The question is not whether architecture should be radical or conservative, but whether it is honest with the world it serves. Buildings shape our energy use, our health, and our sense of belonging. Today, the construction industry accounts for approximately one-third of global final energy consumption. Therefore, every decision regarding form, facade, and layout either reduces emissions or traps waste for decades. The change we need is practical and humane: first, reduce demand; design for local climate and culture; then add technologies that truly help. Policies like New York City’s Local Law 97 and the UK’s Approved Document O signal the end of an era of providing comfort through thoughtless building envelopes and gadgets.
The craft that needs to be revived is not a style, but a way of thinking. It brings together climate-sensitive planning, careful acoustics, non-glare daylight, and materials that are pleasant to touch and be around. Research continues to show that environments enriched with nature and warm materials reduce stress and promote well-being. This means that the concept of “productivity” should coexist with “human experience” rather than replace it. When we combine passive strategies with the right technologies, we achieve buildings that are cooler in summer, quieter in the workplace, and more grid-friendly.
This is not nostalgia. Architects around the world are relearning old lessons and blending them with new tools. In tropical and subtropical applications, temperature is controlled through shading, cross-ventilation, mass, and vegetation, while in cities, safe glass patterns for birds are used to prevent collisions without blocking daylight. The common thread in these examples is simple: build in harmony with the climate, not against it; reduce energy demand while protecting human and non-human life.
Techniques We Must Leave Behind: A Critical Assessment
We must abandon habits that look good on the surface but fail in terms of sustainability. The test is very simple. If a technique causes mechanical systems to work harder, ignores local weather conditions, impairs people’s ability to focus or rest, or causes ecological damage, that technique should be left in the past. Energy codes and overheating regulations now explicitly state this, but the deeper reason is ethical in nature. Buildings are permanent; so are their flaws.
Alternative is not just a single aesthetic; it is a performance mindset based on people and space. Evaluate the building’s exterior before assessing the equipment. Don’t add acoustics later; include them in the plan. Choose windows for views, daylight, and comfort, not for a cinematic look. Consider local traditions such as awnings, courtyards, shutters, and thick walls in the initial draft. These are not elements that restrict creativity. They are the conditions that enable creative buildings to function effectively in the real world.
Overreliance on Glass Facades and Energy Waste
The entirely glass-made tower promised transparency and daylight, but it led to heat loss in winter, excessive overheating in summer, glare on desks, and large HVAC systems working to correct all of these issues. Research clearly shows that glass area, U-value, and solar heat gain control are the key elements of energy savings in glass-made buildings. The more uncontrolled sunlight enters, the more energy you consume for cooling and the more heat loss occurs on cold days. While good daylight is valuable, it is no longer an excuse for entirely glass walls.
Regulations are not lagging behind in this regard. New York City’s LL97 regulation limits operational emissions, pushing building owners toward tighter insulation, opaque spandrels, and mixed-façade strategies with louvers, as well as the use of smart glass only where necessary. When dynamic glass is part of a balanced installation, it can help reduce peak loads and glare while preserving views and light, but it is a tool, not a cure-all. When combined with external shading and reasonable window-to-wall ratios, the result is comfort with a smaller footprint and lower bills.
Extreme Minimalism and Loss of Warmth
Minimalism can calm a space, but it risks becoming emotionally bland when it eliminates texture, naturalness, and the warmth of materials. People rest better in places that feel alive: wood that softens sound and touch, daylight modulated by depth and shadows, and small natural elements that convey a sense of security rather than sterility. Controlled studies have established a link between biophilic elements and natural materials and a reduction in stress responses. This demonstrates that the word “clean” should not be synonymous with “cold.”
Bringing back warmth does not mean clutter. It means intentional contrast: smooth surfaces alongside rough ones, soft surfaces alongside hard ones, warm wooden railings alongside cool colors. In homes, schools, and clinics, these choices are often less expensive than a glass wall and provide more benefits to the body. When spaces feel supportive, people stay longer, heal faster, and require less mechanical support to feel comfortable.
Iconic Architecture: Beyond Functionality to Fetishism
Chasing the next “instant icon” can distract teams from usage, cost, and time. Data on megaprojects is sobering: program delays and budget overruns are common, and risks can turn a showpiece into a cautionary tale. When image takes precedence over function, communities inherit debt and complexity, while users grapple with odd plans and high operating costs.
A better model starts with the results. Define what success means for the people inside and around the building (clear circulation, good sound and light, durable surfaces, low bills) and let the form emerge from these priorities. Most beloved buildings first gained attention for their functionality before becoming iconic; their silhouettes were a byproduct of the design, not its primary purpose.
The Acoustically Unconsidered Open-Plan Craze
Open-plan offices promised collaboration, but evidence suggests the opposite may be true. When everyone can see and hear everyone else, people retreat into their headphones and messages to try to focus. A well-known study tracking interactions before and after offices “opened up” found that face-to-face communication decreased while digital communication increased. This is a sign that constant exposure does not equate to connection.
Risks are higher in learning environments. Studies of open-plan classrooms reveal high noise levels and poor speech intelligibility. This situation leads to distraction and puts children who already struggle to hear in noisy environments at a disadvantage. The solution is not to abandon openness entirely, but to create a plan for sound: edges, quiet rooms, ceiling absorbers, and arrangements that separate loud sounds from delicate ones. Just as you did when designing the lighting, collaborate on a design that offers control and choice.
A One-Size-Fits-All Global Style That Ignores Local Climate
Copying and pasting a generic look based on climate has filled hot cities with airtight windows and imported comfort standards requiring 24-hour cooling. In places like India, moving away from local shade structures, courtyards, and breathable facade cladding has led to heat waves being felt more intensely indoors and the collapse of the electrical grid. Style spreads easily, but the laws of physics do not.
The solution is to return to climate intelligence. Current regulations in the United Kingdom regarding excessive heating and studies on passive cooling in tropical and subtropical regions indicate the need to return to orientation, shading, ventilation pathways, and thermal mass. These are not backward-looking steps, but today’s responsibilities. If buildings are designed with local sun, wind, and culture in mind, they require less machinery, remain comfortable for longer, and foster a sense of belonging.
Forgotten Wisdom: Techniques Worth Reviving
Once upon a time, buildings provided a social environment without compressors, without being cool, bright, and dazzling, and without strangers having to stand close to each other. This was not magic; it was the result of careful geometry, airways, shade, mass, and shared space. Reviving these ideas does not mean rejecting technology. It means starting with physics and people, and turning to technology where the fundamentals fall short. The adaptive comfort approach behind the modern overheating guide also points us in the same direction: allow building occupants to interact with the climate, design building envelopes that breathe and act as buffers, and reserve heavy cooling for the rare days when it is truly necessary.
When we draw inspiration from climates that gave rise to courtyards, wind towers, verandas, and thick walls, we discover strategies that reduce heavy loads and make rooms more comfortable for the body. This is not aesthetic nostalgia. It is a performance enhancement that benefits people: more stable temperatures, softer light, cleaner air, and lower bills—plus the quiet social bonds that develop in well-designed shared spaces. Research on courtyards, wind catchers, and shared housing models shows that applying these principles with contemporary tools yields measurable gains in comfort, energy efficiency, and community cohesion.
Passive Cooling and Ventilation Strategies
A self-cooling building starts with air that knows where to go. The stack effect pulls warm air upward and outward; cross ventilation draws cooler air in from lower levels and expels heat. Traditional wind catchers have enhanced this system with long shafts that capture wind and maintain airflow even on windless days. Current research shows that well-proportioned wind catchers, especially when used in conjunction with night ventilation and shading, can provide significant temperature drops and high air exchange rates without using electricity. This is a simple lesson that can be learned by leveraging modern technology: first, map out pressure zones, determine the size of openings for potential winds, and ensure that channels and fans serve as auxiliary rather than primary elements.
Design applications are also advancing in terms of comfort standards. Adaptable models acknowledge that people tolerate and even prefer a wider range of comfort when they can open windows, feel airflow, or adjust blinds. In warm seasons, this expands the target and rewards passive cooling, which limits indoor temperatures from reaching their highest levels before machines start operating. Treat solar control as the first line of defense, then add controlled ventilation pathways to release heat at night. The result is a smaller facility, lower carbon emissions, and spaces that feel alive, not closed off.
The Use of Courtyards for Light, Air, and Life
Courtyards are the engines of microclimate. By capturing breezes, dispersing warm air upward, and allowing daylight into rooms, they balance extreme temperatures. Studies and fieldwork conducted in different climates show that when courtyard proportions and orientations are adjusted to the space, they can improve natural ventilation, daylight intake, and thermal stability. Shallow plans around open spaces reduce the distance sunlight must travel; vegetation and water further cool the air through evapotranspiration. The form is traditional, the performance is modern.
Today, what makes a courtyard functional is the attention to detail. Narrow wings increase cross ventilation between opposing facades; high outlets in stairwells or light wells intensify the airflow created by lift force; deciduous plants allow sunlight in during winter while providing shade in summer. Recent research on “courtyard sun rooms” in cold seasons shows that glass edges absorb heat during the day and close at night, reducing the need for heating without compromising social living space. The courtyard goes beyond being a void in a block, becoming the building’s lungs and living room.
Locally Sourced Materials and Local Styles
Material selection is a climate strategy. Heavy, local stone or earth walls store heat throughout the day in dry, hot regions and release it slowly after sunset; wood and fiber-based building elements, on the other hand, breathe and buffer moisture in temperate zones. Choosing materials sourced from the immediate vicinity is not merely a cultural gesture; it reduces transportation emissions and is often compatible with details developed over centuries to suit that climate. Carbon footprint guidelines consistently recommend locally sourced and recycled materials as practical first steps, while databases such as ICE help measure impacts in the early stages of design.
Translating local building forms into contemporary architecture is more about reproducing performance than copying appearance. Screens, grids, and deep projections become calibrated brise-soleil; thick walls become high-mass cores combined with night ventilation; sloped or ventilated roofs become stacked radiant barriers. When combined with honest carbon accounting and modern airtightness, these applications yield building envelopes that perform as robustly as new ones. The result is a building that belongs to its street, its climate, and its century.
Human-Centered Proportions and Ornamentation
Spaces are read by the body before the brain perceives them. Research at the intersection of architecture and cognition reveals the ideal point of organized complexity: if it is too simple, we lose interest; if it is too chaotic, we become exhausted. Materials, edges, shadows, and rhythms enhance readability and enjoyment, while natural references reduce stress. Biophilic design frameworks summarize evidence that patterns connected to nature, natural materials, and life systems can improve mood and cognitive performance. This reminds us that “comfort” encompasses the mind as well.
From this perspective, ornamentation is not decoration in and of itself; it is information that helps us find our way, relax, and care for spaces. A handrail that warms to the touch, a frieze that catches dust and sunlight, a projection that draws a soft line at 4 o’clock… These are small clues that bring a building down to human scale. When designers thoughtfully reintroduce scale and patterns, maintenance remains simple, and the space gains a love that prevents it from becoming a dumping ground. This emotional resilience is also a sustainability strategy.
Multi-Purpose Common Areas Within Residential Blocks
Homes don’t end at the doorstep; they spill over into thresholds where neighbors become more than just voices behind walls. Most of the world’s most livable housing models are deliberately designed to create shared spaces (arched passageways, courtyards, laundry terraces, and “intermediate” halls) that make chance encounters both possible and safe. Vienna’s centuries-old tradition of municipal housing demonstrates how generous semi-public interiors and landscaped courtyards can support stable communities and affordable housing. This model has also been documented in academic studies and journalism.
In densely populated tropical cities, the Singapore Housing and Development Board developed the “void deck,” an open ground-floor communal area located beneath residential blocks that also serves as a circulation, play, and activity space. Research and field reports illustrate how these shaded platforms continuously adapt: weddings one week, exercise for the elderly the next, pop-up libraries and gardens in between. The design lesson here is universal. If you provide a dignified space for daily life to flourish in places people already pass through, social capital grows without a scripted scenario. If you bring this to new housing, you create tangible resilience.
Environmental Studies: Designing the Future by Learning from the Past
Before air conditioning came along, buildings survived by working in harmony with the climate rather than fighting it. The most reliable lessons we can learn from that period are environmental, not stylistic. The orientation of buildings ensured that sunlight was filtered before hitting the windows, sections facilitated air circulation, roofs turned rain into a resource, and heavy walls in dry regions reduced the temperature difference between hot days and cool nights. Modern research and guidelines reiterate these fundamental principles and offer numbers, simulations, and codes to adapt them to the present day. The future lies not in rejecting technology, but in a transformation that prioritizes physics and then sensors.
Thermal Mass and Soil Materials in Arid Regions
In arid climates with large differences between daytime and nighttime temperatures, mass is a silent machine. Earthen walls—adobe, rammed earth, rammed earth blocks—absorb daytime heat and slowly release it after sunset, smoothing the indoor temperature curve. Government design guidelines and peer-reviewed studies define this buffering property as the fundamental advantage of high-thermal-mass materials: these materials prevent indoor temperatures from peaking and delay heat flow, so spaces remain at a constant temperature even as the desert shifts from midday to midnight.
Recently, materials science has been adding nuances rather than contradictions. Studies on stabilized and fiber-reinforced adobe report low thermal conductivity and high specific heat values, while also highlighting limitations primarily moisture management and detailing at the base and openings. In practice, the success of the exterior facade stems from combining daytime shading with nighttime ventilation when the outside air cools. This dual approach transforms thick earthen walls from a cultural reference into a measurable energy strategy for hot and arid regions.
Sloped Roofs and Rainwater Harvesting Techniques
A sloped roof serves as both a climate filter and a water collection area. Hydrology studies show that sloped, smooth roof surfaces can harvest significantly more rainwater than flat, rough surfaces. This is because flow occurs more quickly and losses due to surface storage are lower. Field guidelines are consistent with this physical reality: a specific slope aids clean runoff, while material selection (metal or porous tiles) alters the runoff coefficient and thus the storage capacity.
Designing the entire chain (gutter, downspout, first flush, tank) maintains the integrity of the system. Humanitarian WASH guidelines state that single-sloped roofs simplify collection because they collect water with a single gutter, and that storage capacity should be determined to meet the needs of several months of dry season in areas with seasonal rainfall. In practice, this is more about durability than rustic romanticism: rain becomes a building-scale public service that reduces pressure on municipal systems and ensures water security during outages.
Deep Shading and Shuttered Windows Characteristic of Tropical Architecture
In tropical regions, the sun provides both light and heat. Deep overhangs, verandas, and correctly angled shutters block high levels of sunlight while allowing views and diffused sky light to enter. Contemporary design guidelines for tropical regions (from UN-Habitat to CIBSE) translate this local wisdom into dimensions: minimum cut angles, combined vertical louvers against low-angle east/west sun, and separate shading in areas where facades heat up reduce glare and lower cooling needs.
Blinds are now designed without the need for guesswork. Parametric studies optimize blade depth and angle, improving useful daylight while controlling heat and supporting natural ventilation. Other studies test centrally mounted blind strategies that optimize energy usage intensity in conjunction with daylight measurements. The practical message is simple: Design your shutters and projections according to your latitude’s solar geometry, then allow the movable panels to adjust the airflow so that rooms feel airy without constant compressor operation.
Orienting Buildings According to Sun and Wind
Orientation is the cheapest energy measure that requires “setup.” Both classic and modern bioclimatic climate tables share the same view: align the main glass facades toward softer sunlight, make east-west facades compact or shaded, and adjust openings to capture prevailing winds while protecting against storms. Mahoney tables summarize this simply as recommendations based on climate type: long east-west plans, medium-sized openings on the north/south in hot and humid regions, and cross-ventilation paths designed from the initial sketch.
Recent studies have added device-specific nuances to the rules: horizontal devices perform best on north/south facades where the sun is higher, while vertical blades soften the light from the low angles of the morning and afternoon sun on east and west facades. In other words, orientation pre-selects the shading family and determines how easily you can keep heat out without losing light. Start by considering the sun’s movement and wind rose to establish the mass, then adjust everything else accordingly.
Energy Efficiency with Traditional Cross-Sections
Partitions make the climate understandable. High ceilings, roof vents, light wells, and atriums create pressure differences that draw cooler air in through shaded lower openings while moving warm air upward and outward. The study of atrium performance and natural summer ventilation demonstrates how stack-driven exhaust can reduce cooling loads when openings are sized and controlled, and how atrium geometry (long and narrow for buoyancy, wide and cross-linked for wind) alters the airflow regime.
Optimization efforts in light wells and ceiling profiles offer another advantage: Small changes in the well cross-section, inlet-outlet ratio, and ceiling form can increase both daylight distribution and natural air velocity, reducing glare while improving night ventilation efficiency. Traditional tropical houses intuitively achieved this through high ventilation openings, ventilated roof ridges, and deep-shaded galleries. Case studies based on current measurements confirm the same durability and prove that a good section is an energy device hidden within the architecture.
Cultural Continuity in Design: What We Must Never Give Up
Architecture does more than just provide us with shelter; it also carries the meanings that a community wishes to preserve. When cities forget this, buildings become silent objects. Cultural theorists refer to permanent places and elements as “memory spaces”; these are the places, objects, and rituals that hold a group’s shared past and identity. Good design strengthens these bonds; bad design severs them. By examining how ancient cultures preserved meaning through geometry, thresholds, craftsmanship, and stories, we gain practical tools to make future buildings understandable and beloved.
Continuity also lives on in people’s hands. Traditions survive not through the copying of forms, but through the teaching of skills. Japan’s recognition of its traditional woodworking crafts as Intangible Cultural Heritage is a living example of this: carpentry, plastering, lacquering, and tatami work are preserved as a whole, so that temples and houses can be repaired over centuries while remaining true to their original form. The message for contemporary applications is simple: value technique not as a nostalgic extra, but as a cultural asset.
Sacred Geometry and Symbolism in Urban Planning
In different cultures, plans have reflected cosmology. Jaipur’s eighteenth-century city plan follows a nonagonal mandala model derived from Vastu Shastra and adapted to the terrain and trade. Its right-angled boulevards and harmonious facades created a legible and symbolic capital that still functions as a marketplace today. This is geometry fulfilling two roles at once: organizing daily life while encoding a worldview.
Southeast Asia offers another powerful example. In Angkor, the moats and galleries represent the oceans and mountains of Hindu cosmology; the city’s waterworks and temple mounds combine the spiritual narrative with hydrological engineering. Read in this way, the infrastructure becomes a ritual space, requiring technical precision in terms of symbolism, orientation, approach, and boundaries.
Even the pragmatic Roman grids had meaning. The intersection of the cardo and decumanus determined the city layout and was often aligned with prophetic practices related to founding rituals, ensuring that the forum was at the center of movement and ceremonies. Today, when designing streets and squares, we can assign public purposes to these axes rather than merely facilitating traffic flow.
Thresholds, Transition Zones, and Ritual Entrances
Cultures have long used architecture to mark periods of transition, as thresholds help people assimilate change. Anthropology refers to this as “liminality”; this concept, which is the intermediate stage of a rite of passage, is clearly reflected in architectural elements such as entrances, foyers, porches, and courtyards that slow us down and prepare us. Design that stages arrival behaves like a gentle ritual: it separates noise from silence, work from worship, the private from the public.
Some types of thresholds are clearly sacred. The torii at Shinto shrines symbolize the transition from everyday life to the sacred realm; passing under it is a small ritual of attention. In churches in England, the lychgate once marked the passage from the village to sacred ground; it sheltered mourners, then released them into the churchyard. These elements are easily understood because they are precisely located at the point where identity changes.
Other thresholds relate to interior spaces and climate. Japan’s engawa, the intermediate strip beneath deep eaves, blends interior and exterior spaces, ventilates, provides shade, and becomes part of social life along its edges. Contemporary museums and homes have revived this as a human buffer that transforms a facade from merely a surface to look at into a place to be in.
Celebrating Craftsmanship and the Integrity of Materials
“Fidelity to materials” carries an ethical meaning, because it establishes a connection between how objects are made, how they feel, and how long they last. From Ruskin’s defense of handmade imperfections to the Bauhaus workshop philosophy, the argument was the same: allow the nature of wood, stone, clay, and metal to determine form and detail; make joints legible; let craftsmanship carry dignity. Buildings that adhere to this principle generally age better and require maintenance rather than renovation.
Craftsmanship makes culture restorable. Japan’s ability to preserve its UNESCO-listed wooden architecture demonstrates how a professional network preserves not only monuments but an entire construction method. This network harmonizes types, carpentry work, cladding, and maintenance cycles to ensure structures can be renewed without losing their spirit. Viewing skilled labor as an inheritance also changes the supply process: you order not just a product, but knowledge.
Architecture as Storytelling: Embedding Meaning
Cities tell stories not only through style but also through their layout. Kevin Lynch has shown that people find their way using clear paths, boundaries, districts, nodes, and landmark structures. When these elements are understandable, the city creates a shared narrative map in the mind. Therefore, designing for “visibility” is a cultural act: it helps residents remember and pass on the story of a place.
Monuments and everyday buildings can function as “urban works” that hold collective memory. Aldo Rossi argued that durable structures such as theaters, cemeteries, and marketplaces fix a city’s identity over time, even if their uses change. Contemporary monuments refine this language further: at the 9/11 Memorial, the “meaningful proximity” of voids and names creates a narrative that visitors read with their feet, telling a story of loss and connection.
Architectural Elements Linked to Collective Memory
Memory is often stored within small, repetitive things. Europe’s Stolpersteine—handmade brass stones placed on the sidewalks outside selected homes—transform daily routes into acts of remembrance. Because they are decentralized and numerous, they carry memory from museums to the streets and quietly connect private doorsteps to public history.
The listed thresholds and gates demonstrate how communities literally preserve meaning at boundaries. Lychgates in England have been identified due to their historical and social roles in preserving the experience of entering sacred ground. Treating such elements not as decorative items but as urban infrastructure makes neighborhoods understandable across generations and gives designers a task: to build new gateways worthy of preservation.
Designing with cultural continuity is not nostalgia; it is a commitment to consistency. Sacred geometries harmonize purpose and plan. Thresholds bring emotion and atmosphere to the stage. Craftsmanship makes buildings charming and repairable. Stories and small details carry memories over time. Together, they give modern architecture the depth it lacks and help future cities feel like home.
Moving Forward: Rebuilding the Spirit of Architecture
If the last century taught us to build fast, the next century must teach us to build wisely. This means revitalizing design education with local knowledge, enabling the public to read the city as easily as a book, and aligning policies so that low-carbon craftsmanship is not a boutique choice but the default option. None of this is nostalgic. This is an upgrade: combining time-tested practices with today’s science and standards to ensure buildings become enduring, resilient, and beloved structures. From climate literacy requirements in vocational education to continent-wide renovation plans that reward deeper and cleaner renovations, the change has already begun in schools, cities, and ministries.
Retraining Designers on Local Knowledge
The fastest way to build better buildings is to change what we teach and who we learn from. Programs based on local knowledge, such as the UNESCO Chair in Earthen Architecture run by CRAterre, treat earth, lime, wood, and fibers not as museum pieces but as living technologies with measurable performance. These programs train architects and builders to conduct soil testing, design for moisture, and detail for longevity, so that earth and bio-based building elements meet modern durability and safety goals. The Auroville Earth Institute promotes this globally through practical and online courses on compressed earth blocks and thin-shelled vaults, demonstrating how local materials can meet contemporary standards when detailing and quality control are meticulous.
Professional bodies are also moving in parallel. The Royal Institute of British Architects now mandates climate literacy (carbon thinking throughout the entire life cycle, building envelope prioritizing construction materials, and adaptable comfort) in accredited education and continuing practice. Independent reviews and commentary are pushing schools to embed these competencies deeply rather than treating sustainability as an elective course. When the core curriculum expects students to perform carbon modeling, understand the value of repair, and seek region-appropriate solutions, local craftspeople and learning from climates move beyond being optional and become the foundation of design.
Promoting architectural literacy among the public
A culture that can “read” buildings demands better buildings. Open House festivals transform entire cities into classrooms over a weekend, giving millions of people direct access to normally closed spaces and the stories behind them. In 2023 alone, the Open House Worldwide network welcomed over a million visitors to thousands of buildings, led by thousands of volunteers; this is not a niche audience, but a civic habit. Architecture centers sustain this interest throughout the year: The Chicago Architecture Center reaches approximately half a million people annually through exhibitions, river tours, and school programs, while the Danish Architecture Center in Copenhagen organizes exhibitions and discussions that connect design to everyday life. The better people understand the built environment, the more they demand daylight over bright lights, mixed-use over sprawl, and repair over demolition.
Cities can strengthen this literacy not only in museums but also in their classrooms. Field trips, guided tours, and youth studios make concepts such as orientation, shading, and cross-section understandable at ages when they will be remembered. When a ten-year-old child learns why a courtyard is cool or why a projection is important, they become a voter and customer who expects better buildings, and the cycle between culture and practice is completed.
Policy Incentives for Sustainable Traditional Techniques
Policy is where good intentions become common practice. In Europe, the Renovation Wave is the flagship of the Green Deal, which aims to at least double annual renovation rates by 2030 and modernize millions of buildings through guidance and financing for deeper and healthier renovation work. France’s RE2020 framework includes a state “Bâtiment biosourcé” label that rewards carbon accounting throughout the entire life cycle and, along with it, the use of bio-based materials such as wood, straw, and hemp. This label has recently been updated to strengthen threshold values and governance. These tools make it easier for design teams to identify regional, low-carbon buildings without encountering difficulties.
In the United States, adaptive reuse and building envelope improvements are being accelerated through three tools: the Federal Historic Tax Credit, which has facilitated billions of dollars in private sector investment in the rehabilitation of historic buildings since 1976; C-PACE financing, which allows property owners to recoup energy improvements through property assessments; and city laws such as New York’s Local Law 97, which limits emissions from large buildings and compels property owners to significantly reduce emissions starting in the mid-2020s. When these tools come together, it becomes more attractive to preserve and improve a building rather than renovate it, especially when traditional materials and passive measures help achieve performance targets.
Successful Revitalization Projects
In Bordeaux, Lacaton & Vassal, along with Frédéric Druot and Christophe Hutin, demonstrated how social housing built in the 1960s could be transformed without eviction or demolition. The Grand Parc project surrounded three towers with slender winter gardens and balconies, preserving the original structure while providing 530 homes with daylight, space, and natural ventilation. The result won the 2019 EU Mies Award and, more importantly, proved that loving what already exists can be superior to demolition in terms of cost, carbon footprint, and prestige.
Sahel bölgesinde, Francis Kéré’nin Gando’daki çalışmaları, yerel kilin, topluluk işgücü ve ayarlanmış havalandırma ile güçlendirilerek, minimum mekanik gereksinimle serin ve dayanıklı okullar inşa edilebileceğini göstermektedir. Gando İlköğretim Okulu, Aga Khan Ödülü’nü kazandı ve güzelliği iklim uygunluğu ve zanaatla birleştiren bir uygulamayı başlatmaya yardımcı oldu. Benzer dersler Bangladeş’te Anna Heringer’in METI Okulu’nda da ortaya çıkıyor. Burada bambu ve toprak, öğrenciler ve köylüler tarafından inşa edilen hafif, nefes alabilen bir yapı oluşturuyor ve bu yapı hem inşaat hem de vatandaşlık eğitimi sağlıyor.
At the city block scale, Singapore’s Kampung Admiralty district is reviving the concept of shared terraces for the new generation by constructing housing for the elderly atop clinics, markets, and lush terraces. Natural cross ventilation, daylight, and layered public spaces transform a compact area into a social hub, winning global awards and offering a replicable model for aging cities. Meanwhile, in India’s Kutch region, the Hunnarshala Foundation rebuilt thousands of homes after the 2001 earthquake, updating traditional techniques like circular bhunga and stabilized earth walls with seismic details. This proves that tradition and safety can coexist.
Design with Emotion, History, and Responsibility
Buildings have an impact on our bodies and memories. Kevin Lynch’s classic concept of “visibility” reminds us that cities feel legible and welcoming when streets, boundaries, districts, nodes, and landmark structures are easily understandable. Aldo Rossi’s writings on urban structures explain why certain types and places carry identity across generations. Designing with these ideas in mind does not mean copying old styles; it means creating sequences and elements that people can remember, value, and pass on.
Responsibility also means quietly protecting health. Evidence behind biophilic design shows that when nature is genuinely integrated through daylight, views, materials, and microclimate, stress decreases and cognitive functions improve. Public health guidelines on environmental noise remind us that tranquility is not a luxury but a measurable necessity. When we combine these human factors with low-carbon building envelopes and local craftsmanship, we create spaces that are emotionally generous and technically frugal; a future that feels better because it works better.