The 8th edition of the Tallinn Architecture Biennale 2026 (TAB 2026) has announced the winners of its Installation Programme Competition and Vision Competition, both developed within the curatorial framework titled "How Much?". Organized by the Estonian Centre for Architecture, the biennale will take place from September 9 to November 30, 2026, with its Opening Week scheduled from September 9 to 13. Curated by Stuudio TÄNA, Mark Aleksander Fischer, and Mira Samonig, TAB 2026 explores the role of money, affordability, and resource allocation in shaping architecture and the built environment, while examining how contemporary practice negotiates economic constraints and cultural value.
In 2026, Apple marked fifty years since its founding. Over the past two decades, Apple has developed a consistent architectural language that extends its brand into the built environment, transforming stores, workplaces, and public-facing spaces into active components of its identity. These environments guide movement, frame interaction, and condition the ways in which users encounter both products and the company itself.
From the handheld device to the urban interior, Apple has sought to maintain a high degree of control over form, material, and experience. Architecture becomes part of this system when the company begins to define how it is perceived and engaged with in physical space. Research on retail environments has shown how spatial layout, visibility, and circulation patterns can shape behavior and interaction, turning architecture into an interface between brand and user.
Modernism in architecture was perhaps the first truly global building design philosophy. Established at the beginning of the twentieth century, its early proponents were heavyweights from Europe, such as Le Corbusier, Walter Gropius, and Mies van der Rohe. In 1923, Le Corbusier published his seminal written work, usually translated into English as Towards a New Architecture. Newness, and a rejection of history, was one of the central tenets of modernism. This manifested itself in the use of new materials such as steel and concrete, which gave rise to an unprecedented freedom of formal expression.
By the middle of the twentieth century, Modernism was adopted across the world by countries recovering from the Second World War and overcoming the legacy of colonialism. It became the language of reconstruction and of nation-building, reinforced by its rejection of the past. Its emphasis on technology suited this brave new world of industry, large-scale development, and new building types. Fast-forwarding to a century after its birth, Modernism itself has become the legacy. As buildings progressively become obsolete or reach the end of their design lives, there is an appreciation of the heritage value of these structures, both as designed items and as symbols of the spirit of the age in which they were built. Here, we look at five Modernist buildings from five regions going through adaptive reuse proposals. Where form once followed function, here, the function must follow the form.
Some cities grow through continuity, others construct themselves through moments of acceleration. Baku, in Azerbaijan, seems to operate somewhere in between. Its historic core, the Icherisheher, still holds a spatial logic that resists expansion: dense, enclosed, defined by proximity and repetition. But just beyond its walls, the city begins to shift. Scale increases, distances expand, and the relationship between buildings becomes less about continuity and more about visibility.
Over the past two decades, Baku has been the site of a deliberate effort to construct an image of itself. Oil wealth provided the means, but architecture became one of its primary tools. Projects such as the Heydar Aliyev Center by Zaha Hadid Architects or the Flame Towers are symbols of this transformation, their forms designed to circulate as much through media as through the city itself. They are precise, controlled, and highly resolved objects. But they also introduce a different urban logic, one that privileges singularity over continuity and positions architecture as an agent of representation.
Blur Building, Lake Neuchatel, Yverdon-les-Bains, Switzerland, 2002. Image Courtesy of Diller Scofidio + Renfro
Architecture is traditionally chronicled through the persistence of the solid. We define the discipline by the weight of the lintel, the mass of the pier, and the resistance of the wall. Even when lightness is invoked, it is usually understood as a subtractive act, the thinning of a section or the precarious reduction of a load. Yet there is a parallel history, less visible and harder to isolate, in which the primary material of construction is not what occupies space, but what moves through it.
To treat air as a medium is to move past the binary of the envelope. The boundary between the interior and the world ceases to be a line of absolute separation and becomes, instead, a site of filtration and pressure. We begin to see the building as a thermal valve, a series of gradients where moisture, velocity, and heat are not merely background "conditions" to be mitigated by mechanical systems, but are the very substances being shaped.
Barcelona House - Strom Architects - Sliding - Helena Lee Photography
Throughout much of history, weight has been closely associated with the very idea of architecture. Vitruvius, whose notion of firmitas linked construction to stability and permanence, understood solidity as one of its fundamental qualities, and building largely meant resisting the effects of time, gravity, and natural forces. In Greek and Roman architecture, monumentality depended on the available construction systems and materials, such as stone and solid masonry, whose expression was defined by mass, thickness, and structural repetition. Columns, walls, and podiums, beyond supporting buildings, asserted their presence in the territory, communicating order, durability, and power. Architecture met the ground with weight.
Ecuador's territory embraces a remarkable diversity of landscapes, ranging from the Pacific Coast to the peaks of the Andes, the vast expanse of the Amazon rainforest, and the volcanic Galápagos Islands. Each region of the country presents its own distinctive characteristics, reflected in its varied environmental, cultural, and social contexts. While Latin American architecture is rooted in rich ancestral traditions, native construction techniques, and local materials, contemporary Ecuadorian architecture expresses an evolving identity that blends these elements with actual demands. Tradition and innovation, local resources and modern techniques, along with social responsibility and aesthetics, interact with the natural environment, urban conditions, and social contexts.
Photographer Paul Clemence documented the International Gateway Centre (IGC) in West Kowloon, a mixed-use development by Zaha Hadid Architects in Hong Kong, as it approaches completion. The photo series captures the project at a stage where its overall massing, facade systems, and spatial organization are largely realized, while final works continue across public and interior areas. Clemence's close-range views highlight the vertical shading pleats, the curvature of the glazed envelope, and the transitions between structural and environmental elements, underscoring how the building's formal language is resolved through construction.
London's National Gallery has announced Kengo Kuma & Associates, in collaboration with BDP and MICA, as the winners of the international competition to design a new wing for the institution. Launched in September 2025, the competition attracted 65 submissions from international practices, from which six teams were shortlisted to develop proposals. The selection marks a key milestone in the institution's long-term development strategy, Project Domani, positioning the new addition as a central component in the reconfiguration of its architectural and curatorial framework. Conceived as the most significant transformation of the museum since its establishment in 1824, the project aims to expand both spatial capacity and curatorial scope, enabling the presentation of a continuous narrative of Western painting within a single setting.
In recent years, Albania has undergone a rapid and visible transformation, emerging as one of the most active urban environments in Southeast Europe. This growth is not only reflected in the expansion of its built fabric but also in the scale and ambition of new architectural interventions that seek to redefine the country's image. Across its territory, a series of large developments, cultural institutions, and infrastructural projects are being introduced as part of a broader effort to reposition Albania and its capital, Tirana, within regional and international networks.
A significant number of these interventions are being designed by internationally recognized architectural offices, whose presence has become a defining characteristic of the city's current phase of development. Rather than relying primarily on incremental or locally embedded processes, Tirana's transformation is increasingly shaped through externally authored visions that introduce new formal languages, typologies, and urban strategies. These projects often operate as singular objects or large-scale fragments, contributing to a landscape where the city is assembled through distinct and highly visible gestures.
Japanese architectKengo Kuma and his studio Kengo Kuma & Associates (KKAA) have unveiled Earth | Tree, a site-specific installation at Copenhagen Contemporary, developed in collaboration with Danish wood manufacturer Dinesen. Opened on March 28, 2026, as part of the institution's CCreate programme, the project occupies a former industrial hall, introducing a spatial intervention defined by timber, brick, and light. Led by partner Yuki Ikeguchi, with team members Asger T. Taarnberg, Nicolas Guichard, and Yasemin Shiner, the installation marks KKAA's first exhibition in Scandinavia and situates the studio's material-oriented practice within an exhibition format.
In our current cities, urban density and rising land values often force a choice between large-scale civic buildings and open public space. Traditionally, plazas have been treated as areas surrounding a building's footprint, but this strategy was modified when pilotis were introduced by the early 20th-century modernist movement. While the original intent was to create a sense of lightness that would allow circulation and light to flow beneath a structure, contemporary requirements for seismic loads, fire egress, and heavy occupancies render thin columns insufficient for the needs of current large-scale civic projects.
However, the pursuit of architectural lightness is not a strictly contemporary phenomenon. Following the modernist introduction of pilotis, several mid-century projects began experimenting with the illusion of suspension to achieve civic transparency. In 1953, the National Congress of Honduras in Tegucigalpa, designed by Mario Valenzuela, applied these principles to a legislative setting. The building consists of a solid assembly chamber elevated on a series of slender columns. Because the site sits on a terrace at the end of a sloping street, the resulting void does more than just provide circulation; it frames views of the city, creating the impression that the heavy legislative mass is lightly suspended above the urban fabric.
Beneath the ground lies a material that has quietly shaped the architecture of the modern world. Petroleum is rarely discussed within architectural discourse, yet the extraction, circulation, and consumption of oil have profoundly reorganized the spatial logic of territories. Pipelines, refineries, drilling platforms, ports, highways, and petrochemical complexes form a vast infrastructural landscape that sustains contemporary life, composing a dispersed architecture of energy.
Throughout the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, oil became the material foundation of industrial society. It fueled transportation, powered factories, and supported the growth of cities whose spatial organisation depended on continuous energy flows. Yet the infrastructures that enable these flows rarely become objects of architectural inquiry. Attention remains largely directed toward form, typology, or urban density, while the material systems that sustain these environments tend to remain displaced within the discipline.
Architecture has traditionally been described as a discipline concerned with space, form, and material presence. Yet this understanding becomes increasingly limited when confronted with the conditions that shape contemporary construction. Buildings no longer emerge from a stable relationship between site, program, and material. Instead, they are produced within a dense web of technological systems that operate across territorial, ecological, and temporal scales. Energy networks, data infrastructures, extraction processes, and global logistics shape architecture as decisively as climate or urban context.
Seen from this angle, architecture is less a discrete object than a moment within a larger technical field. Supply chains, data systems, automated maintenance, and energy grids do not sit "behind" the built environment. In a certain way, they influence what can be built, what is affordable, how buildings perform over time, and what kinds of waste they produce. When architecture is assessed primarily through form, it risks overlooking the systems that condition its production and afterlife.
World Trade Center Biotic, Brasília. Image Courtesy of Architects Office
Located within the Parque Tecnológico de Brasília, the World Trade Center Biotic is a mixed-use development designed by Brazilian studio Architects Office as part of the district's broader urban expansion. The project is part of the master plan developed in 2020 by Carlo Ratti Associati and is currently being developed. Conceived as a multi-program complex, the proposal brings together offices, residential units, a hotel, retail spaces, and shared facilities within a single urban framework. The project occupies a site of approximately 70,000 square meters and is planned to reach about 180,000 square meters of built area, with an estimated 150,000 square meters expected to be completed by 2030.
Smiljan Radić Clarke, the 2026 Pritzker Prize winner, is a contemporary Chilean architect known for his experimental approach to design, with a practice that balances the elemental with the intimate, the monumental with the fragile. Over the course of more than three decades, Radić has developed an architecture that resists repetition and conventional stylistic categorization, favoring instead deeply site-specific, materially attuned, and culturally reflective interventions.
His work negotiates between permanence and impermanence, memory and imagination, creating buildings that are as much about human experience and emotion as they are about structure and form. Across residences, cultural institutions, and temporary installations, Radić's architecture foregrounds the interplay between context, materials, and the subtle gestures that shape how spaces are inhabited and perceived.
As the architecture community looks ahead to the announcement of the 2026 laureate of the Pritzker Architecture Prize, anticipation once again gathers around what is widely regarded as the profession's highest honor. Founded in 1979 by Jay Pritzker and administered by the Hyatt Foundation, the prize recognizes a living architect whose body of work demonstrates a consistent and significant contribution to humanity and the built environment.
