Most people think of urban open spaces in terms of grand parks—Chicago’s Millennium Park or New York’s Central Park or San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park. These are our iconic parks—our sublime spaces. They serve as the “lungs” of our cities, and they certainly steal our hearts. These spaces are not locked behind gates but are stages where our own lives play out and memories are created, full of movement and reflection and joy.  There are more modest spaces in our cities, though, that are just as important to our lives—the thresholds and courtyards and pocket parks. They’re the places where we bump into our neighbors to walk our dogs or read on a bench in an environment where nature takes over. They are often unheralded like a great Olmsted Park, but always full of potential for true placemaking to begin.   My father, Edwin Smith was director of parks and recreation for the City of Eugene, Oregon and he knew this. He served for more than 30 years and was responsible for the design and development of 41 parks and greenways in and around the city. His work had a profound impact on me as a future architect. More to the point, his work and vision quietly enhanced the lives of so many people in the community as their access to parks was interwoven into their lives.   Westmoreland Park is one of Eugene’s centerpiece parks and is a great example. Its gentle slopes and lush lawns support stands of mature cedars and redwoods, not to mention Douglas firs, hemlocks, spruces, and the Oregon white oak. Even if you don’t know all those trees by sight, you know Westmoreland Park if you live in Eugene, and you know that it offers something for almost every active resident. I think that’s the importance of a well-designed space—it invites and it responds.   Living ribbon of connection  Responsiveness is a word worth pausing on for a moment. It’s the entire reason for design—architectural, urban, or otherwise—and it’s one of the hallmarks of placemaking.  My firm, MG2, recently envisioned design for an attainable housing project in Irvine, California, that was meant to respond to a specific housing challenge in a rapidly changing part of the state. It isn’t a monolith. It is, instead, what we think of as a living ribbon of connection—a continuous path that links breezeways, community gardens, play areas, and shared courtyards woven throughout the residential units. It is not simply a circulation route. It is a spine, and just like our spines, everything it touches depends upon it for structure. But more importantly, this isn’t just a collection of amenities. It is a social ecosystem. The layout fosters degrees of interaction—private balconies that open into semi-private courtyards, which in turn flow into cooperative gardens and fully public gathering spaces. Residents can choose solitude, casual interaction, or spirited communal activity—each space encouraging a different rhythm of human engagement. Children play while parents share meals. Strangers become neighbors over garden beds. This is architecture as social infrastructure.  To reimagine open space is not to think bigger—it is to think deeper. To look between, beneath, beyond. It is to ask: How do we shape space to be responsive? How do we design for encounter, for joy, for the unplanned but meaningful moments of connection?  Let us not treat the spaces between buildings as voids. Let us see them as vessels—of life, of community, of possibility. Let us design not just for shelter, but for spirit. Let us reimagine open spaces.  Mitch Smith AIA, LEED AP is the CEO and chairman of MG2, an affiliate of Colliers Engineering & Design. 

No stage, no problem. The All-American Rejects bring the mosh pit to the front lawn. Credit: TikTok composite: @ChicagoBucketList, @marissamccall, @STLGUIDE314 In a live music landscape often dominated by inflated ticket prices and impersonal stadium shows, The All-American Rejects are flipping the script. The band recently kicked off a "house party" tour, and it’s exactly what it sounds like. Instead of arenas or overpriced amphitheaters, the band is offering fans a chance to host a literal house party with a live, pop-up performance from the band themselves. So far, they've played a backyard in Chicago, a bowling alley in Minneapolis, on someone's lawn in Columbia, Missouri for a bunch of college grads, and on the quad at the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay. Fans can even apply through the link in the band’s Instagram bio to bring the show to their city.The "house party" concept leans heavily into nostalgia, which is a smart play for a band whose early 2000s singles "Dirty Little Secret" and "Move Along" helped define an era of pop-punk adolescence for millennials. But it’s not just about revisiting the past. This tour taps into something deeper: the intimate, communal energy of early DIY shows that forged lasting connections between bands and their fans. And it has landed the band on FYPs across the country. You May Also Like SEE ALSO: For fans, Ticketmaster is misery business Perhaps partly because of its online popularity, it’s not just longtime listeners showing up. These intimate shows, often held on college campuses or in public spaces, are introducing The All-American Rejects to a new generation of fans who weren’t around when the band ruled TRL, but who instantly get the appeal of a sing-along anthem in a backyard with no wristbands required.Even more remarkable? These shows are mostly free to attend. In a time when Ticketmaster’s dynamic pricing has made big concert experiences unattainable for many, this feels less like a gimmick and more like a rebellion. The All-American Rejects are bringing live music directly to fans — no dynamic pricing, no service charges, no $25 parking. Mashable Trend Report: Coming Soon! Decode what’s viral, what’s next, and what it all means. Sign up for Mashable’s weekly Trend Report newsletter. By clicking Sign Me Up, you confirm you are 16+ and agree to our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy. Thanks for signing up! At a recent stop in Minneapolis, the All-American Rejects frontman Tyson Ritter delivered a fiery, heartfelt speech that quickly went viral — a clip of the moment, posted by @marissamccall, has racked up over one million views on TikTok. Speaking to a packed crowd, Ritter captured the spirit of the house party tour with blunt honesty: "I want to thank you for coming out and giving a shit about a rock’n’roll band that supports the common man. We’re not trying to sell you finance tickets to Coachella, we’re not trying to sell you Ticketmaster fucking penalty fees, we’re not trying to sell you $25 parking. We’re just trying to sell you some songs you might have grown up with, and let you fucking let go with us in this non-denominational church of rock'n'roll." The message — part middle finger to concert bloat, part love letter to fans — struck a nerve. Online, fans praised the band for keeping things grounded, authentic, and centered on the music. In an industry increasingly ruled by algorithms, corporate markups, and VIP upgrades, Ritter’s words felt like both a rebellion and a revival.As one commenter on TikTok put it, "The HARDEST recession indicator. we are SO back." In an interview with KBIA in Missouri, Ritter explained how the idea for the tour came about: "The whole thing about this has been sort of like this weird synchronistic happenstance of reactivity. We played this random house party [in Los Angeles], and it was like, of all the shows we played in the last 10 years, it was, like, this big wake-up call to the reality of, 'Oh, this is why we started doing this.' We played in house shows. We played backyards, VFWs, and I just told my manager, 'That worked. Let’s do that.'" And they are. One lawn, quad, and bowling alley at a time. Topics Music TikTok Crystal Bell Digital Culture Editor Crystal Bell is the Culture Editor at Mashable. She oversees the site's coverage of the creator economy, digital spaces, and internet trends, focusing on how young people engage with others and themselves online. She is particularly interested in how social media platforms shape our online and offline identities. She was formerly the entertainment director at MTV News, where she helped the brand expand its coverage of extremely online fan culture and K-pop across its platforms. You can find her work in Teen Vogue, PAPER, NYLON, ELLE, Glamour, NME, W, The FADER, and elsewhere on the internet. She's exceptionally fluent in fandom and will gladly make you a K-pop playlist and/or provide anime recommendations upon request. Crystal lives in New York City with her two black cats, Howl and Sophie.

When Chelsea Riggs, CEO of Brooklyn-based haircare brand amika, envisioned a new workspace, she wanted it to be the antithesis of a standard business hub. “It’s intentionally designed to be the anti-office, a place where the boundaries between work and inspiration are fluid,” she says. CIVILIAN was selected to design the 19,000-square-foot open office, located at 25 Kent in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. The designers envisioned a space that was elevated yet still welcoming. It is a headquarters that enhances productivity, and encourages the staff of young creatives to re-engage with a physical office after the era of remote work – with an emphasis on collaboration. “We didn’t want it to be a typical corporate office, but a reflection of their energy and culture,” notes Ksenia Kagner, co-founder of CIVILIAN. The reception area sets an inviting tone, with a bespoke travertine desk with rounded edges. Beige tiles decorate the exposed columns, while strategically placed acoustic treatments minimize distracting noise. In the main work area, instead of assigned desks, employees tend to tasks at 25-foot-long communal tables that seat 20 people on each side, complete with outlets and linear lighting. This arrangement supports a dynamic environment and fosters interaction between teams. Many of the furnishings are custom-made items with gentle curves that echo organic forms. Ten upholstered nooks and private phone booths limit sight lines and are ideal for heads-down, focused work. The executive offices function as shared huddle rooms which feature soft seating and breakout areas of varying sizes. These areas democratize access and still allow for privacy when needed. A window-side lounge with views of the East River and the Manhattan skyline serves as a prime gathering spot for staff and visitors. The company’s signature colors are hot pink and vivid orange, found on packaging and printed collateral. Rather than highlight an accent wall with one of the bold hues, the team chose a sophisticated earthy palette of beige, gray, stone, and cream tints to serve as a backdrop for the vibrant shades and graphics. The interplay of plush fabrics, limewash finishes, and delicately painted surfaces invites exploration. White oak brings in a warmth that balances out the concrete elements. “There was a focus on texture and surface quality as a contrast, which really made the products and displays stand out,” says CIVILIAN co-founder Nicko Elliott. Flexible planning and the introduction of thoughtful design moments throughout improves the overall feeling within. The headquarters showcases the company’s unique identity while optimizing space and performance. It also now doubles as an event space in the evening, which exemplifies the studio’s holistic vision for the client. “The office is not just a place where people come to clock in and work, it has become a platform for amika as a haircare industry leader,” adds Kagner. For more information on CIVILIAN, visit civilianprojects.com. Photography by Sean Davidson.

How to Design Residential Urban Terraces: Strategies for Living Well in High PlacesSave this picture!Phoenix Rooftop / BENT Architecture. © Dianna SnapeIn today’s dense, vertical cities, terraces—often overlooked as mere technical rooftops—are emerging as key spaces for reconnecting with nature, expanding residential functions, and offering moments of collective relief. Particularly in single-family homes located in compact urban areas, these elevated surfaces represent valuable opportunities to increase usable living space without occupying more land. By lifting daily life above street level, terraces open new ways of inhabiting the city, enabling a range of uses from leisure and contemplation to food production and social gathering. In contexts marked by limited green space and strained infrastructure, they hold the potential to generate what landscape architect Catherine Mosbach calls "additional layers of urbanity." Whether imagined as hanging gardens, gathering spots, edible landscapes, or wellness zones, terraces challenge the idea that the city ends at the top floor—inviting us to see the roof as a new kind of ground.As early as the 1920s, Le Corbusier recognized both the symbolic and functional power of rooftops through his concept of the “fifth façade”—a dynamic, accessible upper surface capable of hosting gardens, leisure spaces, and new forms of urban life. This forward-thinking vision resonates strongly today in the face of environmental and social challenges. Landmark projects such as MVRDV’s monumental temporary staircase in Rotterdam, giving public access to a rooftop, or large-scale initiatives like Toronto’s Green Roof program, Paris’s green roof mandate, and New York’s rooftop community gardens show how these spaces are being reimagined as infrastructure—by both public authorities and private actors alike. Save this picture!Although many rooftop activation projects focus on multifamily buildings or public facilities, growing attention is now being directed at terraces in single-family homes—especially on tight urban lots where the traditional backyard is being replaced by an active roof. In the context of increasing climate extremes and urban heat islands, these surfaces also gain ecological significance: they help regulate temperature, retain rainwater, and foster biodiversity. Still, their use remains limited by technical, legal, and cultural barriers, requiring targeted architectural solutions to truly integrate them into urban life—particularly at the domestic scale. Related Article The History of Useful Flat Roofs Varied Uses: How Climate and Context Shape TerracesBecause terraces are inherently outdoor spaces, their use and design are shaped by regional climates and cultural habits. In dry, sunny areas like the Mediterranean or the Middle East, terraces naturally extend the home and are often used for outdoor dining, sleeping under the stars, growing herbs and vegetables, or fostering intergenerational social interaction.Save this picture!In humid tropical regions such as Southeast Asia or Brazil, terraces require specific adaptations—like pergolas or awnings for shade, efficient drainage, and dense vegetation for thermal control. Even with these adjustments, they remain versatile and are commonly adapted as gourmet areas or compact urban gardens.Beyond these familiar uses, other forms of appropriation highlight the symbolic and practical flexibility of terraces. In dense cities where land is scarce, they can serve entirely new functions: as elevated playgrounds with safe, lightweight structures for children, or as pet-friendly zones with artificial turf, agility circuits, and shaded resting spots.Save this picture!More unexpected uses also emerge—retractable screens for family movie nights, quiet spaces for reading or meditation, sensory gardens filled with aromatic and medicinal plants, or small home observatories for stargazing that blend leisure with education. Some people even transform terraces into creative studios—spaces for painting, sculpture, or interactive installations. These varied possibilities reveal the terrace as an intimate, adaptable setting that reflects the evolving stages, routines, and identities of its inhabitants.Save this picture!Access and Integration: Connecting Indoors and OutdoorsA key factor in how terraces are used is their connection to the rest of the house. In single-family homes, the ease and quality of access largely determine how integrated and frequently used a terrace becomes. When access is limited to technical stairs or routed through service areas, the terrace tends to be seen as secondary and remains underused. By contrast, when access is direct, comfortable, and embedded in the domestic routine—through well-placed internal staircases, terraced gardens, or generous openings that link social spaces to the roof—the terrace becomes a natural extension of the home and is activated in everyday life.Save this picture!Contemporary architecture increasingly explores this sense of spatial continuity. Sculptural staircases, operable skylights, interior walkways, and large sliding glass doors enable smooth transitions between inside and out, blurring the boundaries between living space and rooftop. In narrow urban plots, well-designed compact solutions can link the upper floor to the terrace while enhancing light and ventilation—turning the journey upward into a deliberate part of the architectural experience.Save this picture!Form and Volume: The Terrace as an Architectural GestureFar from being flat, utilitarian surfaces, terraces can play a defining role in the architectural expression of single-family homes. Their volumetric configuration—whether as a full rooftop, half-terrace, stepped platform, or garden balcony—directly shapes the building’s silhouette and its dialogue with the urban context. Instead of defaulting to untreated concrete slabs, the terrace can continue the language of interior spaces through multilevel platforms, built-in planters and benches, reflecting pools, or pergolas that bring depth and texture to the composition. On sloped lots, they may cantilever outward or serve as scenic urban lookouts, expanding both visual and functional space. From a design standpoint, terraces allow for experimentation that breaks away from conventional single-story or stacked house typologies—creating compositions that play with mass and void, opacity and light, surface and shadow—making the terrace a true architectural gesture.Save this picture!Materials: Safety, Comfort, and Aesthetics at the TopMaterial choices are critical to the function, durability, and comfort of terraces. Exposed to sun, rain, and temperature shifts, these areas demand robust and safe materials. Common flooring options include non-slip porcelain tiles, treated wood decking, permeable concrete pavers, and other high-performance surfaces that balance durability with effective drainage. Structures like pergolas, brise-soleils, or tensioned fabric canopies help create shade and thermal comfort, using materials such as wood and steel.Save this picture!Waterproofing is equally essential—typically achieved through asphalt sheets, liquid membranes, or thermoplastic coatings—always combined with efficient drainage systems and, ideally, rainwater harvesting for reuse. Planters and gardens also require specific setups: at least 30 cm of depth for herbs and grasses, more than 60 cm for larger plants, with reinforced waterproofing. Pools, if planned, must be structurally accounted for from the start, given the weight and load implications. Safety is non-negotiable: guardrails over 1.10 meters high and edge barriers are vital to ensuring the secure use of rooftop spaces.Save this picture!Expanding Limits: The Micropolitics of Urban AirspaceAltogether, these examples point to the rise of a new urban paradigm: recognizing terraces and rooftops as open-air spaces with vast, yet often untapped, potential. It is important, however, to acknowledge that not all homes have access to such spaces—which makes it even more urgent to explore inclusive, collective, and accessible ways of activating rooftops. Expanding domestic life upward—whether individually or communally—opens the door to new spatial narratives within the city.Save this picture! Image gallerySee allShow less About this authorCamilla GhisleniAuthor••• Cite: Ghisleni, Camilla. "How to Design Residential Urban Terraces: Strategies for Living Well in High Places" [Como Projetar Terraços Urbanos Residenciais: Estratégias para Viver nas Alturas] 21 May 2025. ArchDaily. (Trans. Simões, Diogo) Accessed . <https://www.archdaily.com/1030258/how-to-design-residential-urban-terraces-strategies-for-living-well-in-high-places&gt ISSN 0719-8884Save世界上最受欢迎的建筑网站现已推出你的母语版本!想浏览ArchDaily中国吗?是否 You've started following your first account!Did you know?You'll now receive updates based on what you follow! Personalize your stream and start following your favorite authors, offices and users.Go to my stream

Banánka House | © Matej Hakár Tucked at the forested edge of the village of Banka, Slovakia, the Banánka House by Paulíny Hovorka Architects presents a compelling case for contemporary domestic architecture that merges tectonic clarity with landscape immersion. Conceived as a tranquil family retreat, the project engages with its natural surroundings through mimicry, strategic alignment, material honesty, and spatial humility. The house, completed in 2024, demonstrates how architectural restraint can produce profound spatial richness rooted in its immediate context. Banánka House Technical Information Architects1-14: Paulíny Hovorka Architects Location: Banka, Slovakia Area: 416 m2 | 4,477 Sq. Ft. Project Year: 2020 – 2024 Photographs: © Matej Hakár Our goal was to create a home that dissolves into the landscape; not through mimicry, but through spatial clarity, material honesty, and a deep respect for the existing garden and forest context. – Braňo Hovorka & Martin Paulíny, Paulíny Hovorka Architects Banánka House Photographs Aerial View | © Matej Hakár Aerial View | © Matej Hakár Aerial View | © Matej Hakár © Matej Hakár © Matej Hakár © Matej Hakár © Matej Hakár © Matej Hakár © Matej Hakár © Matej Hakár © Matej Hakár © Matej Hakár © Matej Hakár © Matej Hakár © Matej Hakár Context and Site Integration The siting of the Banánka House is informed by the quiet drama of the landscape: a narrow, tree-lined valley bordered by a stream and punctuated with mature vegetation. The location, formerly a private garden plot, offers deep privacy and a rare ecological density. Rather than flattening the site’s particularities, the design responds through subtraction and negotiation, shaping space around every tree and allowing the topography and the existing vegetation to dictate the orientation and form. The Y-shaped plan emerges as a calibrated response to solar orientation and visual permeability. Each wing subtly avoids the existing trees while dividing the expansive 2,338 m² plot into smaller, intimate gardens. These outdoor “rooms” are not ornamental but spatial continuations of the interior, forming a sequence of landscape moments that support the house’s contemplative intent. The architectural narrative here is one of measured insertion, of making space without domination. Architectural Strategy and Spatial Configuration At the heart of the house lies a central living hall, a capacious yet grounded volume that anchors the three divergent wings. The organization radiates from this communal core. One wing houses the children’s and guest rooms, another the master suite and wellness area, and the third accommodates the entry, storage, and technical spaces. The cruciform-like geometry ensures that each functional zone is autonomous and connected, enabling a coherent domestic flow while maintaining privacy. Circulation is direct and legible, eschewing unnecessary corridors in favor of open transitions that extend outward toward the landscape. Programmatic zoning further reinforces the spatial hierarchy. Noisy and social functions are clustered in the center, while private and meditative spaces taper off into the periphery. The result is an architecture of quiet adjacency, where the interior is continuously in dialogue with the exterior yet never competes with it. Banánka House Materiality and Construction Materially, Banánka asserts itself with raw precision. Board-formed concrete ceilings and walls form the structural and atmospheric backbone of the house. The texture, an imprint of timber shuttering, evokes both permanence and memory, grounding the building in its material origins. This monolithic palette is punctuated by galvanized steel gabion walls filled with crushed stone, further blurring the threshold between architecture and terrain. Timber elements, in thermally modified pine and engineered oak, lend a tactile warmth to the composition, mediating the concrete’s brute strength. The project’s fenestration, ultra-slim framed glazing by KOYA and Otiima, avoids ornament in favor of maximum openness. These sliding elements disappear into wall pockets, dissolving boundaries and allowing for uninterrupted environmental continuity. Even thermal strategies are seamlessly integrated. Kooltherm and PIR insulation boards are concealed behind clean detailing, while Schöck’s Isokorb breaks address structural thermal bridging without visual compromise. The interior, devoid of superfluous décor, is defined by custom-built furniture and integrated storage solutions. The architectural language avoids distraction. Hidden doors, continuous surfaces, and a cohesive palette reinforce an atmosphere of visual calm. Lighting by Eden Design and Vibia and a restrained selection of fixtures by Ceadesign and Agape extend the project’s minimal ethos down to the finest details. Atmosphere, Experience, and Meaning Banánka is not a house that demands attention but rewards observation. It is a house built not for display but for living, emphasizing temporal rhythms and sensory engagement. The melancholic quality of the site, its muted light, rustling leaves, and distant water, finds a counterpoint in the solidity of the architecture. This structure does not compete with its surroundings but holds space for them. Its spatial generosity is not measured in size but in porosity. Each room has a view, a threshold, and a moment of connection. The terrace, with its outdoor kitchen, pond-side dining, and integrated grill, extends the central living space without rupture. The wellness area, complete with a sauna and plunge pool, serves as a domestic ritual space, bridging comfort and nature through proximity to the stream. The name “Banánka,” a local term for a female resident of Banka, anchors the project in place and culture. There is a poetic continuity here. The architecture is distinctly modern but unmistakably rooted in its geographic and linguistic context. Banánka stands as a model of how regionalism can be reinterpreted not through imitation but through intention. Banánka House Plans Site Plan | © Paulíny Hovorka Architects Floor Plan | © Paulíny Hovorka Architects Axonometric View | © Paulíny Hovorka Architects Banánka House Image Gallery About Paulíny Hovorka Architects Paulíny Hovorka Architects is a Slovak architectural studio based in Banská Bystrica, founded by Martin Paulíny and Braňo Hovorka in 1998. The studio is known for its context-sensitive designs that prioritize material honesty, spatial clarity, and sustainable construction. Their work spans residential and commercial projects, focusing on integrating architecture into its natural and urban surroundings through thoughtful concepts and precise detailing. Credits and Additional Notes Lead Architects: Braňo Hovorka, Martin Paulíny Co-author: Natália Galko Michalová Design Team: Veronika Ivanovičová, Lenka Kopfová, Radovan Krajňak Structural Engineer: Pavol Hubinský Landscape Architect: Martin Sučič Gross Floor Area: 300 m² Usable Floor Area: 244 m² Plot Size: 2,338 m² Monolithic Structure Contractor: Texo Group  Windows and Glazed Walls Supplier: KOYA Windows  Bespoke Furniture: DL INTERIER Bathroom and Kitchen Supplier: Design Club  Built-in Grill Supplier: Gargo Furniture and Lighting Supplier: Triform Factory

In Park City, Utah, large estates dot world-class ski slopes on epic mountain ranges, locals are decked out in expensive winter sports gear, and the richest of residents have spas in their houses and more bathrooms than bedrooms.The 20-square-mile ski town east of Salt Lake City has 8,000 residents, many of whom live in luxury.According to a Realtor.com study published in April, 84060 (Park City) is the most expensive ZIP code in the state, with a median listing price of roughly $3.5 million.I spent one day in Park City in January to get a taste of how millionaires live and vacation in this popular ski hub. Wandering from the downtown streets to the slopes, I clocked five signs of wealth. Perhaps the most obvious sign of wealth in Park City, Utah, is the ski-in, ski-out housing. Homes sit on the slopes in Park City's Deer Valley neighborhood. Joey Hadden/Business Insider Park City's most expensive listing on Realtor.com is a $39 million mansion with 9 bedrooms, 14 bathrooms, and ski-in, ski-out access.Real-estate agent Derrik Carlson, who has lived in Park City for over 20 years and began selling homes in the area in 2012, told me that many of his clients buy houses in the Colony and Deer Valley, as well as the Canyons, located in Park City's 84098 ZIP code. All three neighborhoods are popular choices for incoming residents who want direct access to the slopes."You just go right out the door and pop on your skis, and you're on the slopes," he said.The luxury amenities in these homes go beyond skiing. Many have lap pools, spas with saunas and massage rooms, and even movie theaters. It might not scream wealth like a fleet of fancy cars, but the free public transit felt like a luxury you wouldn't find just anywhere. A funicular moves down the mountain in Deer Valley. Joey Hadden/Business Insider Living in NYC, free public transportation is a luxury I'm not used to. In addition to the city's free bus system, I found another costless ride that felt like an activity.At the St. Regis Deer Valley, a free funicular takes patrons to the slopes at Deer Valley Mountain Resort. And you don't have to be a hotel guest to use it.I marveled at the views as the wide-windowed car trekked up the mountain. At the top, there was an outdoor lounge overlooking the slopes. From the deck with firepits and glass walls, skiers sliding down the trails looked like toy action figures in the distance. In downtown Park City, I found more upscale public amenities. A communal fire pit sits in a courtyard in Park City. Joey Hadden/Business Insider Downtown Park City was full of shops, restaurants, and public courtyards where I found large, electric lit firepits that were round and made of stone. Wide benches surrounded each pit.It was a pleasant place to warm up and rest.I also saw a public bathroom in downtown Park City — a rarity for a New Yorker. Although I didn't go inside, I checked Google Maps and found that most public restrooms in Park City have five-star reviews. I also saw private dining globes on outdoor restaurant decks. Alpenglobes at Butcher's Chop House & Bar in Park City. Joey Hadden/Business Insider Winters are harsh in Park City, so it made sense to me that the wealthy would want to enjoy the views without the weather. Park City has many restaurants with private, heated igloos and Alpenglobes. These enclosed spaces are designed to give guests views of the mountains and night skies while feasting with friends and family.The experience isn't cheap. The Alpenglobes I saw at Butcher's Chop House & Bar cost about $100 to book, with a minimum dinner bill of $500, according to the restaurant's website.If dinner in a globe isn't your vibe, you'll find plenty of fine dining establishments along Main Street. The downtown area also housed luxury boutiques and celebrity-loved shops. Kemo Sabe and other shops in downtown Park City. Joey Hadden/Business Insider The downtown streets were lined with art galleries and upscale boutique stores selling fashion lines from international designers, locally made goods, and luxury furniture and decor.The store I instantly recognized was Kemo Sabe — a celebrity-loved western apparel brand with other stores in Wyoming, Colorado, Montana, and Texas.Kemo Sabe is best known for its hats that cost up to $900, as seen on icons from the Kardashians to Rihanna and Shania Twain. The hats can cost thousands with customizations like leather and diamond bands. In Park City, it's almost impossible to forget you're in a wealth enclave. The reporter enjoys a day in Park City. Joey Hadden/Business Insider After spending just one day in the affluent ski town, I found signs of wealth and luxury around nearly every corner.

Sitting on public benches can sometimes be a tricky situation, depending on what kind of person you are. If you’re naturally an extrovert, you probably wouldn’t mind sharing a bench with a stranger and might even strike up a conversation with that other person. If you’re not that comfortable with social interactions with strangers, you will probably choose to sit somewhere unoccupied by another person. But what if the bench was built to challenge not just how we sit but also how we interact with other people? In the heart of Einbeck, Germany, a unique public installation is redefining the concept of communal seating. Berlin-based artist Martin Binder’s latest creation, the “Balance Bench,” is more than just a place to rest—it’s a compelling exploration of cooperation, communication, and shared space. At first glance, the Balance Bench appears to be a minimalist piece of furniture, constructed from oak slats atop a sleek, powder-coated steel frame. However, its design deviates from traditional benches by resting on a single central cylinder instead of four legs. Designer: Martin Binder This unique structure means the bench cannot be used alone; it requires at least two people to sit on opposite ends to achieve balance. If one person attempts to sit alone, the bench tips, making it unusable without mutual effort. Well, yes you can still probably use it but you would have to find the balance yourself or be watched by other people as you try to sit on it properly. The bench’s mechanics compel users to engage with one another, fostering a sense of community and shared responsibility. Originally intended for a public art festival in 2021, the project was delayed due to the pandemic’s restrictions. Now, four years later, the installation serves as a poignant reflection on how the pandemic has altered our interactions in public spaces. Situated in the Garden of Generations in Einbeck, the Balance Bench invites park-goers to engage in a shared experience. Its design challenges individuals to communicate and adjust their positions to achieve balance, transforming a simple act of sitting into an interactive social exercise. The bench accommodates up to eight people along its 4.5-meter length, making it a focal point for community interaction. Binder’s installation not only provides a functional seating option but also serves as a catalyst for conversation and connection. By integrating principles of cooperation and mutual awareness into its design, the Balance Bench exemplifies how public art can foster community engagement and reflect societal values. The post Communal bench is also a kinetic installation to foster interaction first appeared on Yanko Design.

Social Housing Units 2104 / HARQUITECTESSave this picture!© Adrià GoulaApartments•Palma, Spain Architects: HARQUITECTES Area Area of this architecture project Area:  1610 m² Year Completion year of this architecture project Year:  2024 Photographs Photographs:Adrià Goula Lead Architects: David Lorente, Josep Ricart, Xavier Ros, Roger Tudó More SpecsLess Specs Save this picture! Text description provided by the architects. On the plot where the Social Housing were built, primarily intended for the elderly, there was a building that we were obliged to demolish due to its non-compliance with urban planning regulations and its poor condition—there was no possibility of preserving it. It was a small, disused three-story school constructed with structural sandstone (marès) walls and concrete and ceramic ceilings. The project's distinctive strategy was the utilization of demolition materials from the old school as resources to construct the new building, practicing what we might call urban mining: where material resources come from the urban plot itself, resulting from the demolition of the pre-existing building.Save this picture!Once the demolition was completed and materials were selected, nearly all the rubble was repurposed according to material type. First, pieces of ceramic and concrete elements (140 m³) were poured into the foundation pits and walls of the semi-basement. Second, all the sandstone (about 160 m³) was used to construct large blocks (approximately 3,000 units) of cyclopean concrete with cement and lime mixed with recycled marès stone (40% of the block volume), composed of large cobbles up to 30 cm in diameter, sandstone gravel, and picadís (sand, also from marès). Each block was cut with a large disc saw from a 4 x 4 m2 slab, so that the stones reappeared on the faces of the blocks.Save this picture!The blocks for the top floor, bearing less load, are made of 100% lime concrete, while the rest of the floors combine lime with cement. These blocks, approximately 135 cm long, 42 cm high, and with variable widths for each floor (64, 54, 44, and 34 cm), were prefabricated once the demolition was completed, before commencing the construction of the new building. This approach significantly reduced the construction duration.Save this picture!The blocks were stacked to build load-bearing walls perpendicular to the street, supporting cross-laminated timber ceilings. On each floor, the walls reduce in thickness by 10 cm, allowing direct support of the timber panels, facilitating the speed of execution of the entire structure.Save this picture!Save this picture!Perpendicular to the main walls, 13 cm thick partition walls, constructed with the same cyclopean concrete and resulting from cutting a 60 cm wide block into four 13 cm sections, tie the structure of the entire building, together with the stair and elevator core.Save this picture!The entire spatial and programmatic organization of the building responds to the described structural system; the floor plan is organized with a stair core in the corner, providing access to a walkway in the interior garden, from where each apartment is accessed—all are through apartments except those on the semi-basement floor, which, like those on the attic floor, have half the depth of the typical floors and utilize two structural spans for each apartment. The top-floor apartments have large terraces. Each floor also has a communal area (laundry room, lounges, etc.).Save this picture!Save this picture!Save this picture!The façade starkly displays the structural system: the end walls (vertical) of the prefabricated block walls, which decrease in height on each floor and support the timber (horizontal) ceilings, and, as the façade of each apartment, floor-to-ceiling wooden balconies with a lateral opaque strip and Venetian blinds to protect from the eastern and western sun.Save this picture!Save this picture!La fachada muestra descarnadamente el sistema estructural: los testeros (verticales) de los muros de bloques prefabricados, que decrecen en cada planta y soportan los techos de madera (horizontales) y, como fachada de cada apartamento, de suelo a techo, balconeras de madera con una franja opaca lateral y persianas alicantinas para proteger del sol de este y oeste.Save this picture! Project gallerySee allShow less Project locationAddress:Palma, SpainLocation to be used only as a reference. It could indicate city/country but not exact address.About this officeHARQUITECTESOffice••• MaterialsConcreteBrickMaterials and TagsPublished on May 20, 2025Cite: "Social Housing Units 2104 / HARQUITECTES" [Unidades de vivienda social 2104 / HARQUITECTES] 20 May 2025. ArchDaily. Accessed . <https://www.archdaily.com/1030185/social-housing-units-2104-harquitectes&gt ISSN 0719-8884Save世界上最受欢迎的建筑网站现已推出你的母语版本!想浏览ArchDaily中国吗?是否 You've started following your first account!Did you know?You'll now receive updates based on what you follow! Personalize your stream and start following your favorite authors, offices and users.Go to my stream

Hundertwasser’s home in the Kaurinui Valley, located just 20 minutes north of Kawakawa and less than a three-hour drive from Auckland, is to be the only one of his homes around the world that is open to the public. I was given a tour by volunteers from Living Hundertwasser, including Richard Smart, who worked closely with Hundertwasser for eight years and now represents the non-profit Hundertwasser Foundation in New Zealand. Born Friedrich Stowasser in Austria in 1928, Hundertwasser was a world-famous painter and architect, renowned for his radical views and eccentric approach to design. His childhood, marked by the devastations of World War II, led him to find solace in painting alternative worlds filled with nature, vibrant colours and abstract forms that would later influence the trajectory of his environmentalism and architecture.1 The Eyeslit, Kaurinui, 2025.© Image:  Richard Smart In 1976, he settled in New Zealand, purchasing a dairy farm in the Kaurinui Valley with the intention of setting nature free.2 He did just that: over two decades planting 150,000 trees and widening the Kaurinui Stream that flows through the farm. His philosophy is embodied in every aspect of the property and, despite recent health-and-safety upgrades, Hundertwasser’s dwellings remain as he left them, down to his last shopping list and paintbrushes left on the table. The tour begins at the Eyeslit, a Hundertwasser design built after his death, replacing the old decaying farmhouse. Aligned with his distinctive style, it features vibrant pink walls, colourful mosaics and columns reminiscent of his iconic Kawakawa toilets. The Eyeslit serves as a communal space for a pre-tour introduction to Hundertwasser and his legacy that lives on in Kaurinui. The Bottlehaus, Kaurinui.©  Image:  Richard Smart The tour continues through four of his six idiosyncratic dwellings scattered throughout the property, each reflecting his ecological philosophies. The next stop is The Boatshed, a gabled timber building, home to his boat, La Giudecca. Across a bridge over the Kaurinui Stream is The Cave, a space dug into the hillside, containing a bench and hundreds of wētā. Returning over the stream, we arrive at The Pigsty, Hundertwasser’s primary dwelling, which, true to its name, is a former pigsty converted into a habitable space. Inside, a hallway stretches the length of the home, with the kitchen, dining and living room, and a combined bedroom and bathroom branching off. It is built from recycled glass bottles and natural materials, such as earth bricks and logs laid on their sides, extending from inside to outside, mortared in place with a lime, cement and sawdust mixture. With its spontaneously vegetated green roof, felled tree trunk columns and uneven interior floors, the dwelling echoes his philosophy that buildings, like human skin, should grow and wrinkle over time, evolving alongside nature.3 Mountain Hut, Kaurinui, 1994/95.©  Image:  Richard Smart The Bottlehaus, originally the farm’s milking shed, is Hundertwasser’s other main residence. The interior is filled with natural light from the polycarbonate skylight and bottle walls, providing perfect conditions for painting. Not yet included in the tour because of their distance are the Railway Hut and Mountain Hut. Smart recounts how he and his children would hike up to the Mountain Hut, spending the night in the home, built three-quarters underground. The walls and floor are clay earth and the roof, covered in wild greenery, sits just above the ground’s surface. Hundertwasser’s alignment with Māori culture is reflected throughout his homes; adorning the walls are timber-carved tiki and the koru flag he designed for New Zealand, symbolising a unified national identity. Hundertwasser was inherently nomadic, moving between buildings based on their various functions, inadvertently resembling the organisation of customary Māori papakāinga settlements, where buildings serve distinct purposes. Māori would move between kāinga seasonally, leaving structures built from natural materials to decay and return to the earth. At the tour’s final stop, the Exhibition Building, a letter from Hundertwasser’s friend A. D. Fagan in 1974 describes him as a guardian of the land, a sentiment akin to Māori identification as kaitiaki – guardians of the whenua. Before his death, Hundertwasser expressed his desire for Māori artists to have equal opportunities in New Zealand. This wish was realised in the Whangārei Hundertwasser Art Centre and Wairau Māori Art Gallery, completed in 2022.4 Throughout the property, Hundertwasser’s interventions – from a waterwheel and outdoor bath to timber plank bridges and ladders feeding into ponds – speak to a lifestyle that reinforces his commitment to living in harmony with nature. In contrast to his bold European architecture, Hundertwasser’s New Zealand home is more subdued and organic, blending seamlessly into the forest, indistinguishable from the natural environment. As Living Hundertwasser volunteer Clive Jackson explains, “He wanted to let the colours of nature speak.” He allowed nature to exist in its most wild and natural state, supporting his 1983 Peace Treaty with Nature, where he asserted that humanity must put itself behind ecological barriers so the earth can regenerate.5 As an example, he considered trees to be fellow ‘tenants’ on the property, who ‘paid rent’ through their provision of oxygen, beauty and joy.6 Hundertwasser died in 2000 and, at his own request, was buried under a tulip tree at Kaurinui, his body returning to the earth to nourish the ‘tree tenant’. This final act encapsulates his lifelong philosophy of humanity in harmony with nature and, as such, he lives on through the property. Hundertwasser famously stated, “We are only guests of nature and must behave accordingly. Man is the most dangerous pest ever to devastate the earth.”7 In a world where modern architecture is disrupting the natural environment and climate, Kaurinui offers a blueprint for a return to ‘original nature’ – a more sustainable, symbiotic relationship with the earth, and one that resonates with our country’s indigenous identity and the role we must assume as kaitiaki, guardians, of the natural world. REFERENCES 1 Nir Barak, 2022, ‘Friedensreich Hundertwasser (1928–2000)’, The Architectural Review, 18 October 2022. 2 Andreas J. Hirsch, 2022, ‘Hundertwasser’s “Five Skins” Unfold’, in Hundertwasser in New Zealand: The Art of Creating Paradise. Auckland: Oratia Books, p. 72. 3 Wieland Schmied, 2007, For a More Human Architecture in Harmony with Nature: Hundertwasser Architecture. Köln: Taschen, p. 259. 4 Cooperation Agreement 2016, p. 24. 5 Friedensreich Hundertwasser, 1983, Peace Treaty with Nature, Hundertwasser Foundation. hundertwasser.com/en/texts/friedensvertrag_mit_der_natur 6 Wieland Schmied, 2007, For a More Human Architecture in Harmony with Nature: Hundertwasser Architecture, p. 86. 7 Hundertwasser Foundation. 2016. Hundertwasser Architektur & Philosophie. Germany: Wörner Verlag GmbH, p. 30.