The judging process for Architizer's 14th A+Awards is now underway. Subscribe to our Awards Newsletter to receive updates about Public Voting, and stay tuned — winners will be announced later this spring.  

For decades, urban planning has operated under a constant daytime bias. Our streets, parks and plazas are designed to peak during the 9-to-5 window, with almost no attention to anyone outside that window. Historically, this transition from day to night has been treated as a functional off switch, with cities managing the dark hours through the narrow, clinical lenses of basic visibility or reactive policing.

This traditional approach ignores a fundamental reality: the city doesn’t sleep.

When we design only for daylight, we ignore the second half of the day and the diverse population that inhabits it, from healthcare workers and logistics crews to hospitality staff. The scale of this oversight is massive. According to the World Economic Forum (2024), New York City’s nighttime economy generates over $35.1 billion annually and supports 300,000 jobs, while in London, the nighttime sector contributes £26 billion and employs more than one million people.

Recognising this, a shift in urban governance is taking place. Several years ago, the Netherlands pioneered the role of the Night Mayor (Nachtburgemeester), a municipal title for someone who represents and develops a city’s life after dark. This movement has since gone global; Amy Lamé serves as London’s first Night Czar, and Washington, D.C. has established a Director of the Mayor’s Office of Nightlife and Culture. These officials act as essential mediators between daytime bureaucracy and nighttime reality.

At this intersection, Nighttime Urbanism enters the conversation. This strategic planning approach to the design and management of cities between 6 PM and 6 AM aims to create safe, dynamic and inclusive 24-hour environments. By balancing the needs of the nighttime economy (such as culture, entertainment and logistics) with the requirements of night-shift workers and residents, as well as ecological sustainability, nighttime urbanism ensures that the city remains a living, breathing entity long after the sun goes down.

The Economic Reality of the 24-Hour City

Chinatown Night Market by di Domenico + Partners, New York City, New York

When we discuss the “night economy,” we often think of neon signs and crowded dance floors. While culture and leisure are vital, they are only the visible tip of a massive economic iceberg.

Today’s 24-hour city is a complex machine powered by a diverse, often invisible workforce that keeps the metropolis’s heart beating. The scale of this “second shift” is becoming a primary driver of urban policy.

In the United Kingdom, the Night Time Industries Association (NTIA) reported in 2025 that the nighttime economy accounts for 6% of the UK’s total GDP. Furthermore, data from the Office for National Statistics (ONS) shows that roughly 27% of the total UK workforce (about 8.7 million people) now work during the night.

Also, in the United States, mid-sized cities are showing similar economic weight. According to a 2025 report from the International Downtown Association (IDA), nighttime spending in US 24-hour districts has grown 15% faster than daytime retail spending since 2022. In Philadelphia, a recent study by Econsult Solutions found that the nighttime economy has a total annual impact of $30.4 billion. Crucially, the largest share of this (nearly 40%) comes from “Night Shift Industries” like healthcare, logistics, and emergency services, rather than just food and beverage. Similarly, in Atlanta, the nighttime sector generates $5.1 billion in direct revenue annually, supporting over 41,000 jobs.

AVILA New Nightscape Masterplan by AUREOLIGHTING, Ávila, Spain

For architects and urban planners, these figures represent a massive, underserved demographic. If a city’s economy relies on billions of dollars generated between 6 PM and 6 AM, the physical environment must reflect that value.

Supporting this economy requires moving beyond surviving the night and toward thriving in it. However, the experience of the 24-hour city is not universal; it is also deeply shaped by gender and identity. For women, non-binary individuals and the LGBTQ+ community, the second half of the day often brings a heightened negotiation with the built environment — that is, higher alert. True nighttime urbanism must, therefore, prioritise inclusive infrastructure that goes beyond basic illumination to address perceived and actual safety.

This means designing well-lit transit hubs for the 3 AM nurse, but also ensuring those hubs have “eyes on the street” and clear lines of sight to reduce the feeling of isolation. It involves creating 24-hour third spaces that offer refuge and utility for shift workers and students alike.

For the LGBTQ+ community, nighttime urbanism is also about preserving and protecting queer space. As many traditional LGBTQ+ venues face closure due to rising rents, urban planning must moderate to ensure these safe havens are integrated into the city’s permanent fabric, rather than pushed to the dark, industrial periphery.

From “Daytime Bias” to Architectural Agency

Chinatown Night Market by di Domenico + Partners, New York City, New York

As designers, our professional development is currently inhibited by a pervasive daytime bias. Throughout our education and practice, we are taught to prioritize the aesthetic and functional properties of the built environment under the sun. We render buildings for noon-day clarity, study shadow diagrams for solar gain, and conceptualise masterplans as static, 9-to-5. Even when we personally admire the night city, our representational tools (and by extension, our design instincts) tend to treat the night as a binary off switch rather than a dynamic, distinct design phase. We must face the fact that our current architectural toolkit is largely “solar-centric.” If we only visualize space through the high-contrast lens of daylight, we basically blind ourselves to 50% of the city’s actual operational life.

However, we are at a critical tipping point. As the 24-hour economy becomes a foundational pillar of productivity, and as our climate crisis necessitates more robust adaptation, the night is re-emerging as a frontier for architectural innovation. As daytime temperatures in urban heat islands reach extreme levels, the nighttime use of parks, plazas, and transit hubs becomes a necessary adaptation to keep cities livable.

Frozen Trees by LIKEarchitects, Lisbon, Portugal

We can see the early seeds of this shift in contemporary practice, beginning with the power of tactical activation and modularity.

For example, the Chinatown Night Market in New York shows that nighttime infrastructure does not require massive, permanent construction to succeed. By using a tailored, modular layout for vendor stations and infrastructure, the design team successfully transformed an underutilised plaza into a 24-hour economic engine. This project proves that flexible, human-centric design can successfully invite foot traffic during previously dead hours, showing how we can make our cities more welcoming and accessible by simply reconsidering the temporal choreography of existing civic space.

Beyond temporary activations, we must also explore the potential of atmospheric typology and material innovation. Projects like Frozen Trees in Lisbon and the Open-Air Market in Bangkok challenge the permanence of architectural form. The former uses temporary, ethereal lighting to transform a standard civic square into a sensory nighttime landscape. At the same time, the latter elevates the traditional tent typology into a fixed, semi-permanent structure that accommodates changes in commercial events.

Open-Air Market by STA, Bangkok, Thailand

Also, we must scale these interventions to the systemic level, as shown by the Ávila New Nightscape Masterplan in Spain. This project represents a necessary change in how we view urban lighting, treating light as a precious, non-renewable resource — much like water or energy. By balancing the complex requirements of tourism, economic activity, and safety with the essential ecological need to reduce light pollution and restore the visibility of the stars, the project frames architecture not as a static object but as a dynamic system that intervenes among human experience, economic necessity, and environmental integrity.

So, to design for the 24-hour city, we must abandon the copy-paste approach of daytime planning and instead adopt a nighttime lens: one that prioritizes the sensory experience of the 3 AM nurse, the ecological impact of our light footprints, and the social equity of our public spaces. This requires a new commitment to “night-rendering,” modelling the city as it truly is: a complex, layered and perpetually active organism.

The judging process for Architizer's 14th A+Awards is now underway. Subscribe to our Awards Newsletter to receive updates about Public Voting, and stay tuned — winners will be announced later this spring.  

The post The City Doesn’t Sleep: Nighttime Urbanism and Architecture’s Daytime Bias appeared first on Journal.

Architizer's diverse jury of global experts is currently reviewing submissions to the 14th A+Awards! Sign up to receive updates on Public Voting and spring winner announcements.

Ask any AI platform to write an architectural concept statement, and the result will feel strangely familiar. Vague phrases such as “the building establishes a dialogue with the landscape”, “the façade acts as a porous urban threshold,” or “the structure serves as a catalyst for community interaction” appear in most architecture texts — from competition entries and awards submissions to press releases and project descriptions. Yet, after reading them, it is often impossible to answer a simple question: what does the building actually do? And, for that matter, what role did the architect play in making design decisions?

Paradoxically, artificial intelligence exposes this problem rather than causing it, simply reproducing the empty language it has learned from architects themselves.

How did architectural writing become so abstract? Competition culture encourages impressive, often ostentatious language, while academic influence introduces theoretical vocabulary that is not always accompanied by the rigor or references that originally gave it substance, and — from a market point of view — PR agencies frame projects through flamboyant storytelling instead of providing more practical narratives. To some extent, AI mirrors this writing practice, but it also reveals a very interesting dynamic: in order to generate a text that is freed from clichés, architects must provide a clear prompt, a clear idea and a clear objective.

In other words, a clear brief is the strongest communication tool in the architect’s arsenal and yet is oftentimes the most overlooked. Pulling three projects (and their descriptions) from the Architizer Database, we will explore how strong texts define as well as produce architecture that can be explained clearly, answering the questions of:

• The Brief – What problem needs solving?
• The Constraint – What made the project difficult?
• The Design Move – How does the architecture respond?
• The Result – What the building actually does.

Weishan Chongzheng Academy Bookstore of Librairie Avant-Garde

By Trace Architecture Office, Dali, China

Jury Winner, Commercial Renovations and Additions, 13th Architizer A+Awards

The Brief: The project’s aim was to repair and renovate the historic Chongzheng Academy in Weishan Ancient Town, turning it into a multifunctional bookstore that includes spaces for exhibitions, a theatre and a café. Additionally, this intervention intends to revitalize the surrounding area and reactivate the cultural life of the town.

The Constraint: The site includes a 500-year-old academy, a 330-year-old banyan tree, and a 1960s iron factory with a preserved wooden structure. Consequently, any design gesture needed to preserve and protect these historic elements, while introducing new spatial connections between the new and the ancient town.

The Design Move: The project conserves the historic walls, the wooden structures and the surrounding vegetation while inserting two lightweight Book Galleries that reconnect the academy’s courtyards and create spaces for reading and cultural events. The intervention strategy is surgical and strategic, working closely with the existing context.

The Result: The academy is reactivated as a public cultural destination that supports the community and takes advantage of the history and the “artifacts” found on site. The architecture becomes an agent of preservation, insertion and connection, creating a multifaceted civic space.

Fog Bridge

By Art+Zen Architects, Rongcheng City, China

Popular Winner, Unbuilt Transportation, 12th Architizer A+Awards

The Brief: As part of the renovation of the Sangganhe Botanical Garden in Rongcheng, the project required a new bridge to connect the two sides of the Sanggan River. Apart from the bridge acting as a transitional circulation space, the aim was to create a structure that would incorporate a park and support community gatherings.

The Constraint: The bridge design had to accommodate both pedestrian and bicycle circulation, without disrupting the botanical garden’s vegetation and views. In parallel, the structure needed to cover the span of the river using as few supports as possible in order to not to disturb the natural landscape.

The Design Move: The project transforms the bridge into a hybrid infrastructure that simultaneously shapes space. Separate lanes organize bicycle and pedestrian circulation, while a spiral path links the bridge to the café below and to a viewing platform above the river. Structurally, a wooden truss system stabilized with metal cables allows for a large span with minimal piers.

The Result: The project reframes a simple infrastructural requirement and turns it into an opportunity to expand the area’s public space. Consequently, a bridge that usually functions solely as a crossing becomes a connection as well as a horticultural destination.

The Perch

By Nicole Blair, Austin, Texas

Finalist, Residential Renovations and Additions, 12th Architizer A+Awards

The Brief: The clients, a hairstylist and a landscape designer, needed a flexible studio space that could accommodate work, guests and occasional living. At the same time, they wanted to preserve their backyard landscape and avoid relocating during construction. Consequently, the design had to be a compact addition and minimal intervention that could expand the functionality of the existing bungalow.

The Constraint: The project had to overcome several issues such as preserving the mature backyard landscape, comply to local building regulations and limiting construction disruption. Furthermore, the addition had to be lightweight and occupy a small footprint while providing sufficient, flexible space for multiple uses.

The Design Move: A compact 660-square-foot (61 square meter) structure is designed above the existing bungalow. To preserve the surrounding vegetation, the addition rests on four steel columns – three of which pass through the bungalow walls to stabilize the structure – allowing the ground-level landscape to remain largely untouched. The plan follows a split-level organization combined with vaulted ceilings to create a sense of spatial generosity, while integrating ample amounts of storage. Finally, multiple building components were prefabricated off-site to minimize construction disturbance.

The Result: By concentrating the building footprint and lifting the program above the roofline, the project expands the home’s capacity without sacrificing the landscape that initially defined it.

What Architects Can Learn From This Exercise

Across these briefs, a clear pattern emerges: strong projects often begin with a clearly articulated problem, and a successful design brief makes the logic of the architecture immediately legible. What happens, though, when architecture has no problems to solve? What about all the luxury villas or the iconic buildings, whose aim is primarily aesthetic dominance or imposing status? In these cases, the brief serves as justification rather than articulation, and this perhaps is why architectural language has drifted towards metaphor.

Not every project needs to solve a problem. However, the ones that are grounded in clear briefs and real constraints tend to produce the most substantive architecture. And the best part? AI tools may promote this kind of thinking by exposing the ideas that lack specificity. Because AI is remarkably good at repeating architectural clichés and remarkably bad at hiding them.

Architizer's diverse jury of global experts is currently reviewing submissions to the 14th A+Awards! Sign up to receive updates on Public Voting and spring winner announcements.

The post Architects’ Guide: Writing Project Descriptions That Actually Explain the Architecture appeared first on Journal.

Architizer's 14th A+Awards judging is live! Subscribe to our Awards Newsletter for updates on Public Voting and the big winner reveal later this spring.

Contrary to popular belief, architects don’t spend their days heroically sketching skylines. Instead, architectural practice unfolds somewhere between caffeine management, problem translation, and negotiating reality — usually all at once.

I am certain that documentaries such as Abstract: The Art of Design with Bjarke Ingels have painted the image of an architect as a visionary auteur: the refined sketch, the elegant (albeit budget-breaking) solution, the high-end client dinners. But for most architects, a day in the life looks less like a design montage and more like controlled chaos with lineweights.

Here are 25 very possible reality scripts that architects encounter before 6:00 p.m. — and often long after.

9:00 A.M. – Arrive at the Office

Option Coffee Bar by TOUCH Architect, Udon Thani, Thailand, Popular Choice Winner, Bars & Nightclubs, 8th Annual A+Awards

1. Make coffee. Then forget about it. Then microwave it. Then abandon it again.

2. Reopen yesterday’s drawing and immediately question every decision you made as a person.

3. Open the BIM model to “quickly adjust one wall.” Trigger 46 warnings. Close nothing.

4. Check email. Respond to one message. Receive seven more.

5. Say “Let’s revisit the concept” before fully remembering what the concept was.

6. Open 23 browser tabs labeled “precedent.” Close none of them.

12:00 P.M. – Before Lunch

Stairs for Life: Khadar Villa by NAM Office, Shandiz, Iran

7. Design a staircase. Redesign it for structure. Redesign it again for the budget. Quietly mourn Version One.

8. Spend 20 minutes choosing the typeface for a presentation title that will be skimmed in 12 seconds.

9. Spend 40 minutes looking at materials to decide that wood and concrete were the best options all along.

10. Print a drawing. Immediately discover five mistakes that did not exist on screen.

11. Attend a coordination meeting where everyone agrees and nothing changes.

12. Break for lunch. Browse through door handles while eating.

3:00 P.M. – Post-Lunch Crash

A House Looking to a Cedrus Tree by Cedrus Studio, Vineh, Iran | Popular Choice Winner, Architecture +Brick, 13th Architizer A+Awards

13. Make a fresh pot of coffee. Drink it in five minutes.

14. Open a detail from 2017. Whisper, “This was better.”

15. Draw a perfect 1:5 junction. Realize it will be built from the 1:100 plan.

16. Check the code. Check it again. Put it in ChatGPT. Interpret the code.

17. Explain that moving one column affects five disciplines and two weeks of programming.

18. Zoom in to 800% to adjust a lineweight no one will consciously notice, but everyone will feel.

6:00 P.M. – Ready to Leave

Conceptual Diagram, image generated by Serra Utkum Ikiz using Gemini 3 Pro Image 

19. Plan to leave at 6:00. Open one more file at 5:52.

20. Move a door 75mm. Update six sheets.

21. Rename files with increasing emotional intensity: final, final_final, final_FINAL_use_this_one, final_FINAL_revised_v3.

22. Export to PDF. Realize the scale is wrong. Export again.

23. Close everything. Reopen one file. Start a “quick” test render pass using Nano Banana just “for fun”. Leave the computer on like a nightlight.

24. Pack the bag. Slide the favorite Moleskine in, like tomorrow will finally be the breakthrough.

25. Lock the office. Continue designing in your head.

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Featured Image: RiA_015_PP_OFFICE_RENOVATION by RiA architects, Concept

The post What Do Architects Actually Do All Day? appeared first on Journal.

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“Sustainable” has become architecture’s most overused and least interrogated word.

As someone who reads architects’ project descriptions for a living, several things have become quite clear to me. First of all, the term sustainability appears in project descriptions as a reflex — appended to the end of a paragraph, followed by a brief list of certifications, material percentages or mechanical systems. More often than not, it is treated as a virtue signal, a technical compliance note or a marketing tag. Rarely is it positioned as the architectural premise.

The problem is not that architects lack commitment to environmental performance; rather, it’s that sustainability has been flattened into branding language. When everything is described as sustainable, the word stops meaning anything; and when the meaning of a word is vague, it becomes expendable.

The Add-On Syndrome

Princeton University Central Energy Facilities by ZGF Architects, Princeton, New Jersey | Popular Choice Winner, Sustainable Institutional Building, 13th Architizer A+Awards 

Scan enough project submissions, and a pattern emerges. The design narrative leads with the client’s needs for the commission or the challenges presented by the site. Form and aesthetic considerations come next, and sustainability follows later. At best, environmentally-minded design decisions are introduced as a set of secondary measures: high-performance glazing, green roofs, and efficient systems. Important decisions, certainly, but rarely framed as drivers of the architecture itself. This sequencing reinforces the perception that sustainability is an overlay rather than an organizing principle. At worst, sustainable measures are listed without elaboration: passive cooling is great, but what is it about the design that ensures the building is cooled passively?

Meanwhile, some of the most consequential projects today demonstrate the opposite. Princeton University Central Energy Facilities places energy systems at the center of its architectural expression, making infrastructure legible rather than concealed. The building’s identity is inseparable from its environmentally minded function. It does not hide sustainability behind cladding; it builds form from and expression from it.

Milence Truck Charging by Proof of the sum, Europe | Popular Choice Winner, Sustainable Transportation Project, 13th Architizer A+Awards

Similarly, Milence Truck Charging reframes transportation infrastructure as spatial and environmental architecture. Here, decarbonization is not a checkbox but the project’s core premise. The designers take the green transition as a jumping-off point for elaborating a new, scalable architectural language — one formed with distinct bio-based materials and premised on the logic of prefabrication and modularity.

These examples point to a different narrative sequence: sustainability first, architecture through it. Furthermore, these projects are creating a new design language to express changes to societal behavioural patterns: form celebrates new functions — geothermal energy and electric vehicles necessitate new ways both of building and behaving. The architectural reasoning and expression behind these new infrastructures is a consequential representational matter.

When Clients Assume “Sustainable” Means Expensive

Stone Mill Lofts by The Architectural Team, Inc., Lawrence, Massachusetts | Popular Choice Winner, Sustainable Adaptive Reuse/Renovation Project, 13th Architizer A+Awards

Another dimension of sustainability’s branding problem is economic. Many clients still equate environmental ambition with additional cost (premium materials, complex systems, extended timelines, etc.). And architects are partly responsible for this perception. When sustainability is described as a collection of add-ons, it reads as extra. When it is embedded in form, orientation, material selection and long-term adaptability, it becomes integral. Presented this way, it is more easily argued and demonstrated that a building rooted in the logic of green transition becomes more cost-effective over time.

Projects like Stone Mill Lofts exemplify how adaptive reuse can reduce embodied carbon while preserving character and controlling costs. Read the project’s description on Architizer — the future-forward environmental decisions are baked into every aspect of the design’s explanation.

Likewise, the project description for the Brooklyn Diary Project leads with an explanation of how the programmatic ethos permeates every aspect of the design. It is a given that this logic of reuse and minimal resource consumption results in a structure that is less environmentally taxing. Sustainability is not inherently expensive; poorly integrated sustainability is.

Beyond the Word Itself

Brooklyn Diary Project by Yujin CAO + Xiaofan YE, Brooklyn, New York | Popular Choice Winner, Sustainable Non-Residential Project, 13th Architizer A+Awards

One of the discipline’s challenges is linguistic. “Sustainability” has become a catch-all term that obscures specificity. If architects want to elevate their building’s environmental performance, reflecting their design intelligence, the language they use must evolve. As Michael Green has articulated, “it’s time to recognize that we are on a path toward sustainability, but we are not sustainable yet, and there are no sustainable buildings.”

Let’s return to the core meaning of the word for a minute: according to the U.N., “sustainable” refers to “meeting the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.” Crucially, there is an ethical dimension to the term, which encompasses environmental, economic and social elements. While certain aspects of a building may be sustainable, the current systems we rely on — supply chains, material processes, housing and development models, etc. — render it nearly impossible for a building to be sustainable in its totality.

The Catalyst Building by MGA | Michael Green Architecture and Katerra, Spokane, Washington | Photo by Benjamin Benschneider | Jury Winner, Best Sustainable Firm, 13th Architizer A+Awards

This is where architects come in. Decisions about labor, materials and program can all help change larger societal structures. (It should be noted that I am not saying that architects bear all the weight of this responsibility, but, as an industry with a wider-reaching impact, design decisions do bear significant weight.)

Hence, instead of defaulting to “sustainable,” architects should consider more precise framing for their design logic, opting to show rather than tell — to explain how a design works, rather than to rely on technical jargon or listing technical features.

Redefining Architectural Identity

PDX Terminal Balancing & Concourse E Extension by Hennebery Eddy Architects and Fentress Architects, Portland, Oregon | Popular Choice Winner, Best Sustainable Firm, 13th Architizer A+Awards

Some practices have already begun to define their architectural identity not through aesthetic signatures, but through expertise in environmental systems and material innovation, as well as advocacy. As mentioned earlier, Michael Green has become a prominent voice advocating for a revolution in design. His firm’s work foregrounds structural carbon reduction as an architectural proposition. Locally sourced timber is not applied as an ethical veneer; it is deployed as a systemic strategy that not only reshapes form but also the production process, beginning with supply chains.

Not dissimilarly, Hennebery Eddy Architects foregrounds preservation and adaptation in the commissions they select. Their work not only demonstrates that sustainably-minded design can be embedded in rehabilitation strategies, extending building life while enhancing efficiency, but it also elevates the status of such work, which has historically been framed as “lesser-than” when compared with new builds.

In these examples, sustainability is not a separate agenda; rather, it is a mindset that shapes how architecture is practiced.

Scale and Substance

HSBC, New York by M Moser Associates, New York City, New York | Popular Choice Winner, Sustainable Commercial Building, 13th Architizer A+Awards

Environmental responsibility is not limited to cultural or academic projects. Corporate and commercial buildings are equally capable of integrating sustainability as a design driver.

The HSBC New York Headquarters shows how retrofitting existing commercial infrastructure can dramatically improve operational performance while preserving embodied carbon. Meanwhile, Wencheng Biology Expo Park demonstrates how ecological planning and scientific programming can align to create landscape-integrated development. Even hospitality and education projects are redefining environmental ambition. Umoya Boutique Hotel integrates passive cooling and local material strategies into its spatial character, while Xiangshan International Kindergarten uses daylight, enclosure and orientation as pedagogical tools as much as environmental ones.

Across typologies, the pattern is clear: when sustainability is architectural, it becomes legible, producing spaces and places with a presence that is distinct from the architecture of generations past.

Recognition and Rigor

Umoya Boutique Hotel by SkreinStudios, Cape Town, South Africa | Popular Choice Winner, Sustainable Hospitality Building, 13th Architizer A+Awards

Awards play a subtle but powerful role in shaping what architects prioritize. When sustainability is evaluated superficially — reduced to checklists or buzzwords — it reinforces branding or marketing over thoughtfulness and innovation, both signs of rigorous approaches to design. When architects flesh out how their design pushes against the status quo, they collectively elevate the expectations for their profession to produce substantive work.

Recognition frameworks that elevate low-carbon systems, adaptive reuse strategies and climate-responsive planning send a clear signal: sustainability is a form of architectural intelligence, not a decorative virtue or a technical add-on. For architects, this requires a shift in narrative. Environmental performance should not be relegated to the final paragraph of a project description; it should anchor the first.

A Call for Precision

Xiangshan International Kindergarten by Yang Ying Design Studio, Changsha, China | Jury Winner, Sustainable Institutional Building, 13th Architizer A+Awards

Sustainable design practices do not need better marketing — what the movement needs is sharper language and clearer metrics that establish them as a new way of architectural thinking. It’s great that we have certifications like LEED and more, but the general publi needs to better understand the innovations that drive buildings to achieve such standards.

The discipline has already moved beyond symbolic gestures. A new architectural language take shaping; one that takes environmental, economic and social sustainability as a point of departure. Yet, if sustainability continues to be treated as branding, it will remain vulnerable to skepticism. If, however, it is articulated as an architectural structure, a more environmentally responsible ethic becomes central to the discipline’s relevance.

Architects are not short on sustainable ambition. But they must describe it with the same rigor they bring to design guided by sustainable principles. Until then, sustainability will continue to sound like a slogan when really it should read like an architectural revolution.

Architizer's diverse jury of global experts is currently reviewing submissions to the 14th A+Awards! Sign up to receive updates on Public Voting and spring winner announcements.

Top image: Wencheng Biology Expo Park by The Design Institute of Landscape. & Architecture China Academy of Art, Wenzhou, China

The post Sustainability Has a Branding Problem — and Architects Are Partly to Blame appeared first on Journal.

Everyone has the same tools now. AI can write your project descriptions. It can draft your blog posts. It can generate social captions, email sequences, website copy and thought leadership articles before your morning coffee gets cold.

And so the temptation is obvious. If it used to take you four hours to write a single LinkedIn post, and now you can publish 30 in the same time, why wouldn’t you? Volume wins, right? Not exactly.

Volume isn’t inherently bad. If your firm has been posting once a month (or worse, once a quarter), then yes, more content is going to help. Going from near-invisible to consistently present makes a real difference. Nobody’s arguing that. But there’s a tipping point, and most firms blow right past it without noticing.

That tipping point is when volume starts replacing quality instead of amplifying it. When the bar for “good enough” drops because publishing is easier. When you stop asking “Does this sound like us?” and start asking “Is this enough to post?”

That shift is subtle. You won’t see it in any single post. But over weeks and months, you start losing the thing that made a potential client stop scrolling and think, “I want to work with these people.” Your voice. Your point of view. The personality behind the work. And once that’s gone, it’s really hard to get back.

AI Produces the Perfect Average

Black Ocean Firehouse by Rafael de Cárdenas / Architecture at Large, New York City, New York

Here’s what happens when you hand your marketing over to AI:

By design, AI generates the best possible average of everything it knows. The best average.

That means if you prompt it to write a project description, you get one that sounds like every other project description it’s ever been trained on. Polished, competent, and completely forgettable. If you’re using AI the same way everyone else is (same prompts, same workflows, same “write me a LinkedIn post about sustainable design”), then your content is going to converge with everyone else’s.

When 90% of firms are using AI the same way, the output looks, sounds and feels the same. You think you’re differentiating when you’re actually converging.

Architecture already struggles with differentiation. Most firm websites could swap logos, and you’d never know the difference. The “About” pages all read the same, and project descriptions check the same boxes. The same goes for social posts. And that was before AI entered the picture. Now take that existing sameness and add a tool that, by its very nature, pushes everything toward the center. You can see where this is heading…

When clients can’t tell firms apart, they default to the only differentiator left: price. That’s commoditization. That’s the race to the bottom that every architect says they want to avoid, but few are actively doing anything to prevent. And the irony is that the tool many firms are adopting to “improve” their marketing is the very thing making it harder to stand out.

AI isn’t causing this on its own, but it is accelerating it. And most firms don’t even realize it’s happening because the content looks good. It reads fine. It’s grammatically correct and professionally polished. But “professionally polished” and “distinctly yours” are two very different things.

Better Is Better

Black Ocean Firehouse by Rafael de Cárdenas / Architecture at Large, New York City, New York

So how do you use AI without losing yourself in the process? You flip the sequence.

Most firms are doing it backwards. They start with AI and hope the output is good enough. They let the tool define the voice, the tone, the message. Then they tweak a few words and hit publish. And they do this over and over, week after week, until one day they look at their website and their socials and their proposals and realize none of it sounds like them anymore. It all sounds like AI. Which means it all sounds like everyone.

The firms that will actually stand out are doing the opposite. They define what “better” looks like for themselves first, and then they make that version of better repeatable with AI. The distinction and order of events make a huge difference.

If you start with AI and work backwards, you end up at the mean. You end up in the middle of the pack. You end up sounding like every other firm that took the shortcut. But if you start with yourself (your actual voice, your actual perspective, the way you actually talk to clients when you’re at your best) and then use AI to scale that? Now you’ve got something worth scaling.

Before you ever open ChatGPT or Claude or whatever tool you’re using, you need to get clear on a few things. What does your firm actually sound like? What you sound like in a pitch, in a client meeting, in a conversation with a colleague you trust. What’s your point of view on architecture, on how buildings should serve people, on what makes a project worth doing? And where are the boundaries? Where does AI help, and where does it need to stop?

If AI can’t pull those answers from your prompt or its memory, it’s going to fill in the blanks with the average. And you won’t even notice it happening until it’s already happened.

Once those things are defined (really defined, not just vaguely understood), AI becomes an amplifier instead of a replacement. It takes your voice and makes it more consistent, more scalable, more efficient. But the voice is still yours. That’s the whole point; without that foundation, you’re just generating content.

You have to know who you are and what you believe before you AI or automate anything. Your experience. Your perspective. Your taste. Your conviction about what good architecture actually means. Those things have to come from you. They have to be defined by you. And they have to be protected by you, especially as the tools get more powerful and the temptation to hand over the keys gets stronger.

More content isn’t the answer; better content is. And better starts with you, not with a prompt.

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The global plastic crisis is accelerating. According to the OECD (2022), plastic production doubled from 234 million tonnes (Mt) in 2000 to 460 Mt in 2019. This massive increase in production led to a waste explosion: plastic waste rose from 156 Mt to 353 Mt in that same period.

A circular economy is still a long-term dream. Globally, only 9% of plastic waste is actually recycled. The rest is either burned (19%), sent to landfills (50%), or ends up polluting the environment (22%).

But what is happening in the building world? The numbers are even tougher. While we are good at recycling metal, construction plastics like PVC pipes and insulation have a recycling rate of only about 3%.  This is because buildings are usually demolished rather than deconstructed, making it nearly impossible to separate plastic from rubble.

As we all know, recycling is when we take a waste product, break it down and turn it into a raw material to make something new. This usually applies to metals like steel and aluminium. Steel is the gold standard of recycling because it can be melted down over and over without losing its strength. For plastics, recycling is harder. Every time you melt plastic, it gets a little weaker. European Court of Auditors (2020) notes that complex multi-layer materials used in modern buildings are almost impossible to separate, which is why the EU’s circularity rate is stuck at just 12.2%.

UPCYCLE CAFE (FERDOWSI CAFE) by AshariArchitects, Shiraz, Iran

Upcycling is a creative approach to tackling waste. It means taking an old item and using it for a new purpose that is more valuable or beautiful than the first. You aren’t breaking the material down into liquid; you are keeping its shape and character. A famous example is turning old shipping containers into trendy offices or cafes. Upcycling saves embodied carbon. As noted by the World Green Building Council (2021), the energy already used to make a material is wasted if we throw it away. Basically, upcycling keeps that energy locked in the building.

Downcycling is what happens to most construction waste. It’s when we recycle something, but the new product is of lower quality or weaker than the first. It “cycles down” the value chain. This is very common with concrete. When a building is knocked down, the concrete is crushed. However, you usually can’t use that crushed powder to make a new building; instead, it is used as rubble or fill under new roads. For example, the UK recovers about 91%–93% of construction waste, much of which is actually downcycling.

Building to Take Apart: The Lego Method

People’s Pavilion – 100% Borrowed by bureau SLA, Eindhoven, Netherlands

While the waste data sounds rough, there is actually a clever way architects are starting to fix this. Did you know there is a method called Design for Disassembly (DfD)? It’s a simple idea that changes everything. Right now, we usually glue and cement buildings together, which is why we have to smash them to pieces when they aren’t needed anymore. DfD treats a building more like a giant Lego set. Instead of using permanent glues, architects use things like bolts, screws, and straps. This means the building can be deconstructed, carefully taken apart, so every piece can be used again in a new project without being ruined.

A really cool example of this in action is the People’s Pavilion in Eindhoven. The architects, bureau SLA, did something almost unheard of: they “borrowed” the materials. They got wooden beams and concrete piles from local companies, but they had to give them back in perfect condition once the building was taken down. To do this, they couldn’t use a single nail or a drop of glue. Instead, they used steel tensioning straps (the same kind used to tie down heavy boxes on trucks) to literally tie the building together.

People’s Pavilion – 100% Borrowed by bureau SLA, Eindhoven, Netherlands

Then there is the issue of all that plastic waste we talked about. The People’s Pavilion found a way to handle that, too. The outside of the building was covered in 9,000 colorful shingles. If you look closely at them, you’ll see they are made from 100% recycled plastic waste, like old shampoo bottles and things that local neighbours collected. This is actually a perfect example of upcycling.

If anybody is interested, there is also a new tool called a Material Passport. It’s basically a digital ID card for every piece of a building. It tells future builders exactly what a plastic pipe is made of or how strong a wooden beam is. This stops materials from being downcycled into road filler because the next builder knows exactly how to reuse them. Projects like this prove that a building doesn’t have to be the end for a material; it can just be a temporary home before the material moves on to its next job.

Product-as-a-Service (PaaS): The Business of Upcycling

Lanna Rice Research Center, Chiang Mai University by Hanabitate Architects, Chiang Mai, Thailand

There is a new way of thinking where we don’t even have to own the parts of our buildings, a concept known as Product-as-a-Service (PaaS).

In a normal economy, a company sells you a lightbulb or a carpet, and then they don’t care what happens to it. But in a circular economy, you might just rent the light or the floor. The manufacturer keeps ownership, so they are suddenly very motivated to make sure that the product lasts a long time and is easy to fix. This shifts the focus from selling as much stuff as possible to keeping materials in use for as long as possible.

Actually, and surprisingly, this shift is creating a massive new market. Data from Grand View Research (2025) shows that the global circular construction market is already worth over $167 billion and is expected to more than double by 2033. Builders are realizing that throwing away materials is literally throwing away money. This is where Urban Mining and Agricultural Upcycling come in, the idea that our surroundings are mines full of valuable resources.

A beautiful example of this mindset is the Lanna Rice Research Center in Chiang Mai, designed by Hanabitate Architects. While earlier examples focused on mining old buildings, this center focuses on the rice production chain. The center was built specifically to help farmers develop upcycling processes for rice farming by-products, turning what was once agricultural waste into value-added products.

The building itself follows this circular logic. Inspired by the vernacular rice barn, it uses an open, barrier-free plan and durable materials like concrete blocks, polished floors, and bamboo blinds that require very low maintenance. By designing the center as a research hub, it acts as a material bank for knowledge and resources, where local farmers and international scholars exchange ideas on how to keep rice by-products out of the waste stream.

By using tools like material passports, the parts of a building (or even the by-products of a farm) are transformed from trash to tracked assets. Whether it is a recycled plastic tile or a structural bamboo element, these materials can be returned to the loop or sold to a new project. This turns architecture into a storage unit for valuable resources.

Upcycling the “Heavy” Stuff

Upcycle Studios by Lendager Group, Copenhagen, Denmark

A powerful way to close the circle on these concepts is to look at the “heavy” structural elements that usually end up as waste, which we actually have a problem with. Upcycle Studios in Copenhagen, designed by Lendager Group, shows that even the most difficult materials like concrete and glass can be saved from being downcycled.

The architects behind this project realized that the 62% of construction waste generated globally is a hidden gold mine. Instead of letting concrete from old buildings be crushed into road filler, they found a way to reuse it as a primary material for new permanent homes. They also recovered thousands of square meters of double-glazed windows from old buildings that were scheduled for demolition. These windows weren’t melted down or crushed; they were cleaned and fitted into new frames, keeping their high value and thermal properties intact.

Upcycle Studios by Lendager Group, Copenhagen, Denmark | Photo by Rasmus Hjortshøj

In a similar way, ADEPT designed The Braunstein Taphouse with a design for disassembly strategy that treats the building as a kit of parts. Because the building is located on a temporary harbor site, it was constructed using only mechanical joints. Every component — from the massive timber structure to the polycarbonate facade panels — can be unbolted and moved to a new location. By choosing durable, simple materials that are easy to take apart, ADEPT ensured that the taphouse would never become waste, even if the site changes.

Using these heavy materials this way addresses a major issue: embodied carbon. According to the World Green Building Council (2019), a huge amount of pollution is created just by manufacturing new concrete and glass. By upcycling these heavy elements, the Lendager Group was able to reduce the CO2 emissions of the construction process by a massive margin.

This approach proves that the circular economy isn’t just about small-scale experiments or temporary pavilions. It shows that by treating the 353 million tonnes of global waste as a resource, we can build permanent, high-quality housing that is actually part of the environment rather than a burden on it.

Beyond Synthetic

House LO by Atelier Lina Bellovičová, Czechia

While fixing the plastic crisis is a priority, many architects are now looking to move away from synthetic materials entirely. If we replace plastic insulation and PVC pipes with bio-based materials, we don’t just solve the waste problem; we start to heal the environment. Materials like hempcrete, cork and timber are naturally circular because they grow using solar energy and eventually return to the earth as nutrients rather than pollution.

The shift toward a plastic-free construction site relies on the same design for disassembly principles we’ve discussed. By using wood-to-wood joinery and natural fibers, we ensure that a building’s end-of-life isn’t a toxic event for a landfill, but a biological one. This approach turns the building into a carbon sink, locking away CO2 in its walls for decades.

By combining the material passports of the digital age with the natural wisdom of traditional building, the industry is finding a new balance. The goal is to reach a point where we aren’t just managing “trash” more efficiently, but building with materials that never become trash in the first place. This transition proves that the most advanced architecture of the future might actually be the one that leaves no trace behind, treating the planet as a partner rather than a source of raw, disposable ingredients.​

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Completed by hcma architecture + design in 2024 at a cost of around £100 million, the təməsew̓txʷ Aquatic & Community Center is the most expensive publicly funded building in the history of New Westminster. And it’s likely to stay that way for years to come. As we all know, when you’re dipping into the taxpayers’ purse, you need to get it right. Understandably, the project was realized through a lengthy consultation process, with the first public conversations beginning 10 years ago.

Opened in time to host the 1973 Canada Games, New Westminster’s original pool — on the same site as təməsew̓txʷ — was a beloved asset. As Ali Kenyan, partner at hcma, tells us, “the majority of this community of 70,000 people or so had swum or learned to swim there, or taught swimming there, so there was this real nostalgia.”

təməsew̓txʷ Aquatic & Community Center by hcma architecture + design, New Westminster, Canada | Photo by Nic Lehoux

A high-ceilinged, barn-style, timber-framed monolith, despite its treasured status, the facility was outdated, inaccessible for those with particular needs, and geared towards semi- and pro-style training, not general users. Worse still, its masterplan involved back-filling Glenbrook Ravine, a natural landmark with great symbolism for the local Qayqayt community and other First Nations.

“So we went out and asked the community: ‘Why are some people using this facility really well, and other folks not using it at all?’,” says Kenyan, explaining that many residents were willing to travel relatively large distances to use other pools. When asked if a more modern building would appeal more, 90% of those in the public engagement said it would.

təməsew̓txʷ Aquatic & Community Center by hcma architecture + design, New Westminster, Canada | Photo by Nic Lehoux

Designing by democracy is something hcma is well-known for. So much so, the practice continues to consult with clients on a regular basis, long after a project is completed and buildings start being used. What makes təməsew̓txʷ unique is how this process has been deployed to try and overcome rifts within the community, and reach people whose ancestors – the original inhabitants of these lands — were the victims of brutal genocide.

Previously on Architizer, we have explored how buildings can be turned into tools of violence, weaponized through damage, transformed from a sanctuary to a danger zone by external forces. But structures can also be objects of reconciliation, community healing and reparation.

təməsew̓txʷ Aquatic & Community Center by hcma architecture + design, New Westminster, Canada | Photo by Nic Lehoux

Founded in 1858, the City of Westminster was British Columbia’s capital and largest settlement until the 1910s, when nearby Vancouver surpassed it in population and political terms. With this in mind, it’s hard to think of a more fitting location for a public swimming pool and community center, which is highly functional and incredibly symbolic.

Suffice to say, like much of North America, the story of Canada makes for bloody and eye-opening reading. Specifically, the slaughter, forced removal, and compulsory reeducation of First Nations indigenous people at the hands of European colonialists.

And as a comparatively young country, this uncomfortable (and, historically, suppressed) truth has only recently been properly acknowledged. There’s a long way to go, but progress towards reconciliation is now being made, and a striking example can be found in what would normally be a relatively benign architectural project.

təməsew̓txʷ Aquatic & Community Center by hcma architecture + design, New Westminster, Canada | Photo by Nic Lehoux

“The brief from New Westminster’s council was very unique. Not the kind of thing we usually see at all. So they wanted the building to be high performing, but also something residents could feel proud of. The pride aspect is really unusual,” Kenyan tells us, emphasizing how this had to reflect contemporary Canada’s “truth and reconciliation” mission. The significance of New Westminster as the birthplace of the province’s colonial story, and the loss felt by indigenous people when the old pool was built and the ravine backfilled, also needed consideration.

“This was all really important to the city. When we first began working with them, their logo was a queen’s crown. Over the last 10 years, they’ve undergone a rebrand externally and an internal audit to kind of decolonize them, and focus on what it means to embrace a culture that was lost,” she continues, adding that almost all the area’s First Nations population was eradicated, and those that survived gradually lost connections to languages and practices over time.

təməsew̓txʷ Aquatic & Community Center by hcma architecture + design, New Westminster, Canada | Photo by Nic Lehoux

By 2018 hcma was undertaking engagement activities specifically aimed at the Qayqayt and other indigenous members of the community. This included a series of celebratory gatherings at sites around town, conversations with different urban indigenous groups, performances, and communal dining. The council then issued a call for new public art from indigenous practitioners, which would be the largest they had ever commissioned.

Proposals came from across Canada and as far as Brazil after a decision was made to invite submissions from anyone who identified as indigenous, regardless of location or their ability to prove heritage. An important gesture, given that many in these communities were forced to leave their birthplace and restart life elsewhere. Eventually, Squamish artist James Harry won the £500,000 prize fund to create a striking installation which stands outside the main entrance to təməsew̓txʷ.

təməsew̓txʷ Aquatic & Community Center by hcma architecture + design, New Westminster, Canada | Photo by Nic Lehoux | Miyiwts Sculpture by James Harry 

“We are very conscious that we’re not indigenous. I’m a colonial architect, so I’m not going to try and represent anything that is First Nations cultural,” says Kenyan. “If James Harry had proposed doing a wall installation or something, then indigenous heritage might have shown up in the architecture. But our approach was really about making sure the spaces were conducive to activities these communities wanted to host. And make sure there were outdoor and indoor spaces with real connections to the land.

“For example, we couldn’t excavate the ravine, but we have reinstated a major greenway there, which is now a public park and rain garden… You can follow the route all the way to the Fraser River, too, which is a real lifeblood for First Nations people in these territories. In the past, it’s where they would fish, how they navigated the region,” she continues, explaining the public realm with Harry’s artwork is now a focal point for blessings and other ceremonies.”

Many of New Westminster’s original aims have been realized — including benchmark-setting building performance with high energy efficiency and a game-changing air purification system, and a focus on appealing to young people in the area. But təməsew̓txʷ still reflects the difficult relationship between traditional indigenous cultures and modern societal systems, and leaves us with plenty to think about in terms of how we can approach similar scenarios.

təməsew̓txʷ Aquatic & Community Center by hcma architecture + design, New Westminster, Canada | Photo by Nic Lehoux | Miyiwts Sculpture by James Harry 

“If a smudging ceremony were to be hosted somewhere in the building, we have three major spaces that can be used for that, with the right air handling systems to extract that smoke and make it safe. You know, we have to comply with the code. So this is a big question — how do you allow some of these cultural activities to happen that conflict with building code?” says Kenyan. “All of it for us is about providing options. I mean, inclusion is about options and choice.

“On the interior of the building, the Community Living Room lobby space is incredibly adaptive,” she continues. “There’s no price to access it. So for all community members, this could be your workstation, where you bring your kids when your living room isn’t big enough, and you want them to run around. It’s a place where there’s a lot of food service happening, which was something we consistently heard – food is what brings us together.”

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The post Dive In: Designing a Public Pool Where Canada’s Colonial History Still Surfaces appeared first on Journal.

The judging process for Architizer's 14th A+Awards is now underway. Subscribe to our Awards Newsletter to receive updates about Public Voting, and stay tuned — winners will be announced later this spring.  

Landscape architecture has long occupied an ambiguous position within architectural culture. In its early European lineage, landscape design was closely aligned with aristocratic display. Far from being a shared civic system or public right, formal gardens such as Versailles used landscaping as an expression of power, a microcosm of political hierarchy and territorial control. Even as public parks emerged in the nineteenth century, they were often framed as relief from the city, not as structural components of it. Buildings and roads defined urban order; the landscape was treated as an amenity, often seen as an urban tool aimed at increasing real estate value.

That hierarchy reflected the priorities of its time. Industrial expansion and rapid urbanization placed emphasis on density and construction speed, while opening the door to speculation. Architecture appeared to shape the city’s identity, while landscape simply softened its edges or added a decorative flair. The ground was something to decorate or escape to, not something that organized urban life. Today, these assumptions are increasingly untenable.

Hudson River Park’s Gansevoort Peninsula by Field Operations, New York City, New York | Project of the Year & Jury Winner, Public Parks and Green Spaces, 13th Architizer A+Awards

Yet, as cities confront the dual-prong issues of climate volatility and intensifying patterns of urban growth, the performance of the ground itself has become central to how cities function. Heat mitigation, flood management, biodiversity and public health are now negotiated through landscape systems as much as through buildings. What was once considered embellishment has now become essential infrastructure.

And yet, architectural and societal discourse have been slow to adjust. In the broader culture, landscape architecture continues to be described in the language of activation and beautification, even as it quietly carries responsibilities that determine whether cities can endure. Meanwhile, in architectural practice, this type of expertise still sits somewhat uncomfortably and is seen as a relatively separate discipline.

Landscape as Urban System

Loures Riverfront by TOPIARIS Landscape Architecture, Loures, Portugal | Popular Choice Winner, Public Parks and Green Space, 14th Architizer A+Awards

Meanwhile, across contexts, landscape architecture now carries responsibilities that extend well beyond aesthetics. For example, projects such as New York City’s Hudson River Park’s Gansevoort Peninsula, by Field Operations, illustrate how coastal landscapes can operate simultaneously as public space and flood defense. Here, grading, planting and shoreline design absorb environmental risk while sustaining recreational use. The landscape is not applied to infrastructure — it functions as infrastructure, while still improving the quality of life for the city’s residents.

Similarly, TOPIARIS Landscape Architecture’s Loures Riverfront demonstrates how flood-prone territory can be reimagined as a resilient civic landscape. Restructuring access to a mosaic of natural ecosystems found along with highly urbanized zones (think mudflats, salt marshes, and native reed beds — all just minutes away from densely populated neighbourhoods), the project transforms environmental vulnerability into longterm spatial asset. A unique wooden walkway invites visitors to immerse themselves in the marsh in a variety of ways, raising public awareness of the importance of estuarine ecosystems and ocean management, while preserving a crucial and complex natural flood barrier.

These projects signal a broader shift: landscape architecture is increasingly responsible for the long-term performance of cities.

Planning From the Ground Up

Masterplan Begbroke Innovation District by OKRA, Oxford, United Kingdom | Popular Choice Winner, Unbuilt Master Plan, 13th Architizer A+Awards

The most consequential landscape work today does not exist as isolated parkland. It operates at the scale of districts and master plans, shaping growth patterns before buildings define them.

Planned for the Oxford University campus, the Masterplan Begbroke Innovation District by OKRA positions landscape as the organizing framework for development by coordinating circulation, ecological networks and public space — all of this before architectural objects are resolved. Put differently, this is a landscape-led masterplan, reversing the traditional sequence of urban design. Buildings respond to landscape logic, not the other way around.

A similar inversion occurs in MASS Design Group‘s The Rwanda Institute for Conservation Agriculture, where productive landscapes structure academic life and environmental stewardship simultaneously. Here, landscape is not an ornamental setting; it is pedagogical and ecological infrastructure.

In both cases, landscape architecture operates as planning intelligence — establishing durable frameworks that not only structure new ways of living but also are capable of accommodating change.

Public Life, Structured

Lignano 2.0 : Embracing Nature, Celebrating People by STUDIO VI [studio six], Lignano Sabbiadoro, Italy | | Jury Winner, Unbuilt Masterplan, 13th Architizer A+Awards 

Landscape architecture’s evolving role is equally visible in projects that reconcile heritage with both ecology and daily use. Take, for example, Lignano 2.0: Embracing Nature, Celebrating People by STUDIO VI [studio six], which reconsiders coastal urbanism through landscape-led strategies. The design goes beyond aesthetics, aiming to boost social interaction and community engagement by providing new community spaces and public sports areas while promoting environmental awareness and sustainable practices.

Likewise, Bedford Heritage Park by Lemay demonstrates how landscape can mediate between memory and movement without relying on monumentality. The monumental land reclamation project transforms an area one beridden by limestone extraction byproduct, transformed into a thriving regional greenspace. Crucial to the design is spatial sequencing, which supports public gathering while maintaining ecological continuity.

These projects succeed not through spectacle, but through sustained usability and environmental logic. What unites them is not stylistic cohesion, but structural clarity. Landscape is the driver of the design, organizing movement and supporting social exchange — roles traditionally attributed to architecture or engineering.

Advancing the Discipline

Alibaba Xixi Campus (Park C) by ASPECT Studios, Hangzhou, China | Jury Winner, Best Landscape Design Firm, 13th Architizer A+Awards

The evolution of landscape architecture is being advanced by practices that reject ornamental expectations in favor of systemic thinking.

Firms such as ASPECT Studios, which have offices across multiple countries, consistently position landscape as an operational framework at the metropolitan scale. This big-picture thinking is reflected in the scope of their team’s skills, which span from landscape architects and urban designers to wayfinding specialists, strategists, and graphic designers. Their work underscores that landscape architecture can carry authorship, complexity and long-term ambition equal to any building project.

Likewise, Change Studio approaches landscape as a mediator between climate systems and urban form, foregrounding adaptability rather than fixed outcomes. Landscape architecture has always been about shaping land systems — hydrology, ecology, public space, spatial sequence. What’s changing isn’t the discipline’s scope, but the urgency and scale at which those capacities are now required.

Recognition and Responsibility

The Rwanda Institute for Conservation Agriculture by MASS Design Group, Rwanda | Jury Winner, Architecture +Landscape & Jury Winner, Sustainable Landscape/Planning Project, 13th Architizer A+Awards

Recognition plays a quiet but influential role in shaping professional priorities. Awards programs, publications and institutional frameworks signal what counts as architectural excellence. When landscape architecture is treated as supplementary — or judged primarily on visual qualities — its infrastructural contributions risk being underappreciated.

Aligning recognition with the discipline’s expanded responsibilities is not a matter of disciplinary competition. It is a matter of urban capacity. As cities confront climate risk and spatial inequity, landscape architecture increasingly determines whether public environments can endure.

Celebrating landscape projects that uphold environmental intelligence, planning rigor and long-term adaptability reinforces the idea that resilience is designed — and that this type of thinking is something that should be valued.

Recalibrating Urban Priorities

Bedford Heritage Park by Lemay, Bedford, Canada | Popular Choice Winner, Sustainable/Landscape Project, 13th Architizer A+Awards

The historical marginalization of landscape architecture was shaped by different urban conditions. Buildings once appeared to define cities more clearly than ground systems did. That balance has shifted.

Today, the success of urban environments depends as much on how land absorbs water and mitigates heat as on how buildings perform. Landscape does not simply complement architecture. It sustains it. Repositioning landscape architecture within architectural discourse is not about correcting an oversight. It is about acknowledging where urban performance now resides.

As climate pressures intensify and cities continue to densify, the most consequential design decisions may not be those that rise above the skyline, but those that shape the ground beneath it.

The judging process for Architizer's 14th A+Awards is now underway. Subscribe to our Awards Newsletter to receive updates about Public Voting, and stay tuned — winners will be announced later this spring.  

Top image: Floating Cloud | Jade Carvings of Long for Chongqing by Change Studio, Chongqing, China | Jury Winner, Best Landscape Design Firm, 13th Architizer A+Awards 

The post Landscape Architecture Is Still Treated as Decoration — and Cities Are Paying the Price appeared first on Journal.

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There are two types of models in architectural practice: the presentation model, which shows the polished, finished design and the concept model that acts as an investigative device for architectural thought. The latter is where all the fun happens.

Concept models sit in the intersection of intuition and instruction, usually trying to physically translate an idea into a spatial gesture. And, although concept models have the freedom to be anything, there are certain practices that can distinguish a glorified lump of foam from a model that conceptually anchors the whole project.

1. Establish a Clear Spine: One Idea, Ruthlessly Protected

The Death and Life of Ultramafic Soil by Liu Yao | Finalist, Physical Model – Concept Model, 2025 Vision Awards

The Death and Life of Ultramafic Soil is a model that focuses on the nickel-mined territories of the Indonesian Morowali Industrial Park and critiques humanity’s extractive relationship with rare earth elements and its ecological devastation. The model is constructed upon a curated ground of soil, made from a series of laser-cut beams that support a punctured warehouse roof. In parallel, a mechanical crane becomes a dominant element in the overall composition, depositing soil and guided by a retractable blue canvas, a catwalk system and water collection channels, essentially choreographing an encounter between soil and industrial machinery. Lastly, it becomes a testing device for exploring how environmental conditions such as humidity, airflow, odor and color interact with the structure and embrace the aesthetics of rot, rust and regrowth as active agents of architecture.

Best practice: Build the model around one decisive relationship and let every component exist only to intensify it.

2. Material as Language, Not Decoration

Embodied Carbon by Masataka Yoshikawa – Lawrence Technological University | Jury Winner, Physical Model – Concept Model, 2025 Vision Awards

Embodied Carbon investigates the loss in data between the architect’s design intent – drawn through digital means – and its transfer to conventional construction documents. The model attempts to recapture the dimensionality of architectural thought by using potent material articulation. Using light metallic rods as a structure to support thicker, complicated geometry, the model concretizes this abstract idea and makes it legible through matter. It becomes a translational instrument that uses the properties of specific materials to extend – rather than merely represent – the process of design.

Best practice: Use material smartly by allowing its physical properties to inform the design further, rather than merely visualizing a form drawn digitally.

3. Be Comfortable With Productive Incompleteness

Poché, Revisited by Fergal Tse | Editor’s Choice Winner, Physical Model – Concept Model, 2025 Vision Awards

Poché, Revisited (i.e., poché, the solid, filled-in areas of a floor plan) is a model that examines the properties of the “thickened wall”. The model is made from Bristol paper and uses light to study the physicality of the form. It plays with solids and voids, apertures and circulation, thresholds and shadows. Its incomplete nature, or rather the focus on selective moments instead of an overall design resolution, makes it an analytical instrument. Specifically, the model lacks program, definitive form or material specificity, thus exaggerating spatial relationships that would otherwise be lost and flattened by completion.

Best practice: Create models that are deliberately unresolved – that way, omission becomes a strategy for insight and focus instead of a negative constraint.

4. Use Scale to Match the Question

Regal Dynasty Deluxe – The El Presidente Collection by Scott Specht | Finalist, Physical Model – Concept Model, 2025 Vision Awards

Regal Dynasty Deluxe – The El Presidente Collection is a model that explores the concept of palimpsest, i.e., something reused or altered through superimposition. It uses bits of debris such as shotgun shells, hair curlers, automobile nameplates, etc., as well as carefully curated lighting to explore questions of density and formal accumulation through excessive detailing. Crucially, the scale of the model is not tethered to any program or site and instead focuses on being intimate and object-centric to effectively explore atmosphere and intention. It is a miniature, hyper-detailed megastructure that explores texture and light, regardless of the project narrative.

Best practice: When thinking about concept models, scale should serve the question rather than the brief.

5. A Concept Model is Designed to Be Taken Apart

Data Democracy: The Memory Centre by Leo Wing Lok Lui | Finalist, Physical Model – Concept Model, 2025 Vision Awards

Concept models are not meant to be precious. In fact, sometimes they operate best when being dismantled. Data Democracy: The Memory Centre rethinks the concept of “storage” through deliberate disassembly. By physically taking apart hard disk drives, the project approaches storage not as abstract but as an actual, tangible structure. It uses physical relics as a means to explore hierarchy, sorting, separation and assembly to tackle a sociopolitical problem, where reliable knowledge is limited in this digital age. Consequently, the model becomes a pedagogical device, promoting an open redistribution of information and a museum for displaying digitized reserves of physical relics.

Best practice: Dismantling concept models will lead to more understanding and fewer false resolutions.

Ultimately, a concept model should be treated as a temporal condition. It captures a moment in time that the architect wishes to physically manifest an idea, not to conclude but to open up more avenues for investigation. Especially now that fast production is the dominant tendency, concept models are able to retrain architects to look for the dialogue, the disagreement and the imprecision in their process. These five practices not only resist the pressures of polished designs but also elevate modelmaking into a practice of reflection.

Featured Image: Embodied Carbon by Masataka Yoshikawa – Lawrence Technological University, 2025 Vision Awards, Jury Winner, Physical Model – Concept Model

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The post The Anatomy of a Powerful Concept Model appeared first on Journal.

The judging process for Architizer's 14th A+Awards is now underway. Subscribe to our Awards Newsletter to receive updates about Public Voting, and stay tuned — winners will be announced later this spring.  

Scandinavian design has always led the pack when it comes to embracing natural materials. More so, the region is synonymous with pioneering techniques, pushing the envelope in terms of what can be done and with what.

Of course, timber structures are found across the globe. It’s one of the most traditional options for building design, and fundamental to so many cultures and societies. Nevertheless, few can hope to match the scale of Wood City in Stockholm or the aptly titled high-rise Wood Hotel, further north in Sweden. We’ve also seen timber put to striking use for smaller, more intimate projects — not least within the context of event spaces.

The Greenhouse Theatre in London is a prime example, a temporary zero-waste stage and space that was located in the heart of the UK capital, predominantly made from reclaimed pallets and plank framing. Meanwhile, thousands of miles south, the waterborne housing solution Kunlé Adeyemi designed for vulnerable communities in Lagos, Nigeria, is also being used for a floating music studio and venue in the Cape Verde Islands.

Kide by Aalto University Wood Program, Kuhmo, Finland | Popular Choice Winner, Pavilions, 13th Architizer A+Awards  

There is undoubtedly an inherent emotional connection between people and wood, and this goes some way towards appreciating why performances seem to hit differently when surrounded by this material. But there are also practical reasons why we are seeing a number of spectacular arts and culture spaces that are built from, or predominantly use, timber. Highly flexible and versatile, it opens up numerous possibilities to genuinely do things differently.

Kide, by the Aalto University Wood Program, is a case in point, which takes us back to the Nordic school. An outdoor event space in the Finnish city of Kuhmo, erected for the 30th anniversary of the Wood Program, the concept pays homage to the town’s history as an epicenter of timber production and the surrounding forests that provide the necessary resources to sustain that industry.

Laminated veneer lumber, glulam and local pine all feature in a design that sets a simple canopy on top of two corners, then uses eight interwoven, mechanically connected trusses to create an eye-catching square geometry and introduce depth and volume. Breathing new life into a very familiar town square, the open plan layout and options for various uses only add to the sense that this is very much a place built for people, rather than an imposition forced on the location.

Rendering of inside the PNE Amphitheatre by Revery Architecture, Vancouver, Canada | Popular Choice Winner, Unbuilt Cultural, 13th Architizer A+Awards  

On a much larger scale, Vancouver is currently working on the PNE Amphitheatre, which is due to be completed later this year. Pegged by Revery Architecture as a “world-class outdoor venue for up to 10,000 spectators,” again, the focus is very much on mixed-use, broad programming. Unarguably beautiful, the blueprint becomes all the more impressive when the surrounding topology is taken into account. The 345-foot (105-meter) mass timber roof follows the lines of Windermere Hill and will offer audiences a wonderful perspective of the distant North Short Mountains.

Part of a wider Festival Plaza development, which also includes an urban park, public artworks and event infrastructure, masterplanners are introducing a small creek which will accentuate the natural feel of the structures and backdrop. The impact should be subtle, but more than likely will make it hard to imagine any other type of structure — certainly harder materials, like concrete or steel — standing in the same place and not looking decidedly out of place.

PNE Amphitheatre by Revery Architecture, Vancouver, Canada | Popular Choice Winner, Unbuilt Cultural, 13th Architizer A+Awards  

In China’s Zhejiang province, the Sky Concert Hall takes the idea of an event space, which is both physically and symbolically. Developed by Yike Architects, taking inspiration from boat design, it stands 4,690 feet (1,430 meters) above sea level in the Liuchin Lake Scenic area, at the end of a rhododendron-lined hiking trail.

Large cantilevers limit contact with the land and allow for varying degrees of stress from wind and snow, with the main observation deck built in southern pine anticorrosive glulam alongside strength grade TCT32, and involved limited excavation work. Designed to fit into its setting, the result is a remarkable place to convene with nature and hold small gatherings — the structure is jaw-dropping, but the landscape is the star of any resident show.

So far, all these examples have involved external architects delivering timber concepts for informal or ticketed cultural activities for which they may not have a role. In contrast, Belgium’s Horst is a “DIY-spirited platform for arts, club culture, and collective creation” which, in addition to an annual festival, also involves an atelier element featuring resident and collaborating architects.

Sky Concert Hall by Yikes Architects, Zhejiang, China | Jury Winner, Architecture +Wood, 13th Architizer A+Awards 

Amongst other things, this process produces new venue spaces for the annual event, held on a former military base, many of which remain in situ afterwards, slowly adding to a playground for structural design. Others will be dismantled, reconfigured, improved upon and replaced with an emphasis on minimizing waste and environmental footprint.

Some practitioners, such as Leopold Banchini, have now worked on multiple editions and have been responsible for some of the most groundbreaking schemes. For example, Dark Skies, for which he collaborated with Giona Bierens de Haan. A joint initiative with DJ and producer DVS1, the pavilion’s angular frame is made from black impregnated wood, with each section capable of holding reclaimed ceiling panels and high-powered audio speakers – ensuring no audience member is more than a few meters from a source of sound.

Others, like Carole Depoorter, are full-time Horst members and trained architects. “In Dark Skies, the structure is formed from quite small timber sections to create this very complex truss… in the atelier, it’s very important that what we build involves critical thinking about materials because we are also working with non-professional and inexperienced people at the construction stage… Wood is just so nice to work with, easy to assemble, and as we are very focused on reuse, wood is perfect for this.”

The judging process for Architizer's 14th A+Awards is now underway. Subscribe to our Awards Newsletter to receive updates about Public Voting, and stay tuned — winners will be announced later this spring.  

The post Structural Acoustics: Timber Systems Shaping Open-Air Venues appeared first on Journal.