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

The post 3D printed biostructures with live bacteria capture carbon dioxide from air at venice biennale appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

MVRDV’s Winy Maas sits down with designboom to discuss the making of the kinetic Sombra Pavilion and the 3D printed Biotopia installation at the Venice Architecture Biennale 2025. Before the exhibition’s public opening on May 9th 2025, the Dutch architect, and the M of MVRDV together with Jacob van Rijs and Nathalie de Vries, explained the making and thinking behind the SOMBRA pavilion and the Biotopia installation. ‘It’s nice that the pavilion is not solar. In this case, it’s only the air pressure. What we use is our knowledge of the sun. We work a lot on shadow and light, and create and research complex solar programs. For Biotopia, I imagine a fully recyclable, biological world that combines all the properties we need: energy, oxygen, animals, shelter, light, flexibility, and changeability,’ the architect tells designboom during the interview.

One project uses physics to create shade without electricity, while the other imagines a future where buildings grow like living organisms. The SOMBRA pavilion – designed by a team led by MVRDV founding partner Jacob van Rijs – is at the European Cultural Centre’s Giardini Marinaressa, part of the Time Space Existence show. The Biotopia installation is at the Arsenale, part of the main exhibition curated by Carlo Ratti. Both of them are on view until November 2025. For the pavilion, built in collaboration with with Metadecor, Airshade, and Alumet, the structure turns reused beams into large arches, supported by metal ribs. This frame holds triangular panels fitted with perforated metal screens. The pavilion operates without electricity or motors. It relies on physics: when direct sunlight heats small air canisters located within the structure’s ribs, the air pressure inside increases. This pressure inflates small airbags attached to the panels. As an airbag inflates, it contracts, pulling its corresponding panel closed to create shade. When the sun moves and the canisters cool, the pressure decreases, and the panels reopen.

portrait of Winy Maas | image © designboom

Progress to building a biotopic world

Heading to the Arsenale of the Venice Architecture Biennale 2025, Winy Maas and his think tank The Why Factory collaborate with visual artist Federico Díaz to sculpt and present BIOTOPIA. The installation is in two parts. First, the 3D printed sculpture made of polymer. The second is an accompanying film documenting the Dutch architect’s research and how he imagines biotopia will be, which brims with self-sustaining systems. The kind of future here makes biology the foundation for all design. It reimagines cities as forests and architecture as something that grows like a tree. The core concept is a global Sponge, or a type of dynamic biomatter architecture. This Sponge would perform functions like cooling the air, filtering water, and generating energy, all while adapting like a living thing.

The sculptural installation with Federico Díaz, called Propagative Structures, gives physical form to the idea of living matter, of architecture built from living organisms. The work emerges from research into biomimicry, or a field of design that takes inspiration from natural systems. The installation’s forms draw on the structure of mangrove root networks, a suggestion of a future where habitats are not built but cultivated like plants. In our interview with the architect, Winy Maas discusses the future of urbanism, our progress to a biotopic world, the use of computational designs and algorithms in architecture, and what lies ahead for MVRDV, to name a few.

all images courtesy of MVRDV | photos by Federico Vespignani, unless stated otherwise

Interview with Winy MaAs at Venice Architecture Biennale 2025

Designboom (DB): It’s wonderful to see you here in Venice, Winy. We saw the Sombra Pavilion in the garden on our way here. We also read that it’s kinetic?

Winy Maas (WM): It’s a kinetic structure, yes. It doesn’t need energy. Air pressure is generated by a heat difference within the structure itself. That helps to close or open panels, cooling the building at certain corners or not. That, of course, depends on the sun. It’s good to see it in the afternoon too because they placed it next to a tree, so it stands out. The film will be made in the coming months, so we can see the functioning of this air-driven structure. It’s nice that it’s not solar. In this case, it’s only the air pressure. 

What we use is our knowledge of the sun. We work a lot on shadow and light. We create and research complex solar programs. After that, we can start working on the solar panel industry. Sun Rock, for example, which is our project in Taipei for the Taipower Electricity company, is a building covered with solar panels. It’s an example of how we use the sun. It’s a nice project too, and I love it. 

the project uses physics to create shade without electricity

DB: So, the Sombra Pavilion is one project of MVRDV here at the Venice Architecture Biennale 2025. In the Arsenale, you have another titled Biotopia under The Why Factory, which is the think tank and research institute that you lead. Here, it comes in two parts. The first a 3D printed model with the visual artist Federico Diaz that explores the idea of living matter in continuous transformation. The other is a movie that documents and visualizes this future. First off, how do you see a biotopic world?

WM: Biotopia is a dream. Imagine a fully recyclable, biological world that combines all the properties we need: energy, oxygen, animals, shelter, light, flexibility, and changeability. There’s a huge list of properties we demand from our materials and surroundings. Biotopia philosophizes and speculates on the idea that if we create a material or combination of materials that can facilitate these needs precisely when desired by humans, nature, or animals, that will lead to a city you can’t yet imagine. I’m pursuing a few things with my Utopia concept. 

First, I’m trying to paint a sketch. The seven-minute accompanying film visitors see needs improvement, so it will progress over time, to the next step. Second, I’m creating a timeline sequence of materials, an interesting research project I’ll publish in a book. This timeline will detail all the properties we need, measured in time per second, for an average population density. That’s a crucial part. We calculate what we can do with current materials and what’s possible if certain material innovations occur. 

the pavilion is at the European Cultural Centre’s Giardini Marinaressa | photo by Jaap Heemskerk

WM (continued): There are three epochs in these steps, with the current epoch of innovation per technology, like improved 3D printing. The entire MVRDV group is part of this research. A lot is already happening; we have old materials and new materials emerging. We see this more and more, with layers of wood combined with glue, like glulam and CLT. We also have more types of sandwich constructions. Materials are becoming collaborative.  But what if this collaboration becomes more intense?

Materials could help provide light, others energy, and perhaps they could even move. That’s what this timeline aims to explore, too: what kind of collaborations are needed. We’ll depict these in the final timeline, the Blend, where everything is so interactive and active. It could lead to a completely different type of architecture or urbanism. Finally, we’re developing prototypes. These are diverse. One is 3D printing, aiming to move beyond current prefabrication methods. While prefab is fine, 3D printing offers more flexibility.

the structure turns reused beams into large arches, supported by metal ribs | photo by Jaap Heemskerk

DB: We were told that the sculptural installation at the Arsenale was supposed to be made of living organisms instead of 3D printed from polymer. 

WM: Yes, and I’m still completely open to it, but that’ll most likely be after the Venice Architecture Biennale 2025. There’s this dream of using 3D printing that involves two components, or three elements, that are not currently part of 3D printing. The first is what we call the material bank. Carlo Ratti adopted this idea, which involved a machine design where you have various materials. You feed these materials into the 3D printer, which could have multiple nozzles – one for concrete, one for stone, one for glass, one for steel, one for minerals, and one for wood. 

This allows you to select the desired material as you print, changing nozzles along the printing line. This is part of the design. The second component is the printer itself, which is a mixed printer and an ‘un-printer.’ This allows materials to be changed and adapted. To achieve this, an analyzer scans the surface, determines its composition, and then initiates a destruction operation. This process varies depending on the material. For example, 100% glass is easy to break and can be burned in two steps. 

when direct sunlight heats small air canisters, the air pressure inside increases | photo by Jaap Heemskerk

WM (continued): You remove the material, burn it, and the burner sends it to the material bank, from which it can be returned to the printer. This applies to all types of materials. So, we have the mixer, the printer, the ‘un-printer,’ and the material bank. The final component is the monitor, where you design and input data. This input isn’t just for design; it’s also a control mechanism. During printing, you need to monitor the process to prevent cracking. 

This can involve adding more water because the printing material is like a pudding that needs to be as fluid as possible for adhesion. Adding more water helps with the drying period, and you can also use other polymers. I can provide the diagram, but I should patent it first. This is the dream, so far. There’ll also be these robots that would be there to help construct these. I also have a sequence of mycelium tests that I want to do with the school in Jakarta.

the frame holds triangular panels fitted with perforated metal screens | photo by Jaap Heemskerk

DB: That was our follow-up question: the use of biomaterials. It seems that you’ve already used them in your recent projects. In line with this, you’ve also had a talk discussing computational design and algorithms in architecture and design. In what ways have you and MVRDV adopted them into your workflow?

WM: We have our specialties as an office and research group. I cannot do everything, so we need to collaborate extensively. I’m proficient in scripting; our office was one of the first to adopt it, and now our department excels in it. Our team is well-trained in computation and computer science, which I believe is a significant asset. We are skilled in space design, like any architect, and we are also strong in visualization.

DB: What do you think is our progress towards a biotopic world?

WM: There’s a wide range of research I’m trying to gather and collect. We have the example of 3D printing and mycelium. I’m also looking into the lignification of lignin from trees to accelerate this process in the farming industry. This would make the material more fluid, more like willow. I’m also incredibly interested in the electrical changeability of materials, like electrical rubber, for instance. In short, it’s a long process, but the beauty of it is fantastic.

view of the Biotopia installation at the Arsenale | all exhibition photos by Celestia Studio

DB: Are there other materials you want to work or experiment with? What’s next for you?

WM: I like the lignin and the washing-stone technology. This is a new technique we’re developing with Eindhoven. You add a layer of stone, which washes away, and then it assembles into soil. So, it’s essentially accelerating soil creation through erosion and its distribution. This helps plants grow, especially in shadowy areas. We’ve already applied this concept in Dubai for a new pavilion. 

Let’s go back to what you said before we started the interview. We’re sitting in a park, and you asked if I have a relationship with nature. My background already explains it, and I think our architecture is involved in that, meaning nature. I think we make it possible to reconnect people with nature. I like your question about what’s next because that’s the topic of the book we’re making. My lectures are always about what’s next, and they include slides. There are many subjects. I can dream about utopia as a kind of end result, if that’s possible. 

Then, I also have to study mobility. I need to consider when I move and what makes sense, so we’re doing a new study on velocity with different industries. We’re checking how the city would look with a certain kind of mobility: if I walk only, or if I have horses, or if I have three types of mobility. I also want to add properties to drones. It’s not about sending packages, which we can already do. We have a drone skycar in Shenzhen, and surveying is another use. But you can also construct. So I ask my collaborators and clients, ‘What can I do if I want to build a house in the sky?’ Just as a hypothesis. We’ll see.

the installation comes with an accompanying film documenting the building of Biotopia

the first part of the installation is the 3D printed sculpture made of polymer

Winy Maas and his think tank The Why Factory collaborate with visual artist Federico Díaz for the sculpture

the installations are on view in Venice until November 2025

project info:

architect: Winy Maas

firm: MVRDV | @mvrdv

Biotopia

lead architect: Winy Maas

think tank: The Why Factory

artist: Federico Díaz | @federico_diaz_hands

location: Arsenale

event: Venice Architecture Biennale 2025

dates: May 10th to November 23rd, 2025

photography: Celestia Studio, The Why Factory | @celestiastudio

SOMBRA Pavilion

lead architect: Jacob van Rijs

collaboration: Metadecor, Airshade Technologies, MVRDV, Alumet, Van Rossum Raadgevend Ingenieurs, Arup, Kersten Europe, the AMOLF Institute | @metadecor, @airshadetechnologies, @mvrdv, @alumet_nl, @vanrossumbv, @arupgroup 

exhibition: Time Space Existence

location: Giardini Marinaressa

address: Riva dei Sette Martiri, 30122 Venice, Italy

photography: Federico Vespignani, Jaap Heemskerk | @federico_vespignani

The post MVRDV’s winy maas on kinetic sombra pavilion and biotopia installation at venice biennale appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

Situated in central Athens, Aristides Dallas Architects operates as a bridge between the raw landscapes of the Greek islands and the dense urban fabric of the city. Founded in 2014 on the island of Tinos, the studio laid its conceptual foundation there, but it was through its subsequent expansion in Athens that it evolved into a design powerhouse working across various scales, from Pnoes hotel, to Lap Pool House residence. Each project materializes through a unique approach that balances between a deep contextual sensitivity and the bold geometrical forms the studio is known for. ‘A building should feel like an extension of its surroundings rather than a foreign object placed on top of it,’ founder Aristides Dallas tells designboom as he welcomes us into his multi-level studio in the heart of Exarcheia.

Dallas embraces the contrasts between the studio’s dual presence in Athens and Tinos, drawing inspiration from wild Cycladic terrains as much as from the layered, ever-evolving history of the capital.‘Having one foot in each world constantly shifts my perspective,’ he explains. ‘The city is about negotiating with the built environment, while the islands are about negotiating with nature itself.’ It’s this fluidity between the two that defines the architectural approach of his firm, one that is deeply rooted in place yet unafraid of contemporary expression. Read on as we take a deep dive into the world of Aristides Dallas Architects, the studio’s design philosophy, creative process, and what lies ahead for the firm.

Villa V in Corfu | rendering © Katerina Iakovaki, image courtesy of Aristides Dallas Architects | read more about the project here

inspiration through observation

Aristides Dallas Architects is driven by the ambition to contribute meaningfully to the evolution of contemporary Greek architecture. Structured as a multidisciplinary team, the firm brings together engineers, material scientists, interior designers, stylists, and artists to create projects that are both technically and conceptually rigorous. For Aristides Dallas, inspiration often comes from the unfiltered elements of a place rather than existing architecture. ‘When I walk through Tinos, I see rocks scattered in the fields, stones that have been shaped by time and weather, and I think—how would it be if this became a building?’ he shares with designboom. One evening, while passing through the Tinos port, he noticed large concrete blocks stacked along the waterfront. That moment sparked a concept for a residential project in Crete. ‘You find ideas everywhere—sometimes in the wildness of nature, other times in the built environment.’

This constant oscillation between city and landscape pushes the firm’s design ethos forward. ‘It’s not about copying nature—it’s about understanding its principles and translating them into architecture,’ he reflects. ‘The structured city demands engagement with history and context, while the islands challenge you to respond to the natural terrain. The balance between the two is what makes our work unique.’ 

The Lap Pool House | image courtesy of Aristides Dallas Architects | read more about the project here

interview WITH FOUNDER Aristides Dallas

designboom (DB): Can you tell us more about your background, and when did you found Aristides Dallas Architects? How has the studio evolved since then?

Aristeides Dallas (AD): Architecture has been a central force in my life since my early years. Even during my studies, I was deeply committed to developing a personal voice in architecture, participating in international competitions and working long hours to support myself. I wasn’t waiting for the right moment to appear, I was actively shaping it. My creative foundation was laid during that demanding period, long before I ever opened an office. What later followed was the natural outcome of persistence and vision.

When I decided to establish AD Architects, it was not a matter of convenience—it was a matter of integrity. I moved to the island of Tinos in 2014, where I launched the practice with a clear direction: to undertake only projects I truly believed in. This deliberate selectiveness attracted clients from abroad, who recognized value in our approach. Our first design project, VOLAX, opened the way, followed soon by projects in Mykonos, particularly in the hospitality sector. But the true expansion began with our move to Athens in 2018. Casa Leone, our first project in the city, felt symbolically placed, as it happened to be on Tinos Street in Agia Paraskevi. Since then, we’ve grown steadily and now operate a fully integrated studio in Exarcheia, Athens. This is where our team, our processes, and our reach evolved on a national scale.

wood finishes complement the black and white tones | image by Mariana Bisti

DB: The studio has offices in both Athens and Tinos. How do these locations influence your work and creative process?

AD: Having a presence in both Athens and Tinos is a significant advantage, as it constantly shifts my references and sources of inspiration. Spending part of the year immersed in the Cycladic landscape completely changes my perspective. The contrast between Athens and Tinos is literally a creative engine. In the city, I engage with dense urban fabric, layered history, and evolving cultural expectations. On the islands, I’m in constant dialogue with nature, topography, and silence. It’s not about preferring one over the other, but about allowing each context to inform the other. This dual lens lets us approach each project without clichés. Athens sharpens our logic, while the islands refine our intuition. When walking through Tinos, the raw beauty of rocks, light, and wind patterns often spark abstract ideas that later return to the city as spatial strategies.

I remember one night, walking home from the office past the port, where large concrete blocks were stacked. That moment sparked the concept for a project in Crete. For me, inspiration often comes from the raw landscape, from the unfiltered elements of a place rather than its existing architecture. When designing in urban Athens, we must engage with the built environment, but on the islands, the only real context is nature. This duality, the structured city and the wild landscape, keeps our work dynamic.

displaying architecture books and models on warm wooden shelving | image by Kirill Samarits

DB: Given your high focus on residential and hospitality projects, can you tell us more about your philosophy on ‘living’ and ‘dwelling’, and how it shapes your designs?

AD: Designing a home is both one of the simplest and most complex challenges. Every client comes in with a strong vision of how their house should be. In some ways, it’s even more challenging than designing a hotel—hotels follow clear functional guidelines, while homes are deeply personal. Each house we design must be entirely unique because every person is different. This means we are constantly reinventing the wheel. Some clients say, ‘I have a lot of experience with houses, I’ve lived in them all my life.’ And they’re not wrong; they understand what makes them feel comfortable.

I often liken it to acting—slipping into character, understanding the emotional world of the person who will inhabit the space. It’s less about ‘solving a brief’ and more about narrating a life. Homes are always personal. Hotels, by contrast, operate with clarity of function—but we try to inject narrative even there. Designing in architecture is deeply psychological. It requires empathy, curiosity, and the ability to suspend one’s own habits to fully embody someone else’s experience. This is why I believe architecture isn’t just about creating forms, it’s about crafting experiences.

A Touch of New | image courtesy of Aristides Dallas Architects | read more about the project here

DB: Your projects are often characterized by distinct geometric forms, clear and bold material choices, and yet, somehow, a very organic and harmonious coexistence with their surrounding landscape. Where do you draw inspiration from when it comes to forms and shapes? How do you balance organic integration with bold geometry? What materials do you prefer to work with, and how do they contribute to the identity of your buildings?

AD: We always begin with the site. We study how light travels, how winds circulate, how the terrain flows. Every project begins with such an in-depth study of the landscape. Each location provides different clues that guide our design. Balancing bold geometry with organic integration comes down to three key elements: materials, scale, and placement. If a form is too assertive, we tune it back—not to hide it, but to ground it. Choosing materials that reflect the surrounding colors and textures also plays a crucial role. Throughout our projects we’ve found inspiration in everything from cracked mud to volcanic movement or even the momentary architecture of sand towers built by children.

For instance, in the project Tectonic Lodging, we were inspired by the way dried mud cracks, leading us to design a building that feels as if the earth has fractured open to create space. In Santorini, for the Monolithic Village hotel we studied how sand towers form when children play on the beach, which inspired us to experiment with a single material wrapping the entire structure. The inspiration came by observing the way volcanic lava spreads and used that to inform a monolithic design with a singular material palette. It’s not about replicating nature. It’s about understanding its principles, trying to read it, like a language, and interpret it into space.

Pnoes | image courtesy of Aristides Dallas Architects | read more about the project here

DB: Is there a unifying element, or series of elements, that define the identity of Aristides Dallas Architects?

AD: I don’t subscribe to a fixed architectural style that applies across different projects. Instead, our approach is about continuously rediscovering architecture through the unique demands of each site, program, and client. What ties our projects together is not a specific aesthetic but the process—how we engage with context, materials, and form. Each project is a synthesis of landscape, place, and people.

We analyze the topography, local history, climate, and how people will interact with the space. Some projects are inspired by the way wind carves rock formations, while others take clues from historical building techniques or the natural flow of movement. Rather than imposing a predefined aesthetic, we allow the site and its constraints to shape the form. The goal is not to create buildings that are immediately recognizable but to design architecture that feels inevitable, as if it has always belonged to the landscape. We ask: what makes sense here? What forms arise naturally from this place, not despite it? 

We aim for an architecture that feels like it belongs, as if it emerged rather than was placed. In that sense, our philosophy is to use architecture as a social instrument to shape places with empathy, clarity, and care. We believe that buildings must serve people first—and in doing so, they reveal their most honest beauty.

The Lap Pool House | image courtesy of Aristides Dallas Architects

DB: Given the special conditions and unique character of the places you are often designing for, do you engage in collaborations with local craftspeople to bring your projects to fruition? How important is collaboration for you, both within and outside of the studio?

AD: Absolutely. Collaboration is fundamental—not just within our office but throughout the entire construction process. Our studio brings together architects, engineers, material researchers, designers, and stylists. But just as importantly, we engage deeply with local craftspeople. We see artisanal knowledge as a living layer in our architecture. Whether it’s stone masonry, woodworking, or metal detailing, these collaborations enrich the project with depth and soul. We work closely with artisans skilled in traditional techniques, ensuring that each project respects and evolves from local craftsmanship.

Working with craftspeople who are truly passionate about their craft makes all the difference. A skilled artisan doesn’t just execute a design—they refine it, paying attention to every detail.

Terra Fracta | image courtesy of Aristides Dallas Architects | read more about the project here

DB: Can you walk us through the typical design process at Aristides Dallas Architects—from initial concept to final execution?

AD: Our process starts long before we draw the first line. We begin with immersive research: mapping the site, reading its wind flows, light patterns, emblematic views and orientation. But more than that, we try to decode its personality, what it wants to become. From there, we move to strategic modeling—combining 3D digital tools with physical maquettes—to simulate not only the form, but the atmosphere of the project. We always integrate topography, vegetation, and even human movement into these early simulations.

Materiality is never an afterthought. It is tested, not just imagined—sometimes through full-scale mockups built on-site, other times through live material boards that evolve with the design. What defines our process is not only technical rigor, but also emotional clarity: every choice must feel inevitable. It’s a collaborative exercise across disciplines—our architects, engineers, interior stylists, and external makers all contribute from the very first sketches.

Cubic Hotel | image courtesy of Aristides Dallas Architects

DB: What is one of the most challenging projects you’ve undertaken, and what lessons did you learn from it?

AD: A client once requested a ‘wow’ factor. At first, we leaned into that direction pursuing a dramatic design, but as the process evolved, midway through, we stepped back and asked ourselves: Is this the right kind of ‘wow’ for this place? This reflection led us to completely rethink the project, ultimately shifting toward a simpler design that was more in tune with the landscape. We realized that the ‘wow’ had to come from silence, not spectacle. We revised everything, choosing a design that revealed itself slowly through shadows, weight, and tactility. The lesson was clear, the most powerful architecture doesn’t demand attention; it blends in, revealing itself gradually and harmonizing with its surroundings.

The Cliffhanger | image courtesy of Aristides Dallas Architects

DB: If you could design a dream project with no constraints—site, budget, or regulations—what would it be, and why?

AD: I would love to design an entire village or community from scratch—a place where architecture doesn’t just shape individual buildings, but the relationships between them. Streets, courtyards, thresholds, voids, shared moments of shade or openness. That, to me, is the purest form of architecture: creating the framework for how people live together. And doing so in a way that feels timeless, rooted, and yet forward-looking. In some ways, we are already working in that direction—especially through our latest hospitality projects, where we apply these principles across multiple structures and collective environments. At the same time, our ambition is to expand our work internationally. We see design not as a regional dialect, but as a universal language—one that can adapt to different geographies, cultures, and needs without losing depth or specificity. Our method is adaptable as well as our values are transferrable.

We’ve already worked on projects in Cyprus, and we’re actively seeking opportunities to extend this dialogue across borders. We’re open to partnering with international clients and teams who are looking for context-sensitive architecture rooted in material intelligence, spatial storytelling, and strong conceptual clarity. No matter the scale or location, our deeper ambition remains the same: to create spaces that feel inevitable, necessary, and deeply human.

Tectonic Lodging in Rhodes, Greece | image courtesy of Aristides Dallas Architects

DB: Aside from residential and hospitality spaces, are there other typologies—such as cultural, public, or commercial projects—that you would be interested in undertaking?

AD: Our team is eager to take on projects that engage with collective memory, civic function, and social gathering—whether that’s a cultural center, a public plaza, or an educational facility. These programs are a natural extension of our values: they require sensitivity to both place and people. In Greece, public tenders are often structured in ways that make access difficult for local studios. But we are committed to overcoming those limitations—through partnerships, collaborations, or design competitions that open up space for meaningful impact.

Our approach is not bound to a specific typology. Whether it’s residential, public, or cultural, we apply the same intensity of research, contextual understanding, and formal clarity. We’re always seeking projects that challenge us to rethink conventions and expand the possibilities of what architecture can do.

VOLAX | image courtesy of Aristides Dallas Architects | read more about the project here

DB: What are you working on at the moment? Any exciting plans for the future you can share with us?

AD: Right now, we’re working on several hospitality and residential projects across Greece, including some delicate renovations and hybrid programs that challenge the boundaries between private and shared space. But more importantly, we feel that the studio is entering a phase of redefinition. We want to experiment further, expand our typological scope, and establish creative collaborations abroad. This is not just about scaling up—it’s about deepening our architectural language and applying it to new contexts.

Over the past few years, our work has quietly traveled—through exhibitions, award selections, and word of mouth—reaching audiences beyond Greece. These moments of recognition remind us that architecture has the power to speak many languages, as long as it listens first. They continue to affirm what we believe at our core: Architecture, when grounded in place but open in spirit, can resonate across cultures—wherever it is built. We remain committed to designing with clarity, empathy, and depth—wherever a project takes us. Because in the end, architecture is less about where it starts, and more about how far it can resonate.

Aristides Dallas in his studio | image by Teramok

the Athens-based Aristides Dallas Architects team | image by Kirill Samarits

project info: 

architect: Aristides Dallas Architects | @aristidesdallasarchitects
studio location: Exarcheia, Athens, Greece

The post designboom steps inside aristides dallas architects’ athens studio, where context shapes form appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

Opening to the public on June 6th and on view through October 26th, the 2025 Serpentine Pavilion by Marina Tabassum Architects is now complete in London’s Kensington Gardens. Marking the 25th anniversary of the Serpentine’s architectural program, the pavilion, titled A Capsule in Time, explores themes of impermanence, tactility, and light through a modular, timber-built structure designed to move, adapt, and ultimately disappear. Ahead of the opening, Marina Tabassum discusses with designboom the ideas that shaped this year’s design.‘The pavilion is called A Capsule in Time for many reasons,’ Tabassum tells us during our interview. ‘One is that I find the connection between architecture and time quite intriguing (…) pavilions have a temporality, which is not about time but about a moment—to embrace and enjoy it.’

Aligned with Serpentine South’s historic bell tower, the elongated north-south structure is composed of four translucent capsules that dapple the space with shifting light. Tabassum draws inspiration from the hydrologic landscapes of Bangladesh, where ‘land constantly moves—it’s a situation where sand beds form, water takes the land away, and then it recreates it.’ This ephemerality is echoed in the building’s material choices. The architect works entirely in wood for the first time, not only for its dry-construction potential and future reuse, but also for its local availability. ‘We haven’t worked entirely with wood before because wood is not a material in Bangladesh as such… but here, it made sense,’ she explains.

Serpentine Pavilion 2025 A Capsule in Time, designed by Marina Tabassum, Marina Tabassum Architects (MTA). exterior view. © Marina Tabassum Architects (MTA) | image by Iwan Baan, courtesy of Serpentine

inside ‘a capsule in time’, knowledge can be shared freely

A kinetic capsule embedded within the Serpentine Pavilion structure allows parts of the pavilion to shift and expand for public programming. ‘It’s a movable part of the structure that can shift and connect with another section to create a larger, covered space. That’s where the kinetic element comes in.’ Marina Tabassum notes. At the heart of the pavilion stands a ginkgo tree—a resilient species dating back to the Jurassic Period. ‘That tree gives life to the whole pavilion,’ the architect shares with designboom. ‘Even though it’s within a park and surrounded by nature, having a tree inside the pavilion really changes the atmosphere.’

Tabassum also sees the pavilion as a place of quiet resistance, an antidote to rising global censorship. Bookshelves built into the capsules host a curated selection of texts in Bengali literature, poetry, ecology, and identity. ‘Some of them are by writers whose works have been banned in Bangladesh,’ she reveals during our discussion. ‘In a time when many books are being banned and education is being questioned (…) the very notion of knowledge feels under threat. So it felt important to bring that idea of books and knowledge into the pavilion—a space where knowledge can be shared freely.’ Continue reading to explore our full conversation with Marina Tabassum, this year’s Serpentine Pavilion architect.

marking the 25th anniversary of the Serpentine’s architectural program | image by Iwan Baan, courtesy of Serpentine

interview with Marina Tabassum 

designboom (DB): The Pavilion is called A Capsule in Time. What does that mean to you? What kind of histories, moments, or personal elements were you hoping to capture in this structure?

Marina Tabassum (MT):  The pavilion is called A Capsule in Time for many reasons. One is that I find the connection between architecture and time quite intriguing. We started architecture as a discipline with the notion that it would last forever. It’s almost like a continuity—when you’re not there, your architecture remains. So it continues through time. Timelessness has also been a way of looking into architecture—how you can make your buildings timeless, which is about defying time. At the same time, pavilions have a temporality, which is not about time but about a moment—to embrace and enjoy it. In the case of the Serpentine, it’s there for a five-month period—nice summer days, a beautiful sunny day like today—and then it’s gone. But it has a presence in the virtual realm, which is our new reality.

Where I come from, in Bangladesh, we have this notion of land as temporal. Land constantly moves—it’s a hydrologic situation where sand beds form, water takes the land away, and then it recreates it. So this idea of land being eroded and re-emerging also carries temporality. Architecture is associated with that, because people keep moving their houses from one place to another. I also bring in my way of practice. I come from a place defined by temporality, but I’ve always been very interested in light. A nice summer day in London can be really beautiful. That light can be celebrated if we create a space that lets it through. Light is an important element in this design. It also connects to pavilion structures in Bangladesh—ones we create for weddings or religious occasions, called shamiyanas. These shamiyana structures are made of cloth and bring in beautiful light. Bringing that sense, that atmosphere, into this space was also very important to me.

exploring themes of impermanence, tactility, and light | image by Iwan Baan, courtesy of Serpentine

DB: The translucent facade creates a play of light and shadow. What was the process behind achieving that dappled effect? Was it intentional from the start, or something that evolved along the way?

MT: The decision to bring in this very sort of translucent light into the space was intentional. That was one of the design intents. From the very beginning, that’s what we wanted for that space. But achieving that effect was a process. Initially, we were thinking of using jute and laminated jute; we looked into it and did some research.

But jute is a material that is not fire-rated, so it would not be allowed in the pavilion.

Then we had to look for something we could source locally here in London. So we settled for polycarbonate sheet with a translucent film on it. That actually helped us bring in the quality of light that we wanted. The building is maybe initiated in the Serpentine in Kensington Gardens, but it has an afterlife. That means there will be a continuity of this building in another location. So it will be used again—it won’t go into a landfill. That’s why we opted for a material of that nature.

Tabassum draws inspiration from the landscapes of Bangladesh | image by Iwan Baan, courtesy of Serpentine

DB: And what about working with wood for the first time entirely? What drew you to this material for the pavilion and how did it shape your approach?

MT: We haven’t worked entirely with wood before because wood is not a material in Bangladesh as such. The reason we used this material is because it’s something we could source locally here. And that’s one of our practice’s ethos—we like to source materials locally, where there’s also local knowledge of building. So using wood for the structure made more sense.

It’s also a dry construction. As you can imagine, it’s only here for a short period of time. That was another reason we chose a wooden structure, it can be dismantled and taken to a different location later on.

Serpentine 2025 Pavilion A Capsule in Time, designed by Marina Tabassum, Marina Tabassum Architects (MTA), design render, interior view | rendering © Marina Tabassum Architects (MTA), courtesy Serpentine

DB: The pavilion also features a kinetic element that moves and transforms the space. What inspired that idea? Were there any technical or design challenges in making it work?

MT: Not really. No, not in that sense. There was a budget challenge, but that’s always the case—nothing unusual. The main idea was to create a capsule-like form—sort of a half capsule—but we wanted it to feel more connected to the natural surroundings of the park. That’s why you see these openings or cuts in the structure: they’re designed to bring in elements of nature and create a balance between inside and outside.

The Serpentine Pavilion also serves a practical purpose. It hosts various events throughout the summer, so it was important to design a space that could accommodate around 200 people—even in rainy weather. That’s where the kinetic element comes in. It’s a movable part of the structure that can shift and connect with another section to create a larger, covered space. This allows the pavilion to expand when needed and provide shelter for bigger gatherings. So the kinetic feature had a functional reason behind it, but it also became an exciting design element—because no one had done something like that before in the Serpentine Pavilion. It adds a new and interesting layer to the experience.

the architect works entirely in wood for the first time | rendering © Marina Tabassum Architects (MTA), courtesy Serpentine

DB: You’ve built the pavilion around a ginkgo tree, which feels like a really meaningful choice. What led you to center the tree in the design, and how does that reflect your approach to climate-responsive architecture?

MT: Well, you know, the tree—I think that tree gives life to the whole pavilion. Otherwise, it’s a very archaic structural form. But the moment we brought in the tree, it transformed the space. Even though it’s within a park and surrounded by nature, having a tree inside the pavilion really changes the atmosphere. It brings life, and it gives the space a more intimate scale. That became one of the essential elements of the entire design. We really wanted to incorporate nature—not just to serve people, but to create a space that also celebrates nature. We were thoughtful about what kind of tree it should be. The idea was that once the pavilion is dismantled, the tree would be replanted somewhere in the park so it can continue to live.

We needed a tree that was strong and rugged, something that could withstand being transported and replanted. At the same time, it needed to be compatible with the plant community already in the park. So we looked for something that could meet all of those needs—but also something beautiful and light, that would sit harmoniously inside the pavilion. That’s how we chose the ginkgo tree. It has a beautiful, fan-shaped leaf—very sculptural, which I really loved. And towards the end of the season, in September or October, the leaves turn this beautiful yellow. So we’ll hopefully see that transformation as the pavilion nears its end. It’s poetic in a way—sustainability and poetry coming together in one gesture.

the structure allows parts of the pavilion to shift and expand | rendering © Marina Tabassum Architects (MTA), courtesy Serpentine

DB: In times of rising censorship, you’ve spoken about knowledge-sharing. How does the pavilion become a tool for resistance, if at all?

MT: Well, knowledge sharing is an important part of our practice—especially wherever we build. In the houses we’re building now, we try to work closely with the community. We share building knowledge with people so they’re able to eventually build on their own. That’s a core part of our approach. And the way we wanted to bring that idea of knowledge sharing into the pavilion was by introducing a small library alongside the café. We’re bringing in a range of books—different kinds of books.

Some of them are by writers whose works have been banned in Bangladesh. So you’ll see some of those there too. The idea is that, in a time when many books are being banned and education is being questioned or restructured in different parts of the world, the very notion of knowledge feels under threat. So it felt important to bring that idea of books and knowledge into the pavilion—a space where knowledge can be shared freely. We also want it to be a space for dialogue, where people can come together and, despite all our differences, celebrate our uniqueness.

Marina Tabassum portrait | image © Asif Salman

project info: 

name: A Capsule in Time
architect: Marina Tabassum, Marina Tabassum Architects (MTA) | @marinatabassum
location: Serpentine South, Kensington Gardens, London, UK

event: Serpentine Pavilion | @serpentineuk
dates: June 6th – October 26th 2025

The post marina tabassum on designing the 2025 serpentine pavilion as it opens in london appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

Lagos-based architecture practice Oshinowo Studio brings ‘Alternative Urbanism: self-organising markets of Lagos‘ to the 19th International Architecture Exhibition of the Venice Biennale, spotlighting three of the city’s most dynamic informal markets—Ladipo, Computer Village, and Katangua. Invited by curator Carlo Ratti to respond to his circular economy manifesto, the studio explores how these systems repurpose waste from the global north into valuable goods, offering a powerful model of embedded circularity. ‘These markets don’t work just as places of commerce and exchange,’ notes founder Tosin Oshinowo in an exclusive interview with designboom. ‘What is fascinating is the factory-like process that occurs when a source material is re-appropriated and adapted through different sectors in these markets,’ she tells us. Through immersive film, photography, data visualisations, and recycled denim maps crafted in Katangua, the exhibition reframes Lagos’s markets as complex infrastructures of ingenuity, shaped by scarcity and sustained by collective intelligence.

Rejecting voyeuristic representations of African spaces, the installation at the Arsenale avoids still images of deprivation and instead offers a technical view into the working mechanics of these markets. ‘It was important that the narrative be optimistic; after all, I live and work in Lagos,’ Oshinowo says. ‘I do not see what happens here as backwards or deprived; I see this as fascinating, innovative, and the other extreme of global capitalism,’ she adds. With her team’s mapping, video documentation, and textile production done within Katangua, the pavilion elevates local material knowledge to an international stage. In doing so, it delivers a clear message to Biennale visitors.‘The biggest lesson and shift in perspective I hope to share and inspire with this global audience is that we all can do more with less,’ Tosin Oshinowo suggests.

Alternative Urbanism: self-organising markets of Lagos at the Arsenale | image by Paul Raftery

Oshinowo Studio offers a blueprint for adaptive urban futures

Ladipo Market deals in second-hand car parts; Computer Village in used electronics; and Katangua in recycled fashion. While their contents differ, their shared value lies in how they extend the life of consumer goods through a communal network of reuse, repair, and resale. ‘These specialist markets emerge across the city in white and brown-fill sites, residential zones, and defunct industrial parks,’ Tosin Oshinowo shares with designboom. ‘Through a collective intelligence, the city operates at a sophisticated level outside of orthodox methodologies and functions at scale without the expected industrialized infrastructure.’ Her exhibition doesn’t romanticize the struggle but rather reframes Lagos’s informal urban systems as prototypes for sustainable cities—systems built from adaptation, making them increasingly relevant in a time of global resource scarcity.

As Oshinowo explains, these spaces represent ‘a glimpse into an urban condition without imperialism, colonialism, and modernism imposed on the continent.’ Far from being symbols of deprivation, the markets are framed as energetic ecosystems shaped by ‘bottom-up structures and soft-power systems.’ Located in areas ranging from residential zones to defunct industrial parks, each market illustrates the kind of grassroots adaptability often excluded from conventional urban planning. With Nigeria’s currency devalued by 700% since 2005 and most of the population living on under $2 a day, these markets respond with a resilience that blends necessity with aspiration. ‘The majority of Africa is urbanized but not industrialized,’ the Lagos-based architect explains. ‘This situation creates an urban condition that is alternative to conventional expectations of progress and development.’ Read on for our full interview with Tosin Oshinowo.

the studio explores how these systems repurpose waste | image by Paul Raftery

interview with Tosin Oshinowo

designboom (DB): Alternative Urbanism is a powerful title—how does it reflect your view of Lagos’s informal markets, and in what ways do they challenge conventional models of urban planning and sustainability?

Tosin Oshinowo (TO): The title is impactful; however, it simply states a reality that occurs as parallel development with the rest of the world. The majority of Africa is urbanized but not industrialized, and this situation creates an urban condition that is alternative to conventional expectations of progress and development. This research project uses the informal market as an entry point to understand this condition. Lagos is a heightened example of this condition because of its critical mass—the city has 0.3% of Nigeria’s surface area and 10% of its population, 26.4 million. With insufficient industrialized infrastructure, it is challenging to manage the city structurally. This density allows us to observe this condition in concentration. These markets happen when bottom-up structures and soft-power systems come to the foreground.

Rem Koolhaas’ research in the late 1990s and early 2000s observed that the urban condition in Lagos defied orthodox planning methodologies. Here, I suggest that instead of defying these methodologies, what we observe in the city condition reverts to an evolution from tradition. It could be considered a glimpse into an urban condition without imperialism, colonialism, and modernism imposed on the continent. The informal African market is the most unadulterated urban artifact of our city’s developmental framework. It is the fabric of the commons, a shared space everyone contributes to and shares in its benefits. The markets operate in a capitalist model and outside of it. The markets have evolved from pre-colonial times to their present state in the post-colonial African city. Holding more than just places of commerce and exchange, but also of divine importance. In Yorùbá culture from southwest Nigeria, the market holds divine significance in mythology as it is seen as the point of final departure for the soul from the earth (ilé) as it rightfully returns to the heavens (òrun).

recycled denim maps crafted in Katangua | image by Paul Raftery

DB: Carlo Ratti’s circular economy manifesto set the tone for this year’s Biennale. How did it resonate with your existing observations of Lagos, and what discoveries emerged from your research into these self-organizing markets?

TO: When I first read Carlo Ratti’s manifesto, I was excited that this research resonated with the theme and perfect timing. There is nothing more euphoric than realizing that you are part of a change movement. Circularity has been a long-standing practice in regions that deal with austerity. It is encouraging that there is a growing understanding globally that we all need to embody this methodology. When I started the research on the markets, it was initially out of an interest to understand how global south cities function at scale with inadequate infrastructure.

As I developed this narrative, I observed how sophisticated the system of markets and circularity is embedded into commerce and city life. I observed that due to Nigeria’s challenged economic condition and the reality of desires to live in modernity, capital-intensive consumer products are outside of the immediate reach of the average Nigerian consumer, with the Nigerian Naira devalued by 700% since 2005. These markets don’t work just as places of commerce and exchange. Several specialist markets sell second-hand products considered redundant from the global north. What is fascinating is the factory-like process that occurs when a source material is re-appropriated and adapted through different sectors in these markets. These markets effectively take waste from the global north and extend product life while producing less carbon.

the exhibition reframes Lagos’s markets as complex infrastructures of ingenuity | image by Andrea Avezzù

DB: Ladipo, Computer Village, and Katangua each represent a different kind of circular ingenuity. Why these three, and what do they collectively reveal about resilience and resourcefulness in urban Nigeria?

TO: So far, the research has documented 80+ specialist markets, as the convergence of like-for-like across the city’s urban fabric has been fascinating. I selected these three markets for the exhibition because their content deals with circularity. Like all markets, they deal with consumer goods, but these three represent staples of modernity. And the opportunity for people in these regions to afford capital-intensive consumer goods like cars, electronics, and clothes. Where does the hyperconsumerist global north dispose of its waste? Today, two-thirds of Nigerians live on less than $2 a day. These conditions create the fertile ground to harbor this kind of circularity not seen before structural adjustment programs imposed on the global south from the mid-1980s and early 1990s.

the installation offers a technical view into the working mechanics of these markets | image by Andrea Avezzù

DB: Your pavilion merges data, video, and recycled textiles to evoke the atmosphere of the markets. How did you navigate the challenge of capturing their energy and complexity within the formal setting of the Arsenale?

TO: It was challenging, particularly because I was mindful not to share this as a narrative of deprivation, which can easily come across by using still images from Africa. It was important that the narrative be optimistic; after all, I live and work in Lagos. I do not see what happens here as backwards or deprived; I see this as fascinating, innovative, and the other extreme of global capitalism.

The essence of the immersive film of the market captured a narrative of intense activity and optimism. It was a great privilege for the team to have access to film and photograph these spaces, and we do not take for granted the immense trust we have been given. It was also important that this did not become just an immersive film; we wanted to ensure that we showed a technical prowess to document the urban condition of these markets, which we showed through a series of mappings taken of each market and its surrounding urban fabric. The medium we used to show these was heat-transfer graphics placed in recycled denim patchwork, all produced in the Katangua market. Coupled with pause moments captured through photography, it created a visual language that was intriguing and enigmatic in its context.

immersive film, photography and data visualisations shape the exhibition | image by Paul Raftery

DB: The notion of ‘communal intelligence’ underpins your curatorial narrative. How do these markets embody that idea, and what lessons might formal design systems draw from it?

TO: The specialist markets in Lagos are informal; the state does not plan them, and they have emerged due to specific conducive political, social, and economic conditions. These markets as individual nodes have clear governing and management structures. Still, observing from the macro level, it’s fascinating to see that through a collective intelligence, the city operates at a sophisticated level outside of orthodox methodologies and functions at scale without the expected industrialized infrastructure. It is outside of conventional ways of thinking about the modern city, which tends to be the top-down result of the collective few. These specialist markets emerge across the city in white and brown-fill sites, residential zones, and defunct industrial parks. These markets resonate with the theme of communal intelligence, highlighting the system that speaks to an alternative urbanism, which contributes sparingly to our global carbon challenge in their operation and an optimistic conversation on circularity.

Katangua Market overview | image by Andrew Esiebo

DB: With a global audience in Venice, what shifts in perception about African cities—especially Lagos—do you hope this exhibition might provoke or inspire?

TO: The world can learn a lot from African cities. This region, which is the least industrialized yet urbanized, contributes the least to global carbon emissions while suffering some of the most severe damage. The biggest lesson and shift in perspective I hope to share and inspire with this global audience is that we all can do more with less.

market stall at Computer Village | image by Nengi Nelson

project info:

name: Alternative Urbanism: self-organising markets of Lagos

architect – curator: Lagos-based | @oshinowo.studio

founder & lead curator: Tosin Oshinowo | @tosin.oshinowo

location: Arsenale, Venice, Italy

program: Venice Architecture Biennale | @labiennale

dates: May 10th — November 23rd, 2025

photographers: Paul Raftery | @paulrafterystudio, Andrea Avezzù | @ave_zz, Andrew Esiebo | @andrewesiebo, Nengi Nelson | @nenginelson1, Taran Wilkhu | @taranwilkhu, Amanda Iheme | @amandaiheme, Olarenwaju Ali | @olanrewaju_v

The post ‘we all can do more with less’: oshinowo studio brings lagos’ markets to the venice biennale appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.