On the morning of September 11, 2001, two hijacked commercial jetliners struck the Twin Towers in Lower Manhattan, a third plane struck the Pentagon, and a fourth crashed in rural Pennsylvania. A total of 2.977 people were killed in the terrorist attacks. In the face of this unprecedented loss, the city of New York promised to rebuild Lower Manhattan as a lively neighborhood while honoring and maintaining the memory of this day. Thus began one of the largest reconstruction projects in New York City, a process that is still ongoing now, 23 years after the tragedy.
How have architecture and building design adapted to unforeseen future uses? As cities evolve, their needs for buildings inevitably change. Buildings may transition between cultural, commercial, industrial, and office functions depending on a city's identity and economic activity. In a world that is becoming increasingly dynamic and fast-paced, it's essential to consider the challenges static structures face when required to meet new demands. Cities have repurposed these static structures in ways not anticipated during their original design, with many successes in repurposing industrial buildings. Unlike structures designed with flexibility in mind, most manufacturing facilities were not initially intended for multiple uses. Yet, how have cities, communities, and occupants used these spaces, and what are the challenges of transforming a building’s existing uses?
The continuation of remote work practices has altered cities' bustling downtown areas along with the traditional office landscape, leaving behind many vacant spaces whose future purpose is a matter of speculation. Four years after the onset of hybrid working policies, office occupancy rates in urban centers remain lower than pre-pandemic levels, signaling a long-term shift in the work environment. Some developers have aimed to reposition these buildings while other are seeking alternative uses of vacant buildings in central location. While both approaches prove beneficial in their own ways, the potential for repurposing office buildings is vast and exciting. From residential living to cutting-edge research facilities, architects and developers explore diverse possibilities and challenges of transforming these underutilized structures into thriving new spaces.
The office building typology emerged from the need to unite thousands of people within a relatively strict working environment. In major cities, these structures clustered into Central Business Districts (CBDs), which became dedicated neighborhoods accommodating commerce and businesses. However, the COVID-19 pandemic disrupted this model, leading to the rise of remote and hybrid work. Now, nearly four years later, occupancy rates in these urban centers remain lower than pre-pandemic levels, signaling a long-term shift in the work environment. To address this challenge, developers have been increasingly looking into “repositioning” their projects, seeking to redefine their image by adapting them to contemporary demands. This typology considers the surrounding urban fabric, aiming to expand the building’s use beyond its original purpose and attract people back to the CBDs.
New York City’s skyline tells the tale of the region’s dated relationship with architectural innovation and style. Among the many materials that cloak the city’s built environment, terracotta has a distinct significance. The clay-based material was a prominent feature in buildings from the late 1800s to the 1920s and, after a brief pause, is experiencing a resurgence with contemporary design. The revival pays homage to The Big Apple’s architectural heritage while leading a movement for sustainable materials in the city.
A holistic approach to design and architecture becomes apparent when we delve into the work of NO ARCHITECTURE, an architectural practice based in New York, founded by Andrew Heid in 2014. The firm's portfolio and research showcase an integrative way of building, with projects demonstrating a close connection between the built environment and their immediate surroundings, whether in natural landscapes or urban contexts. Their programs emphasize flexibility, possibilities, and inclusion, prioritizing human well-being above all.
The U.S. has a long tradition of republicanism and laissez-faire capitalism that has not favored strong federal housing policy or intervention in the housing market. Policymakers have believed that private enterprise could best provide sufficient housing and that, as with healthcare and education,[1] government involvement would bring in “socialism” and undesirable control of the free market. There are two major exceptions to this tradition: the 1937 National Housing Act, a result of the devastation of the Great Depression, and the “war on poverty,” initiated by the Johnson administration in the mid-1960s.[2] Successful as these programs were, subsequent federal housing policy has mostly been aimed at undermining them, through either malice or neglect. Instead, federal policy has mainly sought to promote home ownership, the American dream, but that approach was eviscerated by the collapse of financing due to the subprime loan crisis and its aftermath. The result is that there is currently virtually no cogent federal housing policy. Thirty-five million Americans live in substandard housing; a much larger number devote 50% of their income to a roof over their heads. Housing construction is at a historic low, and construction costs have risen so high that they are well beyond the means of the average citizen.
On April 10, 2024, the New York Landmarks Conservancy bestowed the Preservation Leadership Award to author and urbanist Roberta Brandes Gratz. A longtime preservation activist, Gratz served on the City’s Landmarks Preservation Commission. She also led the successful effort to restore the Eldridge Street Synagogue, now the Museum at Eldridge Street. The following is a slightly edited version of the speech Gratz delivered at the 34th annual Lucy C. Moses Preservation Awards.
New York-based architecture office ODA has unveiled its design for Lorimer House and Copper Lofts, a development comprised of two residential buildings located in East Williamsburg in New York City. The design takes advantage of the triangular shape of the plot, employing rounded corners throughout the building to soften its image and create contextual references to its urban surroundings. Containing a total of 336 residential units, in addition to various amenities, the construction is slated for completion in 2024.
Airbnb has undoubtedly disrupted the hospitality industry, inspiring an ecosystem of companies leveraging the sharing economy such as co-living startups. While these companies have achieved impressive financial success, they have been purported to produce problematic effects at the scale of the city. Airbnb, in particular, is alleged to have driven an increase in rental prices in cities already grappling with housing affordability challenges. Much like the case of Uber's impact on urban mobility, Airbnb's rapid growth has caused significant challenges for local governments, demanding comprehensive regulation and a re-evaluation of its functioning at the city scale.
PIF Tower, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia Photo: Bader Otaby. Image Courtesy: The International High-Rise Award 2022/23
The future Saudi tower designed by Foster + Partners is expected to reach a staggering height of two kilometers. This multibillion-dollar project, towering twice as high as the current record holder, the Burj Khalifa in Dubai, will dominate the skyline of Riyadh, accommodating offices, residences, and entertainment spaces. It forms part of a development program led by Saudi Arabia, driven by the vision of Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman to establish the country's presence through ambitious, large-scale projects. While these super-tall towers symbolize visibility and global recognition, they face criticism for their extravagant construction costs and environmental impact.
If you follow housing policy in America, you may have noticed a particular term cropping up a lot recently: social housing. Maybe you’ve read a longform academic article, live in a city that is codifying a social-housing policy like Seattle or Atlanta, or seen one of the recent mentions in The New York Times, highlighting U.S. and Viennese success stories. On the design front, Dezeen is running a social-housing revival series.
Even within the world of design media, it was easy to miss the news: In late January, Notre Dame’s School of Architecture announced that Peter Pennoyer, a New York–based architect and author, had won the 2024 Richard H. Driehaus Prize. The Driehaus is architecture’s traditional/classical design version of the Pritzker Prize. Although it comes with a hefty $200,000 check—twice the size of the Pritzker’s honorarium—and previous winners include such luminaries as Robert A.M. Stern, Michael Graves, Leon Kier, and Andrés Duany and Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk, the award still exists in a sort of media vacuum.
Four years after the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, its effects are still felt in the construction and real estate sectors in the United States. Accelerated remote work and hybrid schedules are leading to a sharp decline in demand for traditional office space in cities across America. In major metros like New York and San Francisco, occupancy rates have dropped, property values have diminished and rents have fallen significantly. As architects design for the future of work, the real estate market faces divided perspectives on whether to invest in the country's growing inventory of vacant office buildings.
For decades, cities around the world have been promoting their nightlife scene and the designed spaces in which these activities occur. Occasionally hidden away from the hustle and bustle, offering a sort of escapism from the day-to-day-routine behind red velvet ropes and intense security measures, or sometimes proudly on display for people from all walks of life to congregate and spend the evening under the glisten of a disco ball or flashing lights, nightclubs are an example of how fashion, culture, and societal norms influence an often overlooked and underground side of architecture.
Urban mobility in the United States has seen a radical transformation with the introduction of ridesharing services in the late 2000s. The widespread adoption of services such as Uber and Lyft has altered the way citizens move around cities, offering convenience, flexibility, and accessibility like never before. The innovative business model that excels at designing for individual users failed to foresee larger implications at the scale of the city - congestion, public transit systems, and car ownership. While European countries such as Brussels have pledged to encourage public transportation to curb traffic congestion issues, American cities hunt for solutions of their own.
Located along Manhattan’s East River waterfront, the Freedom Plaza sets out to create a new civic and cultural hub, introducing a new open and green space in the crowded area, with plans to add an in-park Museum of Freedom and Democracy. Additionally, the scheme designed by BIG-Bjarke Ingels Group includes affordable housing units, two hotels, retail, and restaurants. Developed by Soloviev Group and Mohegan, the Freedom Plaza development reimagines one of the largest undeveloped plots in Manhattan, measuring 6.7 acres located south of the United Nations headquarters in the Midtown East neighborhood.
New York Governor Hochul has announced a partnership with the nonprofit Friends of + POOL to open the first urban river-sourced swimming facility in the United States. Utilizing + POOL’s design and technology, the 2,000-square-foot plus-shaped swimming pool is set to open in New York City’s East River in the summer of 2024. In 2010, four young designers, Archie Lee Coates IV, Dong-Ping Wong, Jeffrey Franklin, and Oana Stanescu, established + POOL with the goal of providing New Yorkers with access to free and safe river swimming. Now the state promised to invest $16 million to pilot and scale the system, hoping to expand it across the state of New York.
