3D creators, visual artists and curators still have time to make submissions on this year's theme.

While it’s now accepted by many that video games are an art form, it still might be hard to believe that one is featured in an exhibit at the same museum that’s home to Leonardo da Vinci’s “Mona Lisa”: The Louvre in Paris. But this week, Xbox and World’s Edge Studio announced a partnership with what is arguably the most prestigious museum in the world for its new exhibition, “Mamluks 1250–1517.” Related Stories For those who are unaware of how the gaming studios connect to this aspect of the Egyptian Syrian empire: The Mamluks cavalry are among the many units featured in Xbox and World’s Edge Studio’s “Age of Empires” video game franchise. The cavalry is a fan favorite choice in the game centered around traversing the ages and competing against rival empires, particularly in “Age of Empires II: Definitive Edition.” Popular on Variety Presented at the Louvre until July 28, the exhibit “Mamluks 1250–1517″ recounts “the glorious and unique history of this Egyptian Syrian empire, which represents a golden age for the Near East during the Islamic era,” per its official description. “Bringing together 260 pieces from international collections, the exhibition explores the richness of this singular and lesser-known society through a spectacular and immersive scenography.” This marks the first time a video game franchise has collaborated with the Louvre Museum, with installations and events that occur both in person at the museum and online through the “Age of Empires” game: Official “Louvre Museum” scenario in Age of Empires II: Definitive Edition Players can embody General Baybars and Sultan Qutuz at the really heart of the Ain Jalut battle(1260), which opposed the Mamluk Sultanate to the Mongol Empire. This scenario, speciallycreated for the occasion, is already available in Age of Empires II: Definitive Edition (see onhttp://www.ageofempire.com/lelouvre for instructions on finding the map in the game) [LiveTuesday 10th at 9am PT/6pm BST].Exclusive Gaming Night on Twitch Live from the Louvre On Thursday, June 12, at 8 PM, streamer and journalist Samuel Etienne (1.1M FrenchStreamer) will replay live from the exhibition “Mamluks 1250-1517” at the Louvre the official“Louvre Museum” scenario to relive the famous Battle of Ain Jalut on the game Age of EmpiresII: Definitive Edition, in the presence of Le Louvre Teams and one of the studio’s developers.This is an opportunity to learn more about the history of the Mamluks and their representationin the various episodes of the saga.Cross-Interview: The Louvre x Age of Empires To discover more, an interview featuring Adam Isgreen, creative director at World’s Edge, thestudio behind the franchise, and Souraya Noujaïm and Carine Juvin, curators of the exhibition,is available on the YouTube channels of the Louvre and Age of Empires.Mediation and Gaming Sessions at the Museum Museum visitors at the Louvre are invited to test the scenario of the Battle of Ain Jalut,specially designed for the Mamluk exhibition, in the presence of a Louvre mediator and anXbox representative during an exceptional series of workshops. The sessions will take place onFridays, June 20, 27, and 4 & 11 of July. All information and registrations are available here:www.louvre.fr “World’s Edge is honoured to collaborate with Le Louvre,” head of World’s Edge studio Michael Mann said. “The ‘Age of Empires’ franchise has been bringing history to life for more than 65 million players around the world for almost 30 years. We’ve always believed in the great potential for our games to spark an interest in history and culture. We often hear of teachers using ‘Age of Empires’ to teach history to their students and stories from our players about how ‘Age of Empires’ has driven them to learn more, or even to pursue history academically or as a career. This opportunity to bring the amazing stories of the Mamluks to new audiences through the Louvre’s exhibition is one we’re excited to be a part of. We hope that through the excellent work of the Louvre’s team, the legacy of the Mamluks can be shared around the world, and that people enjoy their stories as they come to life through ‘Age of Empires.'” “We are delighted to welcome ‘Age of Empires’ as part of the exhibition Mamluks 1250–1517, through a unique partnership that blends the pleasures of gaming with learning and discovery,” Souraya Noujaim, director of the Department of Islamic Arts and chief curator of the exhibition at le Louvre Museum, said. “It is a way for the museum to engage with diverse audiences and offer a new narrative, one that resonates with contemporary sensitivities, allowing for a deeper understanding of artworks and a greater openness to world history. Beyond the game, the museum experience becomes an opportunity to move from the virtual to the real and uncover the true history of the Mamluks and their unique contribution to universal heritage.” See video and images below from the “Age of Empires” in-game event and the in-person exhibit at the Louvre.

Key Takeaways on Ant PoopDo ants poop? Yes. Any creature that eats will poop and ants are no exception. Because ants live in close quarters, they need to protect the colony from their feces so bacteria and fungus doesn't infect their health. This is why they use toilet chambers. Whether they isolate it in a toilet chamber or kick it to the curb, ants don’t keep their waste around. But some ants find a use for that stuff. One such species is the leafcutter ant that takes little clippings of leaves and uses these leaves to grow a very particular fungus that they then eat.Like urban humans, ants live in close quarters. Ant colonies can be home to thousands, even tens of thousands of individuals, depending on the species. And like any creature that eats, ants poop. When you combine close quarters and loads of feces, you have a recipe for disease, says Jessica Ware, curator and division chair of Invertebrate Zoology at the American Museum of Natural History. “Ant poop can harbor bacteria, and because it contains partly undigested food, it can grow bacteria and fungus that could threaten the health of the colony,” Ware says. But ant colonies aren’t seething beds of disease. That’s because ants are scrupulous about hygiene.Ants Do Poop and Ant Toilets Are RealAnt colony underground with ant chambers. (Image Credit: Lidok_L/Shutterstock)To keep themselves and their nests clean, ants have evolved some interesting housekeeping strategies. Some types of ants actually have toilets — or at least something we might call toilets. Their nests are very complicated, with lots of different tunnels and chambers, explains Ware, and one of those chambers is a toilet chamber. Ants don’t visit the toilet when they feel the call of nature. Instead, worker ants who are on latrine duty collect the poop and carry it to the toilet chamber, which is located far away from other parts of the nest. What Does Ant Poop Look Like? This isn’t as messy a chore as it sounds. Like most insects, ants are water-limited, says Ware, so they try to get as much liquid out of their food as possible. This results in small, hard, usually black or brownish pellets of poop. The poop is dry and hard enough so that for ant species that don’t have indoor toilet chambers, the workers can just kick the poop out of the nest.Ants Use Poop as FertilizerWhether they isolate it in a toilet chamber or kick it to the curb, ants don’t keep their waste around. Well, at least most types of ants don’t. Some ants find a use for that stuff. One such species is the leafcutter ant. “They basically take little clippings of leaves and use these leaves to grow a very particular fungus that they then eat,” says Ware. “They don't eat the leaves, they eat the fungus.” And yep, they use their poop to fertilize their crops. “They’re basically gardeners,” Ware says. If you’d like to see leafcutter ants at work in their gardens and you happen to be in the New York City area, drop by the American Museum of Natural History. They have a large colony of fungus-gardening ants on display.Other Insects That Use ToiletsAnts may have toilets, but termites have even wilder ways of dealing with their wastes. Termites and ants might seem similar at first sight, but they aren’t closely related. Ants are more closely related to bees, while termites are more closely related to cockroaches, explains Aram Mikaelyan, an entomologist at North Carolina State University who studies the co-evolution of insects and their gut microbiomes. So ants’ and termites’ styles of social living evolved independently, and their solutions to the waste problem are quite different.“Termites have found a way to not distance themselves from the feces,” says Mikaelyan. “Instead, they use the feces itself as building material.” They’re able to do this because they feed on wood, Mikaelyan explains. When wood passes through the termites’ digestive systems into the poop, it enables a type of bacteria called Actinobacteria. These bacteria are the source of many antibiotics that humans use. (Leafcutter ants also use Actinobacteria to keep their fungus gardens free of parasites.) So that unusual building material acts as a disinfectant. Mikaelyan describes it as “a living disinfectant wall, like a Clorox wall, almost.”Insect HygieneIt may seem surprising that ants and termites are so tidy and concerned with hygiene, but it’s really not uncommon. “Insects in general are cleaner than we think,” says Ware. “We often think of insects as being really gross, but most insects don’t want to lie in their own filth.”Article SourcesOur writers at Discovermagazine.com use peer-reviewed studies and high-quality sources for our articles, and our editors review for scientific accuracy and editorial standards. Review the sources used below for this article:The American Society of Microbiology. The Leaf-cutter Ant’s 50 Million Years of FarmingAvery Hurt is a freelance science journalist. In addition to writing for Discover, she writes regularly for a variety of outlets, both print and online, including National Geographic, Science News Explores, Medscape, and WebMD. She’s the author of Bullet With Your Name on It: What You Will Probably Die From and What You Can Do About It, Clerisy Press 2007, as well as several books for young readers. Avery got her start in journalism while attending university, writing for the school newspaper and editing the student non-fiction magazine. Though she writes about all areas of science, she is particularly interested in neuroscience, the science of consciousness, and AI–interests she developed while earning a degree in philosophy.

Barricades, as we know them today, are thought to date back to the European wars of religion. According to most historians, the first barricade went up in Paris in 1588; the word derives from the French barriques, or barrels, spontaneously put together. They have been assembled from the most diverse materials, from cobblestones, tyres, newspapers, dead horses and bags of ice (during Kyiv’s Euromaidan in 2013–14), to omnibuses and e‑scooters. Their tactical logic is close to that of guerrilla warfare: the authorities have to take the barricades in order to claim victory; all that those manning them have to do to prevail is to hold them.  The 19th century was the golden age for blocking narrow, labyrinthine streets. Paris had seen barricades go up nine times in the period before the Second Empire; during the July 1830 Revolution alone, 4,000 barricades had been erected (roughly one for every 200 Parisians). These barricades would not only stop, but also trap troops; people would then throw stones from windows or pour boiling water onto the streets. Georges‑Eugène Haussmann, Napoleon III’s prefect of Paris, famously created wide boulevards to make blocking by barricade more difficult and moving the military easier, and replaced cobblestones with macadam – a surface of crushed stone. As Flaubert observed in his Dictionary of Accepted Ideas: ‘Macadam: has cancelled revolutions. No more means to make barricades. Nevertheless rather inconvenient.’   Lead image: Barricades, as we know them today, are thought to have originated in early modern France. A colour engraving attributed to Achille‑Louis Martinet depicts the defence of a barricade during the 1830 July Revolution. Credit: Paris Musées / Musée Carnavalet – Histoire de Paris. Above: the socialist political thinker and activist Louis Auguste Blanqui – who was imprisoned by every regime that ruled France between 1815 and 1880 – drew instructions for how to build an effective barricade Under Napoleon III, Baron Haussmann widened Paris’s streets in his 1853–70 renovation of the city, making barricading more difficult Credit: Old Books Images / Alamy ‘On one hand, [the authorities] wanted to favour the circulation of ideas,’ reactionary intellectual Louis Veuillot observed apropos the ambiguous liberalism of the latter period of Napoleon III’s Second Empire. ‘On the other, to ensure the circulation of regiments.’ But ‘anti‑insurgency hardware’, as Justinien Tribillon has called it, also served to chase the working class out of the city centre: Haussmann’s projects amounted to a gigantic form of real-estate speculation, and the 1871 Paris Commune that followed constituted not just a short‑lived anarchist experiment featuring enormous barricades; it also signalled the return of the workers to the centre and, arguably, revenge for their dispossession.    By the mid‑19th century, observers questioned whether barricades still had practical meaning. Gottfried Semper’s barricade, constructed for the 1849 Dresden uprising, had proved unconquerable, but Friedrich Engels, one‑time ‘inspector of barricades’ in the Elberfeld insurrection of the same year, already suggested that the barricades’ primary meaning was now moral rather than military – a point to be echoed by Leon Trotsky in the subsequent century. Barricades symbolised bravery and the will to hold out among insurrectionists, and, not least, determination rather to destroy one’s possessions – and one’s neighbourhood – than put up with further oppression.   Not only self‑declared revolutionaries viewed things this way: the reformist Social Democrat leader Eduard Bernstein observed that ‘the barricade fight as a political weapon of the people has been completely eliminated due to changes in weapon technology and cities’ structures’. Bernstein was also picking up on the fact that, in the era of industrialisation, contention happened at least as much on the factory floor as on the streets. The strike, not the food riot or the defence of workers’ quartiers, became the paradigmatic form of conflict. Joshua Clover has pointed out in his 2016 book Riot. Strike. Riot: The New Era of Uprisings, that the price of labour, rather than the price of goods, caused people to confront the powerful. Blocking production grew more important than blocking the street. ‘The only weapons we have are our bodies, and we need to tuck them in places so wheels don’t turn’ Today, it is again blocking – not just people streaming along the streets in large marches – that is prominently associated with protests. Disrupting circulation is not only an important gesture in the face of climate emergency; blocking transport is a powerful form of protest in an economic system focused on logistics and just‑in‑time distribution. Members of Insulate Britain and Germany’s Last Generation super‑glue themselves to streets to stop car traffic to draw attention to the climate emergency; they have also attached themselves to airport runways. They form a human barricade of sorts, immobilising traffic by making themselves immovable.   Today’s protesters have made themselves consciously vulnerable. They in fact follow the advice of US civil rights’ Bayard Rustin who explained: ‘The only weapons we have are our bodies, and we need to tuck them in places so wheels don’t turn.’ Making oneself vulnerable might increase the chances of a majority of citizens seeing the importance of the cause which those engaged in civil disobedience are pursuing. Demonstrations – even large, unpredictable ones – are no longer sufficient. They draw too little attention and do not compel a reaction. Naomi Klein proposed the term ‘blockadia’ as ‘a roving transnational conflict zone’ in which people block extraction – be it open‑pit mines, fracking sites or tar sands pipelines – with their bodies. More often than not, these blockades are organised by local people opposing the fossil fuel industry, not environmental activists per se. Blockadia came to denote resistance to the Keystone XL pipeline as well as Canada’s First Nations‑led movement Idle No More. In cities, blocking can be accomplished with highly mobile structures. Like the barricade of the 19th century, they can be quickly assembled, yet are difficult to move; unlike old‑style barricades, they can also be quickly disassembled, removed and hidden (by those who have the engineering and architectural know‑how). Think of super tripods, intricate ‘protest beacons’ based on tensegrity principles, as well as inflatable cobblestones, pioneered by the artist‑activists of Tools for Action (and as analysed in Nick Newman’s recent volume Protest Architecture).   As recently as 1991, newly independent Latvia defended itself against Soviet tanks with the popular construction of barricades, in a series of confrontations that became known as the Barikādes Credit: Associated Press / Alamy Inversely, roadblocks can be used by police authorities to stop demonstrations and gatherings from taking place – protesters are seen removing such infrastructure in Dhaka during a general strike in 1999 Credit: REUTERS / Rafiqur Rahman / Bridgeman These inflatable objects are highly flexible, but can also be protective against police batons. They pose an awkward challenge to the authorities, who often end up looking ridiculous when dealing with them, and, as one of the inventors pointed out, they are guaranteed to create a media spectacle. This was also true of the 19th‑century barricade: people posed for pictures in front of them. As Wolfgang Scheppe, a curator of Architecture of the Barricade (currently on display at the Arsenale Institute for Politics of Representation in Venice), explains, these images helped the police to find Communards and mete out punishments after the end of the anarchist experiment. Much simpler structures can also be highly effective. In 2019, protesters in Hong Kong filled streets with little archways made from just three ordinary bricks: two standing upright, one resting on top. When touched, the falling top one would buttress the other two, and effectively block traffic. In line with their imperative of ‘be water’, protesters would retreat when the police appeared, but the ‘mini‑Stonehenges’ would remain and slow down the authorities. Today, elaborate architectures of protest, such as Extinction Rebellion’s ‘tensegrity towers’, are used to blockade roads and distribution networks – in this instance, Rupert Murdoch’s News UK printworks in Broxbourne, for the media group’s failure to report the climate emergency accurately Credit: Extinction Rebellion In June 2025, protests erupted in Los Angeles against the Trump administration’s deportation policies. Demonstrators barricaded downtown streets using various objects, including the pink public furniture designed by design firm Rios for Gloria Molina Grand Park. LAPD are seen advancing through tear gas Credit: Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times via Getty Images Roads which radicals might want to target are not just ones in major metropoles and fancy post‑industrial downtowns. Rather, they might block the arteries leading to ‘fulfilment centres’ and harbours with container shipping. The model is not only Occupy Wall Street, which had initially called for the erection of ‘peaceful barricades’, but also the Occupy that led to the Oakland port shutdown in 2011. In short, such roadblocks disrupt what Phil Neel has called a ‘hinterland’ that is often invisible, yet crucial for contemporary capitalism. More recently, Extinction Rebellion targeted Amazon distribution centres in three European countries in November 2021; in the UK, they aimed to disrupt half of all deliveries on a Black Friday.   Will such blockades just anger consumers who, after all, are not present but are impatiently waiting for packages at home? One of the hopes associated with the traditional barricade was always that they might create spaces where protesters, police and previously indifferent citizens get talking; French theorists even expected them to become ‘a machine to produce the people’. That could be why military technology has evolved so that the authorities do not have to get close to the barricade: tear gas was first deployed against those on barricades before it was used in the First World War; so‑called riot control vehicles can ever more easily crush barricades. The challenge, then, for anyone who wishes to block is also how to get in other people’s faces – in order to have a chance to convince them of their cause.        2025-06-11 Kristina Rapacki Share

Tutankhamun’s Iconic Gold Death Mask Is Getting a New Home Near the Pyramids of Giza Soon, the elaborately decorated artifact will be transferred to the brand new Grand Egyptian Museum, joining more than 5,000 other items from the boy king’s tomb Tutankhamun's gold funerary mask has been on display at the Egyptian Museum for nearly a century. Mostafa Elshemy / Anadolu Agency / Getty Images For nearly a century, visitors have flocked to the Egyptian Museum on Cairo’s Tahrir Square to admire Tutankhamun’s funerary mask, the intricately decorated artifact designed to cover the mummified pharaoh’s face. Starting this summer, they’ll be able to see the mask in its new home, the $1 billion Grand Egyptian Museum located in nearby Giza. Officials will soon transfer the mask to the massive new venue, where it will join more than 5,000 artifacts from the boy king’s tomb. “Only 26 objects from the Tutankhamun collection, including the golden mask and two coffins, remain here [at the Egyptian Museum] in Tahrir,” says Ali Abdel Halim, director of the Egyptian Museum, to the Agence France-Presse (AFP). “All are set to be moved soon.” Halim didn’t say when the death mask will be transferred, but the new Grand Egyptian Museum is scheduled to fully open to the public in early July after years of delays. Some portions of the Grand Egyptian Museum have been open since November 2023, with an additional 12 exhibit halls opening last October. All told, the museum complex spans more than 5 million square feet and houses more than 100,000 artifacts, which makes it the largest museum in the world focused on a single civilization. “We spent all this money to build the greatest museum in the world,” said Zahi Hawass, an Egyptologist who has twice served as Egypt's tourism and antiquities minister, to NBC News’ Keir Simmons, Charlene Gubash and Mithil Aggarwal in October. “You will see the objects for the first time in an incredible way.” The Untold Secrets of King Tut's Tomb Watch on Tutankhamun's mask has been housed at the Egyptian Museum in Cairo since 1934, 12 years after British archaeologist Howard Carter discovered the pharaoh’s tomb. However, the 123-year-old Beaux Arts venue is small and starting to show its age, so officials decided to relocate Tutankhamun's treasures to the enormous, high-tech Grand Egyptian Museum. At the new facility, the Tutankhamun artifacts will have their own dedicated, climate-controlled wing—one that’s large enough to display all of them together for the first time. Last month, officials carefully transferred 163 Tutankhamun treasures to the new museum, according to an announcement from the Egyptian Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities. That delivery included the pharaoh’s elaborately decorated ceremonial chair, various pieces of jewelry and the canopic chest that held the jars containing Tutankhamun’s organs, reports Artnet’s Sarah Cascone. The Egyptian Museum in Cairo, meanwhile, is not closing. Though it has lost Tutankhamun’s treasures and more than 20 mummies, it still has roughly 170,000 artifacts in its collection, per the AFP. Curators say they plan to replace the Tutankhamun artifacts with a new exhibition, though they haven’t shared many details. Get the latest stories in your inbox every weekday.

Architizer’s Vision Awards are back! The global awards program honors the world’s best architectural concepts, ideas and imagery. Submit your work ahead of the Final Entry Deadline on July 11th! Behind the term “paper architecture” hides a strange paradox: the radical act of building without, well, building. Paper architecture is usually associated with speculative design projects, presented in the form of drawings, which can also be considered art pieces. However, even though it is often dismissed as a mere utopian or academic exercise, paper architecture has historically served as a powerful form of protest, advocating against political regimes, architectural orthodoxy or cultural stagnation. Unbound by real-world limitations such as materials, regulations and budgets, paper architects are free to focus on the messages behind their designs rather than constantly striving for their implementation. In parallel, due to its subtleness, paper architecture has become a platform that enables radical commentary via a rather “safe” medium. Instead of relying on more traditional forms of protest (such as strikes or marches) this powerful visual language, combined with scrupulous aesthetics and imagination can start a more formidable “behind-the-scenes rebellion”. Unearthing Nostalgia by Bruno Xavier & Michelle Ashley Ovanessians, A+ Vision Awards, 2023 Perhaps the most well-known paper architects, Archigram was a radical British collective that was formed in the 1960s in London. Their work Walking City or Plug-In City showcased visions of a playful, technologically driven architecture that deeply contrasted and, by extent, protested against the rigid regime of post-war modernism and its extensive bureaucracy. This pop-art-style architecture served as a powerful critique towards the saturated idea of functional monotony. Additionally, the Russian architect, artist, and curator, Yuri Avvakumuv introduced the term “paper architecture” within the restrictive cultural and political climate of late Soviet Russia (1984). Having to deal with heavy censorship, Avvakumuv turned to competitions and speculative drawings in an attempt resist that dominance of totalitarian architecture. Poetic, deeply allegorical and oftentimes ironic architectural renderings, critiqued the bureaucratic sterility of Soviet planning and the state-mandated architectural principles architects had to follow. Consequently, this profound demonstration of un-built architecture within the specific setting, turned into a collective cultural wave that advocated artistic autonomy and expression for the built environment. Klothos’ Loom of Memories by Ioana Alexandra Enache, A+ Vision Awards, 2023 The Amerian architect Lebbeus Woods was also one of the most intellectually intense practitioners of paper architecture, whose work touches upon global issues on war zones and urban trauma. His imaginative, post-apocalyptic cities opened up discussions for rebuilding after destruction. Works such as War and Architecture and Underground Berlin, albeit “dystopic”, acted as moral propositions, exploring potential reconstructions that would “heal” these cities. Through his drawings, he rigorously investigated and examined scenarios of ethical rebuilding, refusing to comply to the principles of popular commerce, and instead creating a new architectural practice of political resistance. Finally, operating within a very male-dominated world, Zaha Hadid’s earlier work — particularly on Malevich — served as a protesting tool on multiple levels. Influenced by Suprematist aesthetics, her bold, dynamic compositions stood against the formal conservatism of architectural ideas, where the design must always yield to gravity and function. In parallel, her considerable influence and dominance on the field challenged long-standing norms and served as a powerful counter-narrative against the gender biases that sidelined women in design. Ultimately, her images – part blueprints, part paintings – not only proved that architecture could be unapologetically visionary and abstract but also that materializing it is not as impossible as one would think. (Your) My Bedroom by Daniel Wing-Hou Ho, A+ Vision Awards, 2023 Even though paper architecture began as a medium of rebellion against architectural convention in the mid-20th century, it remains, until today, a vital tool for activism and social justice. Operating in the digital age, social media and digital platforms have amplified its reach, also having given it different visual forms such as digital collages, speculative renders, gifs, reels and interactive visual narratives. What was once a flyer, a journal or a newspaper extract, can now be found in open-source repositories, standing against authoritarianism, climate inaction, political violence and systemic inequality. Groups such as Forensic Architecture (Goldsmiths, University of London)  carry out multidisciplinary research, investigating cases of state violence and violations of human rights through rigorous mapping and speculative visualization. Additionally, competitions such as the eVolo Skyscraper or platforms like ArchOutLoud and Design Earth offer opportunities and space for architects to tackle environmental concerns and dramatize the urgency of inaction. Imaginative floating habitats, food cities, biodegradable megastructures etc. instigate debates and conversations through the form of environmental storytelling. The Stamper Battery by By William du Toit, A+ Vision Awards, 2023 Despite being often condemned as “unbuildable”, “impractical” or even “escapist,” paper architecture acts as a counterweight to the discipline’s increasing instrumentalization as merely a functional or commercial enterprise. In architecture schools it is used as a prompt for “thinking differently” and a tool for “critiquing without compromise”. Above all however, paper architecture matters because it keeps architecture ethically alive. It reminds architects to ask the uncomfortable questions: how should we design for environmental sustainability, migrancy or social equality, instead of focusing on profit, convenience and spectacle? Similar to a moral compass or speculative mirror, unbuilt visions can trigger political, social and environmental turns that reshape not just how we build, but why we build at all. Architizer’s Vision Awards are back! The global awards program honors the world’s best architectural concepts, ideas and imagery. Submit your work ahead of the Final Entry Deadline on July 11th! Featured Image: Into the Void: Fragmented Time, Space, Memory, and Decay in Hiroshima by Victoria Wong, A+ Vision Awards 2023 The post Paper Architecture: From Soviet Subversion to Zaha’s Suprematism appeared first on Journal.

This edition of the Venice Biennale includes 65 national pavilions, 11 collateral events, and over 750 participants in the international exhibition curated by Italian architect and engineer Carlo Ratti. Entitled Intelligens: Natural Artificial Collective, its stated aim is to make Venice a ‘living laboratory’. But Ratti’s exhibition in the Arsenale has been hit by mixed reviews. The AJ’s Rob Wilson described it as ‘a bit of a confusing mess’, while other media outlets have called the robot-heavy exhibit of future-facing building-focused solutions to the climate crisis a ‘tech-bro fever dream’ and a ‘mind-boggling rollercoaster’ to mention a few. It is a distinct shift away from the biennale of two years ago twhen Ghanaian-Scottish architect Lesley Lokko curated the main exhibitions, including 89 participants – of which more than half were from Africa or the African diaspora – in a convincing reset of the architectural conversation.Advertisement This year’s National Pavilions and collateral exhibits, by contrast, have tackled the largest themes in architecture and the world right now in a less constrained way than the main exhibitions. The exhibits are radical and work as a useful gauge for understanding what’s important in each country: decarbonisation, climate resilience, the reconstruction of Gaza, and an issue more prevalent in politics closer to home: gender wars. What's not to miss in the Giardini? British Pavilion (photography: Chris Lane) UK Pavilion The British Pavilion this year, which won a special mention from the Venetian jury, is housing a show by a British-Kenyan collab titled GBR – Geology of Britannic Repair. In it, the curators explore the links between colonialism, the built environment and geological extraction. Focusing on the Rift Valley, which runs from east Africa to the Middle East, including Palestine, the exhibition was curated by the Nairobi-based studio cave_bureau, UK-based curator, writer and Farrell Centre director Owen Hopkins and Queen Mary University professor Kathryn Yusoff. The pavilion’s façade is cloaked by a beaded veil of agricultural waste briquettes and clay and glass beads, produced in Kenya and India, echoing both Maasai practices and beads once made on Venice’s Murano, as currency for the exchange of metals, minerals and slaves. The pavilion’s six gallery spaces include multisensory installations such as the Earth Compass, a series of celestial maps connecting London and Nairobi; the Rift Room, tracing one of humans’ earliest migration routes; and the Shimoni Slave Cave, featuring a large-scale bronze cast of a valley cave historically used as a holding pen for enslaved people.Advertisement The show also includes Objects of Repair, a project by design-led research group Palestine Regeneration Team (PART), looking at how salvaged materials could help rebuild war-torn Gaza, the only exhibit anywhere in the Biennale that tackled the reconstruction of Gaza face-on – doing so impressively, both politically and sensitively. Read more here. Danish Pavilion (photography: Hampus Berndtson) Demark Pavilion A firm favourite by most this year, the Danish exhibition Build of Site, curated by Søren Pihlmann of Pihlmann Architects, transforms the pavilion, which requires renovation anyway, into both a renovation site and archive of materials. Clever, simple and very methodical, the building is being both renewed while at the same time showcasing innovative methods to reuse surplus materials uncovered during the construction process – as an alternative to using new resources to build a temporary exhibition. The renovation of the 1950s Peter Koch-designed section of the pavilion began in December 2024 and will be completed following the biennale, having been suspended for its duration. On display are archetypal elements including podiums, ramps, benches and tables – all constructed from the surplus materials unearthed during the renovation, such as wood, limestone, concrete, stone, sand, silt and clay. Belgian Pavilion (photography: Michiel De Cleene) Belgium Pavilion If you need a relaxing break from the intensity of the biennale, then the oldest national pavilion in the Giardini is the one for you. Belgium’s Building Biospheres: A New Alliance between Nature and Architecture brings ‘plant intelligence’ to the fore. Commissioned by the Flanders Architecture Institute and curated by landscape architect Bas Smets and neurobiologist Stefano Mancuso, the exhibit investigates how the natural ‘intelligence’ of plants can be used to produce an indoor climate – elevating the role of landscape design and calling for it to no longer serve as a backdrop for architecture. Inside, more than 200 plants occupy the central area beneath the skylight, becoming the pavilion’s centrepiece, with the rear space visualising ‘real-time’ data on the prototype’s climate control performance. Spanish Pavilion (photography: Luca Capuano) Spain Pavilion One for the pure architecture lovers out there, models (32!), installations, photographs and timber structures fill the Spanish Pavilion in abundance. Neatly curated by architects Roi Salgueiro Barrio and Manuel Bouzas Barcala, Internalities shows a series of existing and research projects that have contributed to decarbonising construction in Spain. The outcome? An extensive collection of work exploring the use of very local and very specific regenerative and low-carbon construction and materials – including stone, wood and soil. The joy of this pavilion comes from the 16 beautiful timber frames constructed from wood from communal forests in Galicia. Polish Pavilion (photography: Luca Capuano) Poland Pavilion Poland’s pavilion was like Marmite this year. Some loved its playful approach while others found it silly. Lares and Penates, taking its name from ancient Roman deities of protection, has been curated by Aleksandra Kędziorek and looks at what it means and takes to have a sense of security in architecture. Speaking to many different anxieties, it refers to the unspoken assumption of treating architecture as a safe haven against the elements, catastrophes and wars – showcasing and elevating the mundane solutions and signage derived from building, fire and health regulations. The highlight? An ornate niche decorated with tiles and stones just for … a fire extinguisher. Dutch Pavilion (photography: Cristiano Corte) Netherlands Pavilion Punchy and straight to the point, SIDELINED: A Space to Rethink Togetherness takes sports as a lens for looking at how spatial design can both reveal and disrupt the often-exclusionary dynamics of everyday environments. Within the pavilion, the exhibit looks beyond the large-scale arena of the stadium and gymnasium to investigate the more localised and intimate context of the sports bar, as well as three alternative sports – a site of both social production and identity formation – as a metaphor for uniting diverse communities. The pavilion-turned-sports bar, designed by Koos Breen and Jeannette Slütter and inspired by Asger Jorn’s three-sided sports field, is a space for fluidity and experimentation where binary oppositions, social hierarchies and cultural values are contested and reshaped – complete with jerseys and football scarfs (currently a must-have fashion item) worn by players in the alternative Anonymous Allyship aligning the walls. Read Derin Fadina’s review for the AJ here. Performance inside the Nordic Countries Pavilion (photography: Venla Helenius) Nordic Countries Pavilion Probably the most impactful national pavilion this year (and with the best tote bag by far), the Nordic Countries have presented an installation with performance work. Curated by Kaisa Karvinen, Industry Muscle: Five Scores for Architecture continues Finnish artist Teo Ala-Ruona’s work on trans embodiment and ecology by considering the trans body as a lens through which to examine modern architecture and the built environment. The three-day exhibition opening featured a two-hour performance each day with Ala-Ruona and his troupe crawling, climbing and writhing around the space, creating a bodily dialogue with the installations and pavilion building itself, which was designed by celebrated Modernist architect Sverre Fehn. The American pavilion next door, loudly (country music!) turns its back on what’s going on in its own country by just celebrating the apathetical porch, making the Nordic Countries seem even more relevant in this crucial time. Read Derin Fadina’s review for the AJ here. German Pavilion (photography: Luca Capuano) Germany Pavilion An exhibit certainly grabbing the issue of climate change by its neck is the German contribution, Stresstest. Curated by Nicola Borgmann, Elisabeth Endres, Gabriele G Kiefer and Daniele Santucci, the pavilion has turned climate change into a literal physical and psychological experience for visitors by creating contrasting ‘stress’ and ‘de-stress’ rooms. In the dark stress room, a large metal sculpture creates a cramped and hot space using heating mats hung from the ceiling and powered by PVs. Opposite is a calmer space demonstrating strategies that could be used to reduce the heat of cities, and between the two spaces is a film focusing on the impacts of cities becoming hotter. If this doesn’t highlight the urgency of the situation, I’m not sure what will. Best bits of the Arsenale outside the main exhibitions Bahrain Pavilion (photography: Andrea Avezzù) Bahrain Pavilion Overall winner of this year’s Golden Lion for best national participation, Bahrain’s pavilion in the historic Artiglierie of the Arsenale is a proposal for living and working through heat conditions. Heatwave, curated by architect Andrea Faraguna, reimagines public space design by exploring passive cooling strategies rooted in the Arab country’s climate, as well as cultural context. A geothermal well and solar chimney are connected through a thermo-hygrometric axis that links underground conditions with the air outside. The inhabitable space that hosts visitors is thus compressed and defined by its earth-covered floor and suspended ceiling, and is surrounded by memorable sandbags, highlighting its scalability for particularly hot construction sites in the Gulf where a huge amount of construction is taking place. In the Arsenale’s exhibition space, where excavation wasn’t feasible, this system has been adapted into mechanical ventilation, bringing in air from the canal side and channelling it through ductwork to create a microclimate. Slovenian Pavilion (photography: Andrea Avezzù) Slovenia Pavilion The AJ’s Rob Wilson’s top pavilion tip this year provides an enjoyable take on the theme of the main exhibition, highlighting how the tacit knowledge and on-site techniques and skills of construction workers and craftspeople are still the key constituent in architectural production despite all the heat and light about robotics, prefabrication, artificial intelligence and 3D printing. Master Builders, curated by Ana Kosi and Ognen Arsov and organised by the Museum of Architecture and Design (MAO) in Ljubljana, presents a series of ‘totems’ –accumulative sculpture-like structures that are formed of conglomerations of differently worked materials, finishes and building elements. These are stacked up into crazy tower forms, which showcase various on-site construction skills and techniques, their construction documented in accompanying films. Uzbekistan Pavilion (photography: Luca Capuano) Uzbekistan Pavilion Uzbekistan’s contribution explores the Soviet era solar furnace and Modernist legacy. Architecture studio GRACE, led by curators Ekaterina Golovatyuk and Giacomo Cantoni have curated A Matter of Radiance. The focus is the Sun Institute of Material Science – originally known as the Sun Heliocomplex – an incredible large-scale scientific structure built in 1987 on a natural, seismic-free foundation near Tashkent and one of only two that study material behaviour under extreme temperatures. The exhibition examines the solar oven’s site’s historical and contemporary significance while reflecting on its scientific legacy and influence moving beyond just national borders. Applied Arts Pavilion (photography: Andrea Avezzù) V&A Applied Arts Pavilion Diller Scofidio + Renfro (DS+R) is having a moment. The US-based practice, in collaboration with V&A chief curator Brendan Cormier, has curated On Storage, which aptly explores global storage architectures in a pavilion that strongly links to the V&A’s recent opening of Storehouse, its new (and free) collections archive in east London. Featured is a six-channel (and screen) film entitled Boxed: The Mild Boredom of Order, directed by the practice itself and following a toothbrush, as a metaphor for an everyday consumer product, on its journey through different forms of storage across the globe – from warehouse to distribution centre to baggage handlers down to the compact space of a suitcase. Also on display are large-format photographs of V&A East Storehouse, DS+R’s original architectural model and sketchbook and behind-the-scenes photography of Storehouse at work, taken by emerging east London-based photographers. Canal Café (photography: Marco Zorzanello) Canal café Golden Lion for the best participation in the actual exhibition went to Canal Café, an intervention designed by V&A East Storehouse’s architect DS+R with Natural Systems Utilities, SODAI, Aaron Betsky and Davide Oldani. Serving up canal-water espresso, the installation is a demonstration of how Venice itself can be a laboratory to understand how to live on the water in a time of water scarcity. The structure, located on the edge of the Arsenale’s building complex, draws water from its lagoon before filtering it onsite via a hybrid of natural and artificial methods, including a mini wetland with grasses. The project was recognised for its persistence, having started almost 20 years ago, just showing how water scarcity, contamination and flooding are still major concerns both globally and, more locally, in the tourist-heavy city of Venice. And what else? Holy See Pavilion (photography: Andrea Avezzù) The Holy See Much like the Danish Pavilion, the Pavilion of the Holy See is also taking on an approach of renewal this year. Over the next six months, Opera Aperta will breathe new life into the Santa Maria Ausiliatrice Complex in the Castello district of Venice. Founded as a hospice for pilgrims in 1171, the building later became the oldest hospital and was converted into school in the 18th century. In 2001, the City of Venice allocated it for cultural use and for the next four years it will be managed by the Dicastery for Culture and Education of the Holy See to oversee its restoration. Curated by architect, curator and researcher Marina Otero Verzier and artistic director of Fondaco Italia, Giovanna Zabotti, the complex has been turned into a constant ‘living laboratory’ of collective repair – and received a special mention in the biennale awards. The restoration works, open from Tuesday to Friday, are being carried out by local artisans and specialised restorers with expertise in recovering stone, marble, terracotta, mural and canvas painting, stucco, wood and metal artworks. The beauty, however, lies in the photogenic fabrics, lit by a warm yellow glow, hanging from the walls within, gently wrapping the building’s surfaces, leaving openings that allow movement and offer glimpses of the ongoing restoration. Mobile scaffolding, used to support the works, also doubles up as furniture, providing space for equipment and subdividing the interior. Togo Pavilion (photography: Andrea Avezzù) Togo Pavilion The Republic of Togo has presented its first pavilion ever at the biennale this year with the project Considering Togo’s Architectural Heritage, which sits intriguingly at the back of a second-hand furniture shop. The inaugural pavilion is curated by Lomé and Berlin-based Studio NEiDA and is in Venice’s Squero Castello. Exploring Togo’s architectural narratives from the early 20th century, and key ongoing restoration efforts, it documents key examples of the west African country’s heritage, highlighting both traditional and more modern building techniques – from Nôk cave dwellings to Afro-Brazilian architecture developed by freed slaves to post-independence Modernist buildings. Some buildings showcased are in disrepair, despite most of the modern structures remaining in use today, including Hotel de la Paix and the Bourse du Travail, suggestive of a future of repair and celebration. Estonian Pavilion (photography: Joosep Kivimäe) Estonia Pavilion Another firm favourite this year is the Estonian exhibition on Riva dei Sette Martiri on the waterfront between Corso Garibaldi and the Giardini.  The Guardian’s Olly Wainwright said that outside the Giardini, it packed ‘the most powerful punch of all.’ Simple and effective, Let Me Warm You, curated by trio of architects Keiti Lige, Elina Liiva and Helena Männa, asks whether current insulation-driven renovations are merely a ‘checkbox’ to meet European energy targets or ‘a real chance’ to enhance the spatial and social quality of mass housing. The façade of the historic Venetian palazzetto in which it is housed is clad with fibre-cement insulation panels in the same process used in Estonia itself for its mass housing – a powerful visual statement showcasing a problematic disregard for the character and potential of typical habitable spaces. Inside, the ground floor is wrapped in plastic and exhibits how the dynamics between different stakeholders influence spatial solutions, including named stickers to encourage discussion among your peers. Venice Procuratie (photography: Mike Merkenschlager) SMAC (San Marco Art Centre) Timed to open to the public at the same time as the biennale, SMAC is a new permanent arts institution in Piazza San Marco, on the second floor of the Procuratie, which is owned by Generali. The exhibition space, open to the public for the first time in 500 years, comprises 16 galleries arranged along a continuous corridor stretching over 80m, recently restored by David Chipperfield Architects. Visitors can expect access through a private courtyard leading on to a monumental staircase and experience a typically sensitive Chipperfield restoration, which has revived the building’s original details: walls covered in a light grey Venetian marmorino made from crushed marble and floors of white terrazzo. During the summer, its inaugural programme features two solo exhibitions dedicated to Australian modern architect Harry Seidler and Korean landscape designer Jung Youngsun. Holcim's installation (photography: Celestia Studio) Holcim x Elemental Concrete manufacturer Holcim makes an appearance for a third time at Venice, this time partnering with Chilean Pritzker Prize-winning Alejandro Aravena’s practice Elemental – curator of the 2016 biennale – to launch a resilient housing prototype that follows on from the Norman Foster-designed Essential Homes Project. The ‘carbon-neutral’ structure incorporates Holcim’s range of low-carbon concrete ECOPact and is on display as part of the Time Space Existence exhibition organised by the European Cultural Centre in their gardens. It also applies Holcim’s ‘biochar’ technology for the first time, a concrete mix with 100 per cent recycled aggregates, in a full-scale Basic Services Unit. This follows an incremental design approach, which could entail fast and efficient construction via the provision of only essential housing components, and via self-build. The Next Earth at Palazzo Diedo (photography: Joan Porcel) The Next Earth At Palazzo Diedo’s incredible dedicated Berggruen Arts and Culture space, MIT’s department of architecture and think tank Antikythera (apparently taking its name from the first-known computer) have come together to create the exhibition The Next Earth: Computation, Crisis, Cosmology, which questions how philosophy and architecture must and can respond to various planet-wide crises. Antikythera’s The Noocene: Computation and Cosmology from Antikythera to AI looks at the evolution of ‘planetary computation’ as an ‘accidental’ megastructure through which systems, from the molecular to atmospheric scales, become both comprehensible and composable. What is actually on display is an architectural scale video monolith and short films on AI, astronomy and artificial life, as well as selected artefacts. MIT’s Climate Work: Un/Worlding the Planet features 37 works-in-progress, each looking at material supply chains, energy expenditure, modes of practice and deep-time perspectives. Take from it what you will. The 19th International Venice Architecture Biennale remains open until Sunday, 23 November 2025.

Study the Secrets of Early American Photography at This New Exhibition “The New Art: American Photography, 1839-1910” at the Metropolitan Museum of Art will feature more than 250 photographs Lillian Ali - Staff Contributor June 6, 2025 This image, taken by an unknown photographer in 1905, is an example of a cyanotype. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, William L. Schaeffer Collection A new exhibition at the crossroads of art, history and technology chronicles the beginnings of early American photography. Titled “The New Art: American Photography, 1839-1910,” the show at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City features more than 250 photographs that capture “the complexities of a nation in the midst of profound transformation,” says Max Hollein, the Met’s CEO, in a statement. Curator Jeff Rosenheim tells the Wall Street Journal’s William Meyers that the exhibition focuses “on how early artists used the different formats to record individuals and the built and natural environments surrounding them.” A daguerrotype from around 1850 depicts a woman wearing a tignon, a headcovering popular among Creole women of African descent. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, William L. Schaeffer Collection The oldest photographs on display are daguerreotypes, named for inventor Louis Daguerre, which were introduced in 1839 as the first publicly available form of photography. Creating a daguerreotype was a delicate, sometimes painstaking process that involved several chemical treatments and variable exposure times. The process yielded a sharply detailed picture on a silver background and was usually used for studio portraiture. The exhibition moves through the history of photography, from daguerreotypes and other photographs made on metal to those made on glass and, eventually, paper. It even features stereographs, two photos showing an object from slightly different points of view, creating an illusion of three-dimensionality. Installation view of "The New Art: American Photography, 1839-1910" Eugenia Tinsely / The Met Rosenheim believes that early photographic portraits empowered working-class Americans. “Photographic portraits play a role in people feeling like they could be a citizen,” Rosenheim tells the Guardian’s Veronica Esposito. “It’s a psychological, empowering thing to own your own likeness.” Photographs in the exhibition also spotlight key moments in American history. Items on view include a portrait of formerly enslaved individuals and an image of a conspirator in the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. The exhibition features big names in American photography, such as John Moran, who advocated for the recognition of photography as an art form, and Alice Austen, a pioneering landscape photographer. Group on Petria, Lake Mahopac​​​​​​, photographed in 1888 by Alice Austen The Metropolitan Museum of Art, William L. Schaeffer Collection Many of the photographs on display were taken by unknown artists. One of the most recent photos in the exhibition, taken by an unknown artist in 1905, is a cyanotype depicting figures tobogganing on a hill in Massachusetts. Cyanotypes were created by exposing a chemically treated paper to UV light, such as sunlight, yielding the blue pigment it was named for. Beyond portraits and landscapes, the exhibition features several enigmatic images, such as one of a boot placed in a roller skate and positioned on top of a stool. Rosenheim tells the Guardian that the mysterious photo “asks more questions than it answers.” An unknown photographer took this unconventional still life in the 1860s. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, William L. Schaeffer Collection “It’s very emblematic of the whole of 19th-century American photography,” he adds. The exhibition features photographs from across time and economic divides, with portraits of the working-class and wealthy alike. “The collection is just filled with the everyday stories of people,” Rosenheim tells the Guardian. “I don’t think painting can touch that.” “The New Art: American Photography, 1839-1910” is on view at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City through July 20, 2025. Get the latest stories in your inbox every weekday.

“Is that concrete all around, or is it in my head?” asked Ian Hunter in “All the Young Dudes,” the song David Bowie wrote for Mott the Hoople in 1972. Concrete is all around us, and we haven’t quite wrapped our heads around it. It’s one of the indispensable materials of modernity; as we try to decarbonize the built environment, it’s part of the problem, and innovations in its composition may become part of the solution. Understanding its history more clearly, the Skyscraper Museum’s new exhibition in Manhattan implies, just might help us employ it better. Concrete is “the second most used substance in the world, after water,” the museum’s founder/director/curator Carol Willis told AN during a recent visit. For plasticity, versatility, and compressive strength, reinforced concrete is hard to beat, though its performance is more problematic when assessed by the metric of embodied and operational carbon, a consideration the exhibition acknowledges up front. In tall construction, concrete has become nearly hegemonic, yet its central role, contend Willis and co-curator Thomas Leslie, formerly of Foster + Partners and now a professor at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, is underrecognized by the public and by mainstream architectural history. The current exhibition aims to change that perception. The Skyscraper Museum in Lower Manhattan features an exhibition, The Modern Concrete Skyscraper, which examines the history of material choices in building tall towers. (Courtesy the Skyscraper Museum) The Modern Concrete Skyscraper examines the history of tall towers’ structural material choices, describing a transition from the early dominance of steel frames to the contemporary condition, in which most large buildings rely on concrete. This change did not happen instantly or for any single reason but through a combination of technical and economic factors, including innovations by various specialists, well-recognized and otherwise; the availability of high-quality limestone deposits near Chicago; and the differential development of materials industries in nations whose architecture grew prominent in recent decades. As supertalls reach ever higher—in the global race for official height rankings by the Council on Tall Buildings and Urban Habitat (CTBUH) and national, corporate, or professional bragging rights—concrete’s dominance may not be permanent in that sector, given the challenge of pumping the material beyond a certain height. (The 2,717-foot Burj Khalifa, formerly Burj Dubai, uses concrete up to 1,987 and steel above that point; Willis quotes SOM’s William Baker describing it as “the tallest steel building with a concrete foundation of 156 stories.”) For the moment, however, concrete is ahead of its chief competitors, steel and (on a smaller scale) timber. Regardless of possible promotional inferences, Willis said, “we did not work with the industry in any way for this exhibition.” “The invention of steel and the grid of steel and the skeleton frame is only the first chapter of the history of the skyscraper,” Willis explained. “The second chapter, and the one that we’re in now, is concrete. Surprisingly, no one had ever told that story of the skyscraper today with a continuous narrative.” The exhibition traces the use of concrete back to the ancient Roman combination of aggregate and pozzolana—the chemical formula for which was “largely lost with the fall of the Roman Empire,” though some Byzantine and medieval structures approximated it. From there, the show explores comparable materials’ revival in 18th-century England, the patenting of Portland cement by Leeds builder Joseph Aspdin in 1824, the proof-of-concept concrete house by François Coignet in 1856, and the pivotal development of rebar in the mid-19th century, with overdue attention to Ernest Ransome’s 1903 Ingalls Building in Cincinnati, then the world’s tallest concrete building at 15 stories and arguably the first concrete skyscraper. The exhibition includes a timeline that depicts concrete’s origins in Rome to its contemporary use in skyscraper construction. (Courtesy the Skyscraper Museum) Baker’s lectures, Willis reported, sometimes pose a deceptively simple question: “‘What is a skyscraper?’ In 1974, when the World Trade Center and Sears Tower are just finished, you would say it’s a very tall building that is built of steel, an office building in North America. But if you ask that same question today, the answer is: It’s a building that is mixed-use, constructed of concrete, and [located] in Asia or the Middle East.” The exhibition organizes the history of concrete towers by eras of engineering innovation, devoting special attention to the 19th- and early-20th-century “patent era” of Claude Allen Porter Turner (pioneer in flat-slab flooring and mushroom columns) and Henry Chandlee Turner (founder of Turner Construction), Ransome (who patented twisted-iron rebar), and François Hennebique (known for the re-inforced concrete system exemplified by Liverpool’s Royal Liver Building, the world’s tallest concrete office building when completed in 1911). In the postwar era, “concrete comes out onto the surface [as] both a structural material and aesthetic.” Brutalism, perhaps to some observers’ surprise, “does not figure very large in high-rise design,” Willis said, except for Paul Rudolph’s Tracey Towers in the Bronx. The exhibition, however, devotes considerable attention to the work of Pier Luigi Nervi, Bertrand Goldberg (particularly Marina City), and SOM’s Fazlur Khan, pioneer of the structural tube system in the 1960s and 1970s—followed by the postmodernist 1980s, when concrete could express either engineering values or ornamentation. The exhibition highlights a number of concrete towers, including Paul Rudolph’s Tracey Towers in the Bronx. (Courtesy the Skyscraper Museum) “In the ’90s, there were material advances in engineering analysis and computerization that helped to predict performance, and so buildings can get taller and taller,” Willis said. The current era, if one looks to CTBUH rankings, is dominated by the supertalls seen in Dubai, Shanghai, and Kuala Lumpur, after the Petronas Towers (1998) “took the title of world’s tallest building from North America for the first time and traumatized everybody about that.” The previous record holder, Chicago’s Sears (now Willis) Tower, comprised steel structural tubes on concrete caissons; with Petronas, headquarters of Malaysia’s national petroleum company of that name, a strong concrete industry was represented but a strong national steel industry was lacking, and as Willis frequently says, form follows finances. In any event, by the ’90s concrete was already becoming the standard material for supertalls, particularly on soft-soiled sites like Shanghai, where its water resistance and compressive strength are well suited to foundation construction. Its plasticity is also well suited to complex forms like the triangular Burj, Kuala Lumpur’s Merdeka 118, and (if eventually completed) the even taller Jeddah Tower, designed to “confuse the wind,” shed vortices, and manage wind forces. Posing the same question Louis Kahn asked about the intentions of a brick, Willis said, with concrete “the answer is: anything you want.” The exhibition is front-loaded with scholarly material, presenting eight succinct yet informative wall texts on the timeline of concrete construction. The explanatory material is accompanied by ample photographs as well as structural models on loan from SOM, Pelli Clarke & Partners, and other firms. Some materials are repurposed from the museum’s previous shows, particularly Supertall! (2011–12) and Sky High and the Logic of Luxury (2013–14). The models allow close examination of the Burj Khalifa, Petronas Towers, Jin Mao Tower, Merdeka 118, and others, including two unbuilt Chicago projects that would have exceeded 2,000 feet: the Miglin-Beitler Skyneedle (Cesar Pelli/Thornton Tomasetti) and 7 South Dearborn (SOM). The Burj, Willis noted, was all structure and no facade for a time: When its curtain-wall manufacturer, Schmidlin, went bankrupt in 2006, it “ended up going to 100 stories without having a stitch of glass on it,” temporarily becoming a “1:1 scale model of the structural system up to 100 stories.” Its prominence justifies its appearance here in two models, including one from RWDI’s wind-tunnel studies. Eero Saarinen’s only skyscraper, built for CBS in 1965 and also known as “Black Rock,” under construction in New York City. (Courtesy Eero Saarinen Collection, Manuscripts, and Archives, Yale University Library) The exhibition opened in March, with plans to stay up at least through October (Willis prefers to keep the date flexible), with accompanying lectures and panels to be announced on the museum’s website (skyscraper.org). Though the exhibition’s full textual and graphic content is available online, the physical models alone are worth a trip to the Battery Park City headquarters. Intriguing questions arise from the exhibition without easy answers, setting the table for lively discussion and debate. One is whether the patenting of innovations like Ransome bar and the Système Hennebique incentivized technological progress or hindered useful technology transfer. Willis speculated, “Did the fact that there were inventions and patents mean that competition was discouraged, that the competition was only in the realm of business, rather than advancing the material?” A critical question is whether research into the chemistry of concrete, including MIT’s 2023 report on the self-healing properties of Roman pozzolana and proliferating claims about “green concrete” using alternatives to Portland cement, can lead to new types of the material with improved durability and lower emissions footprints. This exhibition provides a firm foundation in concrete’s fascinating history, opening space for informed speculation about its future. Bill Millard is a regular contributor to AN.

html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40/loose.dtd" The São Paulo International Architecture Biennale is one of the most important venues for the promotion and discussion of Brazilian architectural culture. Its history begins in 1951, when it was part of the São Paulo Art Biennale as the International Architecture Exhibition. There were eleven editions between 1951 and 1971. Under 1973, the first BIAsp under the current format was conducted. Over two million individuals are thought to have attended the 13 biennales since then; certain editions, such as the 12th, had over 300,000 guests.This year, the 14th São Paulo International Architecture Biennale will take place from September 18 to October 19, 2025, at the Oca Pavilion in Ibirapuera Park, an iconic building designed by Oscar Niemeyer.The curatorial proposal is "Extremes: Architectures for an Overheated Planet", emphasizing the problem of climate extremes. The point of no return challenges us to reconsider how we live on Earth, looking for solutions not just in production studies and scientific discoveries but also in the knowledge of Indigenous villages, quilombos (traditional communities of enslaved people who have escaped), and urban peripheries. By offering tangible solutions to global warming and methods for adjusting to the extreme occurrences we are already seeing, the Biennale will act as a meeting place for various knowledge systems.The 14th BIAsp's curators have identified five thematic axes that will direct the event's talks, ideas, and proposals, drawing inspiration from the IPCC's (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) findings, especially the AR6 report:–Preserving Forests and Reforesting Cities–Embracing Water–Refurbishing More and Building Green–Moving and Reaching Places Together with Renewable Energies–Ensuring Climate Justice and Social HousingSix architects—Renato Anelli, Karina de Souza, Marcos Cereto, Clevio Rabelo, Marcella Arruda, and Jerá Guarani—are part of the collective curatorship for the 14th BIAsp this year. Through their professional activities, they represent many regional contexts throughout Brazil.The top image in the article courtesy of São Paulo International Architecture Biennale.> via São Paulo International Architecture Biennale