials around it.

EMB: I wanted to create a space that pushes the boundaries of how we understand and express cultural identity. It’s an experimental platform that explores spatial performance — not just through form and function, but through texture, scent, sound, and atmosphere. Architecture should be felt, not just seen.

the pavilion takes an elemental approach to material, memory, and seismic resilience

DB: The presence of the hologram was quite unexpected after walking through all these tactile details. What role does it play within the overall composition?

KMEG: It raises a question about whether we should keep chasing extraordinary technologies to solve our problems, or whether we should instead ask what we can learn from our ancestors — not archaeologically, but humbly. There’s a vast body of knowledge gathered over thousands of years, and this project is about reconnecting with that wisdom rather than erasing it and starting from scratch.

So for us, this pavilion becomes a place of knowledge, collective intelligence, scent, fabric, texture, memory. Like a foyer, a place to gather. It reflects how Moroccans welcome people, how spaces are warm and inviting. Each brick, each tool, each trace carries human intelligence. Confronting these elements — between the artificial and the natural — was very important to us and the main idea of the pavilion.

tools, historically used for construction and craft, are hung from the ceiling

DB: Does the hologram, as a symbol for the ‘human condition’, serve as more of a symbolic counterpoint to the raw materials surrounding it, or tie them together?

KMEG: For us, it’s a confrontation. The hologram is encased in glass and placed at the center of the room, and above it, we placed some of the heaviest formwork elements, really emphasizing its fragility. But then it’s also symbolically loaded; it’s a memory of what might remain of the human condition in the future if we lose our connection to materiality and making. Maybe that’s all we’ll have left, a memory.

The idea is to really highlight the tension between the immaterial and the physical — between where we are headed and what we still have.

these tools were sourced from different villages in Morocco

DB: Building on that, what kind of questions do you hope visitors will walk away with? Is the goal to present solutions, or to create space for reflection, or both?

KMEG: We’re not trying to offer definitive answers, but rather pose questions. Let people find their own meanings through the combinations of materials we present, like earth from Marrakech and stones from the coastal areas and rivers. These materials allow for different engineering possibilities, including seismic resistance, construction, elevations.

It’s really an individual experience, but also a collective one at the same time. The pavilion’s passages ensure that only one person can stand inside a column at a time. We wanted each visitor to directly face the materiality of that individual column, despite the openness of the layout.

each element carries the trace of a human hand and an imprint of collective engineering

DB: You’ve emphasized that your reference to traditional techniques isn’t nostalgic or archaeological. Can you elaborate on how these indigenous methods can be applied today, especially in the face of environmental challenges?

KMEG: The main contemporary application is earthquake resistance. You probably heard about the earthquake in Morocco two years ago. It affected regions where villages were traditionally built using earth and stone. Unfortunately, many of those techniques have been lost, and what replaced them, like poor-quality concrete, wasn’t adapted to the climate or structural needs.

Since then, one of the main questions has been to consider how we can rebuild those villages. And so we’ve been working with local techniques and engineering knowledge. Some of our projects, built near the earthquake zone using these methods, had no damage, and I’ve also been publishing research around this. The idea is to provide technologies that are accessible and replicable, technologies that people can actually assess and use, rather than ones completely out of reach due to the pace of innovation.

72 columns form passageways evoking architectural ruins

There are areas without internet, robotics, or digital tools. So instead of abstract concepts, we aim to improve local crafts through practical upgrades in engineering and architecture, without losing sight of what people can really do at a large scale. We worked directly with local craftspeople for this, and we built with our hands, with media,

In many ways, this is also a critique of the architectural profession.

Too often today, architects don’t know how to build with their hands. They’re trained to be conceptual rather than constructive. We need to bring back the role of the master builder. This pavilion was built by hand, together with craftspeople and media specialists. We wanted to show that design must happen through communication, with those who actually know how to make.

the columns materialize 136 construction and material techniques and know-how from across Morocco

DB: Beyond technical performance, do these traditional methods also offer a more meaningful way to build,  culturally or socially?

EMB: One of the main issues with 20th-century architecture in Morocco was the imposition of modernist ideals that were disconnected from our cultural and environmental context. Imported styles and industrial materials were favored over local knowledge and tradition, which led to buildings that didn’t speak to the identity or needs of Moroccan communities. It created a kind of architectural amnesia — spaces that felt alien rather than rooted.

For me, earth-based architecture is not just a technical solution; it’s a cultural and humanist response. It’s about returning to methods that reflect who we are and where we come from. Working with the land — using local soil, traditional tools, and ancestral know-how — allows us to reconnect with our heritage while also empowering local labor and craft. These approaches bring a tangible depth to the work and ensure that architecture remains a collective, grounded act. It’s about building with intention, with care, and with respect for the people and the place.

celebrating material intelligence at the Venice Architecture Biennale

‘I wanted to create a space that pushes the boundaries of how we understand and express cultural identity.’

textile art by Soumyia Jalal

‘It’s about building with intention, with care, and with respect for the people and the place.’

‘Working with the land allows us to reconnect with our heritage while also empowering local labor and craft.’

‘We wanted each visitor to directly face the materiality of that individual column, despite the openness of the layout.’

project info:

name: Materiae Palimpsest — Morocco Pavilion

curators: Khalil Morad El Ghilali, El Mehdi Belyasmine

program: Venice Architecture Biennale | @labiennale

dates: May 10th — November 23rd, 2025

The post interview: morocco pavilion’s earth-based, seismic architecture of future at venice biennale appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

France’s La Grande Motte reveals itself at the break of day, when most seaside resorts lie dormant or disheveled, to Charly Broyez and Laurent Kronental as a mirage made permanent. Through their photographic series La Cité Oasis, the two artists approach the French coastal city as a memory trace, a strangely familiar dream sculpted in concrete, palms, and Mediterranean haze. While their journey began in nearby Arles, home to the celebrated Rencontres de la Photographie festival (find designboom’s mini guide here), it was in La Grande Motte that they found a city so steeped in symbols it felt closer to fiction than place. ‘During our first visit, we were immediately charmed by the unique allure of this city. Its spectacular architecture seemed to transport us to a sci-fi setting,’ share the photographers.

Le Poséidon – Le Couchant de La Grande Motte – 2019 | all images © Charly Broyez and Laurent Kronental

La Cité Oasis features jean balladur’s seaside modern buildings

La Grande Motte, a seaside resort in southern France, was built during the economic boom that followed World War II, an era known in France as Les Trente Glorieuses (the Glorious Thirty). In the 1960s, the French government launched an ambitious plan called Mission Racine to develop the Mediterranean coast of the country, a strategic move to encourage French people to holiday at home instead of heading to Spain.

Mies van der Rohe-trained architect and urban planner Jean Balladur was given the task of designing La Grande Motte from the ground up. His vision was to create a modern paradise by the sea, inspired by everything from Mayan pyramids and Brutalist architecture to the optimistic spirit of modernism. Balladur imagined a city filled with striking geometric buildings, wrapped in lush greenery. ‘Jean Balladur envisioned “rebuilding a paradise, overrun by greenery,”‘ note Paris-based photographers Charly Broyez and Laurent Kronental. The result is a combination of pyramids, loggias, portholes, bishop’s hats, and flowing concrete forms.

Le Temple du Soleil & Les Voiles Blanches – Le Couchant de La Grande Motte – 2020

A Four-Year Study Through Large-Format Film

The artists return to the site repeatedly over four years, documenting its seasons and subtleties with a large-format 4×5″ film camera. ‘Working with large-format film encourages us to anticipate the construction of our images like paintings,’ they comment. Their analog approach becomes a form of attunement – to light, atmosphere, and local rhythms. ‘The film camera is a wonderful tool that demands rigor and patience. It compels us to slow down, make choices, and contemplate,’ the photographers add.  In their dreamlike series, Balladur’s modernist geometry seems to soften under Mediterranean haze, and architecture reveals its lyrical potential.

Le Babylone II – Le Levant de La Grande Motte – 2020

A Blueprint for Climate-Adaptive Cities

Beyond the bold silhouettes of concrete structures, La Cité Oasis draws attention to the ecological foresight of the project. ‘La Grande Motte is a true Oasis City, where immersion in nature and the well-being of its inhabitants are at the heart of its urban philosophy,’ Charly Broyez and Laurent Kronental 

Since it was first developed, more than 50,000 trees have been planted, and nearly 70% of the city is now covered in greenery. Intertwining nature and the built environment, with buildings nestled among trees, arranged in layers, and sheltered from coastal winds, was ahead of its time. In many ways, it predicted the sustainable design ideas that cities around the world are only now beginning to adopt. ‘Jean Balladur said, ”I attempted to compensate for this lack and to substitute symbolic backdrops for historical deficits… The walker or resident then plays hide-and-seek with the mythical underpinnings hidden within,”‘ reflect the photographer duo.

Modénature – Palomino – Le Ponant de La Grande Motte – 2020

Personal Histories Shape a Shared Vision

The photographers see in Balladur’s city a living utopia, inhabited, symbolic, and evolving. For Kronental, who previously explored the poetic decay of postwar housing estates in the Parisian banlieues, La Grande Motte offers a different kind of promise: ‘Photographing the seaside resort of La Grande Motte came naturally as a logical continuation of my work on dreamed cities, realized and inhabited utopias,’ he recalls. For Broyez, whose earlier series explored abandoned structures overtaken by nature, the garden city becomes a site of symbiosis. ‘The geometric forms of the buildings, inspired by both nature and ancient civilizations, integrate into this garden city… giving the city the appearance of an oasis,’ he reveals.

Broyez and Kronental’s series highlights the vision behind La Grande Motte, a city often seen as an architectural curiosity. ‘This series, beyond its aesthetic pursuit, invites us to see La Grande Motte as a living space and a crystallization of sensations… a symbol of a dreamer’s soul,’ the duo state.

Point Zéro II – Quartier du point Zéro de La Grande Motte – 2019 Architect – Jean Balladur

Eglise Saint-Augustin I – Le Levant La Grande Motte – 2019

Boîtes aux lettres Oiseau – Résidence du soleil – Le Couchant de La Grande Motte – 2020

Bâtiment Boule le Levant de La Grande Motte – 2019

La Grande Pyramide – Quartier du Port de La Grande Motte – 2020

Modénature – Le Delta – Le Levant de La Grande Motte – 2021 Architect – Jean Balladur

Le Poséidon – Le Couchant de La Grande Motte – 2019

Le Fidji – Quartier du port de La Grande Motte – 2020

Hall d’entrée de l’Eden – La Grande Motte – 2019

Fenêtre du Port-Ponant – Le Levant de La Grande Motte – 2020

Modénature sur le toit du Poséidon – Le Couchant de La Grande Motte – 2019

project info:

name: La Cité Oasis

architect: Jean Balladur

photographers: Charly Broyez | @charly.broyez & Laurent Kronental | @laurentkronental

location: La Grande Motte, Occitanie, France

The post broyez and kronental capture french seaside resort as sci-fi mirage at dawn in ‘la cité oasis’ appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

Living Room Collective uses live cyanobacteria within 3D printed biostructures to capture carbon dioxide from air in the Canada Pavilion at the Venice Architecture Biennale 2025. Named Picoplanktonics, the exhibition commissioned by The Canada Council for the Arts is on view from May 10th to November 26th, 2025. designboom speaks with Living Room Collective’s lead and biodesigner Andrea Shin Ling about the project. In our interview, she says that architecture often uses the term ‘regenerative design’ when referring to circular or upcycled material systems. ‘In Picoplanktonics, we are talking about the biological definition of regeneration, which means the literal ability to regenerate or renew from damaged or dead parts,’ she tells designboom.

The research team has merged two ancient metabolic processes for Picoplanktonics: photosynthesis and biocementation. For the former, they turn to cyanobacteria, one of the oldest groups of bacterial organisms on the planet. ‘Cyanobacteria are among the first photosynthetic organisms and are believed to be responsible for the Great Oxygenation Event, where 2.4 billion years ago, the atmosphere transformed from a high CO2 environment to a high O2 environment because of photosynthesis,’ Andrea Shin Ling explains. They can also produce biocementation, or the process of capturing carbon dioxide from air and turning it into solid minerals, like carbonates. Because of this, the resulting minerals act like ‘cement’ and can store the carbon permanently, keeping it out of the atmosphere.

all images courtesy of The Living Room Collective | photos by Valentina Mori, unless stated otherwise

Infusing the bacteria during the printing stage

Before bringing them to Venice, Andrea Shin Ling and the Living Room Collective fabricated the 3D printed biostructures at ETH Zürich’s laboratory. The biodesigner shares with us that when they make these structures, they already infuse the living cyanobacteria during the printing stage instead of later on. Then, they need to let the bacteria grow and take care of them so they can grow. This means they have to provide enough light, warmth, and humidity so that they can proliferate and slowly harden the prints.

‘The idea is that the bacteria cooperate in a human-initiated fabrication process and, with our care, can continue and finish that process (in this case, hardening the printed structures they live in),’ says Andrea Shin Ling. She adds that for the 3D printed biostructure with live cyanobacteria in Venice, favorable conditions mean warm sunlight, high humidity, and access to salt water. ‘These are conditions that are common in Venice and achievable in the Canada Pavilion, which informed our design process,’ the biodesigner explains to designboom.

Living Room Collective uses live cyanobacteria within 3D printed biostructures to capture carbon dioxide from air

Microorganisms that can repair themselves to a healthy state

In Picoplanktonics, the Living Room Collective works with bacteria as the living component of their material system. It has the ability to grow and die within the 3D printed biostructures, as shown in Venice, and the colony can restore itself under favorable conditions after periods of decline. Andrea Shin Ling says, however, that the process isn’t necessarily consistent since it depends on the environmental conditions at a particular point in time.

‘So, for instance, a bioprint might dry out if the air is too dry that week, and many of the bacteria die. But because the system is regenerative, the bacteria population has the potential to restore itself when favorable conditions return and then continue their carbon sequestration work,’ she shares with designboom.

these biostructures are inside the Canada Pavilion at the Venice Architecture Biennale 2025

During their research process, the group has also had samples where the bacteria have gotten ‘sick’, worn out, or where they looked like they were over-oxidized. With some care, the live cyanobacteria were able to repair themselves back to a healthy state. This is what Andrea Shin Ling means when she describes regenerative design. It looks more into the potential of biological material systems that are dynamic and restorative.

‘But their responsivity can also create situations that we don’t want. So much of the project is then trying to understand what is causing these situations and monitoring conditions so that we can respond accordingly,’ the biodesigner adds. Visitors to the Venice Architecture Biennale 2025 can see the research process and progress of Picoplanktonics firsthand inside the Canada Pavilion. It remains on-site from May 10th to November 26th, 2025.

the research group takes care of the bacteria throughout the exhibition to maintain their healthy state

the bacteria need warm sunlight, high humidity, and access to salt water to thrive

the research group already infuses the living cyanobacteria during the printing stage | image © designboom

the bacteria harden the printed structures they live in | image © designboom

the research team has used ancient metabolic processes for Picoplanktonics | image © designboom

the cyanobacteria can also produce biocementation, or the process of capturing carbon dioxide from air

Living Room Collective’s lead And biodesigner Andrea Shin Ling

the exhibition is on view until November 26th, 2025

project info:

name: Picoplanktonics | @picoplanktonics

group: The Living Room Collective

team: Andrea Shin Ling Nicholas Hoban, Vincent Hui, Clayton Lee

commission by: The Canada Council for the Arts | @canada.council

event: Venice Architecture Biennale 2025 | @labiennale

location: Calle Giazzo, 30122 Venice, Italy

dates: May 10th to November 26th, 2025

research and development: Andrea Shin Ling, Yo-Cheng Jerry Lee, Nijat Mahamaliyev, Hamid Peiro, Dalia Dranseike, Yifan Cui, Pok Yin Victor Leung, Barrak Darweesh

photography: Valentina Mori | @_valentinamori_

production

eth zurich: Huang Su, Wenqian Yang, Che-Wei Lin, Sukhdevsinh Parmar; Tobias Hartmann, Michael Lyrenmann, Luca Petrus, Jonathan Leu, Philippe Fleischmann, Oliver Zgraggen, Paul Fischlin, Mario Hebing, Franklin Füchslin; Hao Wu, Nicola Piccioli-Cappelli, Roberto Innocenti, Sigurd Rinde, Börte Emiroglu, Stéphane Bernhard, Carlo Pasini, Apoorv Singh, Paul Jaeggi; Mario Guala, Isabella Longoni;

toronto metropolitan university: Venessa Chan, Minh Ton, Daniel Wolinski, Marko Jovanovic, Santino D’Angelo Rozas, Rachel Kim, Alexandra Waxman, Richard McCulloch, Stephen Waldman, Tina Smith, Andrea Skyers, Randy Ragan, Emma Grant, Shira Gellman, Mariska Espinet, Suzanne Porter, Stacey Park, Amanda Wood, Lisa Landrum, Dorothy Johns, Cedric Ortiz

university of toronto: Daniel Lewycky, Philipp Cop

visualisation: Adrian Yu, Nazanin Kazemi, Ariel Weiss

structural advisors: Andrea Menardo, Kam-Ming Mark Tam

graphic design: Shannon Lin

website: Sigurd Rinde, Shannon Lin

local project logistics: Tamara Andruszkiewicz

project advisors: ETH Zurich, Benjamin Dillenburger, Mark Tibbitt

support: Canada Council, Digital Building Technologies, Institute of Technology & Architecture, D-ARCH, ETH Zurich, Department of Architectural Science, Toronto Metropolitan University, John H. Daniels Faculty of Architecture, Landscape and Design, University of Toronto, Royal Architectural Institute of Canada; Advanced Engineering with Living Materials (ALIVE) Initiative, ETH Zurich; Additive Tectonics GmbH; ABB Switzerland; Vestacon Limited and NEUF Architect(e)s

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