What does it take to be a leader and recognised year on year? In short, it is a testament to customer trust, of continued innovation and leadership in delivering future-ready network solutions. For any company to be successf

FORM Brands Studio has given London’s Air Ambulance Charity a new look. Rather than transporting patients to hospital, the charity’s doctors and paramedics treat seriously injured people at the scene from its two helicopters and eight cars. It is the only organisation performing this role in London. Established in 1989, it is called to a rising number of patients across the capital every year, helping more than 2,000 people in 2024. London’s Air Ambulance Charity (LAAC) needs £17m a year to operate, 96% which comes from donations. “But 60% of Londoners don’t know we’re a charity,” says LAAC’s director of fundraising and marketing, Jayne Clarke. FORM Brands Studio identity for London’s Air Ambulance Charity in OOH posters Its new organisational strategy is about raising awareness, enhancing fundraising efforts and strengthening its connection with London’s communities. “We’re trying to make sure the strategy is about hope and looking forward to the future,” Clarke says. To accompany this new strategy, the charity also decided to change up its visual identity. “Our previous branding was very corporate,” Clarke admits.FORM Brands Studio won the job after a pitch. Strategy director Beth Andlaw set up the east London agency in 2022 with creative director Alex Andlaw. Before that she had been in comms and PR, and had worked with LAAC on and off for about 20 years. FORM Brands Studio identity for London’s Air Ambulance Charity on stage FORM introduced a new wordmark, colour palette, typeface, icons, motion, creative copy, messaging, fundraising memorabilia and photography. However, the existing helicopter icon was retained. “It has a lot of love and legacy,” says Clarke. The agency’s brand idea, Propelling Promise, was inspired by the urgent, intense nature of the work carried out by LAAC’s clinical and operational crews. That was used to give structure to creative copy lines and the new tone of voice. Each lead line includes an element of “propelling” to imply urgency and momentum, and “promise” to imply warmth and hope. That resulted in lines including “Trauma doesn’t stop. Neither do we” and “Here for London. Today, tomorrow, always.” FORM brought in Peggy Nyamekye to work on the copywriting. Meanwhile, the visual identity, developed with designer Mayan Mistry, comprises a gradient design system, drawing on the rotational motion of helicopter blades. Borough names are repeated in radiating patterns and overlaid with the gradient. Red is still central to the charity’s identity, but FORM introduced the vivid orange worn by medics on-scene. “These colours blend in the gradient, creating a visual signature that speaks to urgency, action, optimism and hope,” says Alex Andlaw. https://d3faj0w6aqatyx.cloudfront.net/uploads/2025/06/LAA_OOH_TUBE_1920x1080.mp4 With the help of motion graphics designer Matt Fowler, the agency introduced movement to the branding, to reflect the aircraft’s blades in flight. The logo’s new wordmark is in Barlow, inspired by the existing big white lettering on the helicopter tail booms. Before, the charity’s name was written lower case in a thinner font. “Now it’s bigger, bolder and more impactful,” says Alex Andlaw. FORM also redesigned the icons to have more personality but still be functional. “The icons help the team talk about quite hard subjects,” he says, such as casualties, and the designs had to balance warmth and realism. “We did quite a few hearts, some look too detailed and some too basic,” he explains. The agency also created a series of collectible badges, inspired by the embroidered badges worn by the charity’s doctors and pilots.FORM Brands Studio identity for London’s Air Ambulance Charity in Instagram posts Meanwhile, photographer James Pearson-Howes was briefed to capture real people, places and moments from across London. The new branding had to resonate with very different types of donors, from the charity’s collection buckets to seven-figure corporate donations, says Clarke. “And the doctors wearing the brand have very strong opinions, as do the pilots. FORM took in all these views and managed to make all those people happy.” https://d3faj0w6aqatyx.cloudfront.net/uploads/2025/06/LAA_OOH_BILLBOARD_1920x1080.mp4 FORM Brands Studio identity for London’s Air Ambulance Charity FORM Brands Studio identity for London’s Air Ambulance Charity in OOH posters

With reclaimed land previously allocated to cars, the Grijalva River boardwalk offers generous public spaces and reconnects the Mexican city of Villahermosa to its river In Villahermosa, nature reigns supreme. Surrounded by rivers, lagoons, wild vegetation and the scorching heat of a humid tropical climate, the city’s identity is shaped by intense and unpredictable natural forces. The capital of the Mexican state of Tabasco was founded in 1564 on the banks of the Grijalva River, a vital trade route that has significantly shaped the city’s development. For locals, the river has long been both blessing and threat; major floods have been recorded since the 17th century. A devastating flood in 2007 submerged what officials estimated to be 80 per cent of the city, damaging or destroying more than 120,000 homes. In the aftermath of the inundation, high concrete retaining walls were built along both banks of the Grijalva River to prevent further flooding. While this was an understandable measure at first glance, it consequently caused residents to lose both their visual and physical connection with the river. As a result, people moved, particularly from the western bank where the historical centre is located, to new areas further away from the Grijalva River. The riverfront was left to deteriorate into a troubled zone. On the eastern bank, the neighbourhood of Gaviotas was already considered unsafe before the flood, yet it maintained more of its residential character. In 2022, 15 years after the dramatic flood, then‑president Andrés Manuel López Obrador, more commonly known as AMLO, announced the construction of a new 6km‑long riverfront promenade in Villahermosa, the capital of his home state. The idea was to enable the population to once again take pride in and live with their river, looking to Paris and Rome as examples. The monumental task, with its large urban scale and the population’s psychological trauma, was entrusted to the Ministry of Agricultural, Territorial and Urban Development (SEDATU) as part of their Programa de Mejoramiento Urbano (Urban Improvement Programme, or PMU). This programme aimed to use architecture as an ‘instrument of social transformation’. High expectations were placed on these projects; architects were asked to create ‘places of national pride’ while improving everyday living conditions. The architectural trio of Alejandro Castro Jiménez Labora, Mauricio Rocha Iturbide, and Óscar Rodríguez Castañeda, along with their teams, were commissioned to design a linear park along both banks of the Grijalva. Each architect contributed their strength: Castro brought his expertise in poetic urban furniture; Rocha his sensitive and atmospheric architectural approach; and Rodríguez his thoughtful urban and traffic planning skills. The SEDATU team provided technical and participatory expertise, enabling contextual sensitivity by sharing essential information about the site’s topography, soil conditions and water flows. From the city’s existing observatory, the Torre del Caballero landmark, visitors enjoy an excellent view over the redesigned riverbanks. The historical centre and the Gaviotas neighbourhood now form a single ensemble, while the intervention carefully responds to the different conditions found along the length of the river. The project’s main objective is to reclaim some of the land previously allocated to cars and create a promenade for pedestrians and slower vehicles, punctuated with public spaces and facilities. On both sides of the river, cars are now limited to just one or two grey asphalt lanes. Running alongside are generous cycle paths and pedestrian walkways made of earth‑coloured concrete. Speed bumps in the same material and colour connect the pavements on either side of the road while helping to limit traffic speed to 30km/h, further enhancing pedestrian safety. Several design elements are found along almost the entire promenade. A ribbon of light‑grey benches delineates the edge of the elevated riverfront; stone walls, steps and ramps are used to negotiate the slight changes in level; planters and lush vegetation soften the transition to the walkways, creating a welcome buffer from street traffic. The most visually striking components are the tall, red‑pigmented concrete light poles on the elevated path, adorned with elegant L‑shaped steel light fixtures, which establish a strong and cohesive visual rhythm. Only upon closer inspection you notice the 2007 retaining walls peeking through the dense tropical vegetation. Removing these unattractive concrete barriers was never an option; they stand as a symbol of successful flood protection for the local population. The architectural team ingeniously built the elevated promenade atop the existing wall – an effective concealment from the street side while simultaneously inviting residents to reconnect with the Grijalva.  At the foot of the observatory, directly below the retaining wall, the earth‑toned concrete platforms of the Carlos A Madrazo Becerra Park stretch towards the river. Visitors can access the park via a ramp from the promenade on the western bank or by ferry from the opposite side. In the park, concrete furnishings invite visitors to linger among tropical vegetation set against tall natural stone walls. Importantly, it is a space that is durable and requires minimal maintenance – a survival formula for public parks in the Mexican context. Small traces on the concrete benches reveal that the park weathered its baptism of fire last year: the design accommodates the river’s natural dynamics, adapting to fluctuating water levels without compromising public safety. Beyond providing much‑needed shade, the extensive planting of native, low‑maintenance plants on both riverbanks has improved soil stability. Above the park, on a broad extension of the elevated pathway, stand three long, elegant buildings with large cantilevered roofs supported by hefty beams resting on distinctive double columns. The tall glass walls that enclose the interiors are set back, creating a visual flow between interior and exterior spaces. While the beams evoke timber construction, they – like the columns – are made of the same pigmented concrete used for the promenade paving. Despite their refined composition, these structures have remained largely unused since their completion over a year ago, neither serving their intended function as restaurants nor hosting alternative uses. Even the beautifully designed park sees only limited public engagement. The ambitious goal of SEDATU with the PMU projects to ‘counteract violence and strengthen the social fabric’ appears, for now, to have fallen short in this area. According to national statistics, Villahermosa ranks first in perceived insecurity among Mexican cities. This sense of insecurity is tangible on the promenade by the city centre, where buildings that look abandoned contribute to an atmosphere of neglect. The situation is markedly different on the opposite riverbank, in the Gaviotas neighbourhood. Construction of the 3.5km promenade on this side began in 2021 with three open pavilions housing several small kiosks, which quickly evolved into popular taco stands. The Plaza Solidaridad, revitalised by the architectural trio, draws people from the surrounding vibrant neighbourhood. Further south, the final section that was built is a large sports area and children’s playground, which were embraced by the local community even before their official inauguration in February 2024. Especially after sunset, when the air cools, the well‑lit Gaviotas riverfront comes to life. During daylight hours, however, air‑conditioned shopping centres remain the preferred gathering places for the residents of Villahermosa. Rocha describes the city’s new promenade as a ‘jazz composition’, a striking metaphor that speaks of rhythmic complexity and the freedom to improvise. With just a few designed elements and carefully selected colours, the architects have harmoniously layered the river’s urban spaces. The project is earning international recognition but, in Mexico, it faced sharp criticism and was overshadowed by accusations of nepotism. Castro is a friend of AMLO’s son, and the fact that the intervention took place in the home state of the then‑president, coupled with its substantial budget by local standards, drew considerable attention. According to residents, this undermined public acceptance. When asked about the negative press, Rocha speaks of the need to develop a ‘crisis muscle’; he says architects working on public projects in Mexico must ‘let go of perfectionism’ as much lies beyond their control.  During AMLO’s six‑year term, which ended in 2024, SEDATU implemented 1,300 PMU projects in 193 highly marginalised municipalities across the country. While many of these interventions undoubtedly improved people’s quality of life, the Villahermosa riverside project also reveals architecture’s limitations, exposing some of the programme’s weaknesses: architectural interventions often act as sticking plasters on an extensively damaged urban fabric. They are handed over from a national ministry with comprehensive expertise and funding to local governments lacking the means to sustain them. Although SEDATU conducted participatory consultations during the project’s implementation, this engagement was absent once the project was completed. Public acceptance and appropriation can take time; what this project does is send an invitation out. 2025-06-05 Reuben J Brown Share AR June 2025RoadsBuy Now

Ahead of WWDC next week, Apple has shared new data on the adoption rates of iOS 18 and iPadOS 18. The company reports that iOS 18 is now installed on 88% of devices introduced in the last four years, while iPadOS 18 is installed on 81% of devices int

One retailer says it's the "biggest gaming pre-order ever" - but there questions over whether high prices will dent sales.

5 June, 2025 In this series, Clare Dowdy speaks with design studios that are 30+ years old, to find out some of the secrets behind their longevity. Michael Johnson set up his London-based brand consultancy Johnson Banks in 1992. From Duolingo to Pink Floyd, Cancer Research UK to the Royal Astronomical Society, the studio works with “people who want to do big things.” He sat down with Clare Dowdy to discuss what he’s learned over the past 33 years. Michael Johnson How did Johnson Banks come about? My 20s were very turbulent: eight jobs in eight years, a lot of different countries, different cities, learning on the job. My last job – at Smith & Milton – was relatively settled, I was kind of running a corporate design department. I had a client there, Tom Banks. After I left, he also left his role at Legal & General with the projects I had been working on, and we used that as a basis for the company. That was 1992, the back end of a recession. For a couple of years, everything was fine. Then we started having “creative differences.” And the pressures of running a tiny design company are substantial. So we parted ways in 1995, but I kept the name. Johnson Banks’ symbol for the V&A’s William Morris show At that time, we weren’t really in the branding world. For a decade, we were very distracted by getting on the graphic design map, trying to win D&AD awards, doing lovely stamp projects. And then we started to get some cultural projects: the V&A and the British Council. I started to think, OK, now we’re beginning to show what we can do. When and why did you start thinking seriously about your strategy offering? When we started to get into the branding arena, I knew we were underpowered in terms of the strategic thinking. I may have thought that I could do it, but it takes a bit to persuade clients when you’re 35, with hair almost down to your knees. If you’re up against important-looking people who can field a few grey hairs, you’re going to lose that pitch. So we partnered with strategic companies like management consultancy Circus, and followed that model for much of the 2000s. That led to the Shelter rebrand, and a few other quite big branding projects followed. Johnson Banks’ visual identity for Shelter Eventually we realised that we could do the strategy ourselves. I had sometimes been a little frustrated by the work that my strategic partners – naming no names – were doing. It sounds a bit mean, but sometimes I would get this 90-page PowerPoint document from them, and I’d put it on my designers’ desks, and their faces would go blank. I think that 20 years ago, there was still a bit of the idea that you’ve paid £100,000, so here’s your huge document. We slowly realised that if we were in control of the process, and were involved all the way through, then that jump out of the verbal brand to the visual brand could be much better managed. How did you rethink your strategy offer? The penny dropped in the mid-2000s when we worked with Save The Children. At the time, and I don’t think they’d mind me saying this, Save The Children were a bit of a basket case. They were associated with WI fairs and cake baking, and they had a royal as their patron – they were nothing like what they are now. I realised we needed to work out what they stood for before we did any design. I did this huge chart, and stuck it on a wall at the client’s office. And I said, it strikes me that there are strategic choices that you have got to make as a comms team about where you want to take the Save the Children brand. Johnson Banks’ poster for Save the Children That was an incredibly productive meeting, and also it helped us realise that before we got anywhere near the design, we needed to sort this out. I know that sounds like really basic stuff now. I didn’t trust my instinct for a decade or so, but in that Save the Children meeting, a light bulb went on for me. Once you’d worked out how to do strategy in-house why didn’t you scale up? A lot of companies would have done that. That’s how companies grow, and can end up quite quickly at 60 people. We have nearly always been around six to eight people. Because I could bridge that gap between the verbal and the visual, it meant we didn’t need to add people. And I’ve discovered over the last 25 years, that with a really good account director, Katherine Heaton, and me, and a design team, there is a heck of a lot that we can do. So we stayed small and partnered with filmmakers, animators, cultural specialists. Post-pandemic, a lot of people have adopted that hub and spoke model – we did it 20 years ago. Probably twice a year we’ll lose a pitch because of our scale. But conversely, with some clients you can sell in the fact that they’ll always deal with Michael Johnson. They’re not going to be handed down the chain, because there is no chain. Johnson Banks’ logos for Jodrell Bank Alongside this direct contact with you, what’s your main selling point? It seems to be that we think pretty hard about stuff. We almost never jump into design. A lot of thought goes into what we do, sometimes way too much. Sometimes our projects are incredibly difficult, gargantuan, intertwined and really hard to unpick. That’s a slightly poisoned chalice, because then people go, gosh, well, if they could unpick that, then they could unpick our Gordian knot. For example, we’re working on a major London university brand at the moment that has over 60,000 staff and students, 11 faculties, and hundreds of centres and institutes and departments, and we’re trying to navigate a way through. How did you work out what you wanted to specialise in? Sometimes you can get sucked into something that you just don’t want to be doing. By the end of the 1990s, Johnson Banks had got a reputation for doing annual reports. Part of me quite liked doing them because there was an interplay between words and pictures. And we were getting senior level access to clients, which makes you feel a bit better, because you’re having an interface with chief executives. But then I was thinking, hang on, we’re in danger of getting stuck here, because of course, they’re cyclical. And the death of the annual report – and the death of print – was coming over the horizon, with the internet. Johnson Banks’ Annual Report for Polygram (1995) Since then, my interests have changed. I do not have any interest any more in doing awful blue chips or terrible fintechs. I want to apply all the comms and the branding that I’ve learned to people who could really use it – not-for-profit, culture, education, philanthropy. You know, doing good. How did you build up this not-for-profit work? You lean into the referrals you’ll inevitably get within silos where you want to be referred. I learned this from Mary Lewis of Lewis Moberly. We were pretty close in the 1990s and she always said that referral business is the best business. Over 85% of our clients are not-for-profit – most design companies have a 20-80 split between non-profits and commercial clients. I never liked that ratio, what you might cruelly call ‘the Robin Hood principle’ – we are going to steal from our luxury car account and give to the charity. We did do a bit of that for a while. We did an airline in 2009/10 at the same time we were doing charities. I would justify that with the Robin Hood principle, but I just felt more and more uncomfortable with that. Johnson Banks’ campaign visuals for Cancer Research UK As our percentages went up and up in not-for-profit, eventually I said, look, we should just tell people this is who we are, and this is what we do. It was obvious anyway, so let’s be explicit about it. A few people said we were crazy, that we’d never get any work. But the reverse has been the case. We’re on our sixth environmental project. If you say this is what we want to do, and this is what we will do for you, then I think, funnily enough, clients find that very helpful. How did you build up to bigger projects? Let’s take education. We’ve done three or four really interesting campaigns for universities and now we’re in the position where we can do university rebrands, and have won a top 10 global university. But it has taken 15 years of education work to get to that point. I may not have thought that it would take quite so long to persuade people that we could do their identity. But education is a very conservative sector, and moves slowly, like museums and galleries. If you’re small, you can afford for a sector to move slowly, whereas bigger agencies need a pipeline. I’ve watched dozens of companies get to this critical point where they’ve grown and grown and then they’ve just fallen off the cliff because they’ve been feeding the monster. To help with that, agencies often add a new business person. No-one ever talks about this, but a new business person costs around £50,000. The rule of thumb, in my world at least, is that you have to take that salary and triple it with turnover to pay that salary. So you need £150,000 worth of projects to pay for the new business person before you’ve made a penny. So to make a profit, the new business person has to bring in over £200,000 of work. And if this person can do it, which is not guaranteed, then the company has to scale. It’s so easy to get caught on a treadmill. What else has helped you stay in business so long? We’ve always led with the thought behind the idea, not the way it looked. Because I was always much more interested in the idea behind something, I think that has helped us not get sucked into the visual, to use the type face du jour, the colour that everyone else is using. And it’s understandable, because graphic designers want to do stuff that their peers really like. But paradoxically the trick, in my opinion, is to try and zag away from the trends. Create a new trend yourself. Johnson Banks’ globe symbol for the COP 26 climate conference Design disciplines in this article Industries in this article Brands in this article What to read next Neville Brody on clients, education, and his unexpected OBE Graphic Design 30 Jan, 2025

06/03 — 2025 by abduzeedo Explore the impactful branding and visual identity for Culture & Community Power Fund by Outside. See how design elevates community action. Hey creatives! Let's dive into some truly inspiring work today. Our friends at Outside, a global design and tech studio based in Kathmandu, recently rolled out a fresh brand and website for the Culture & Community Power Fund (C&CPF). This project isn't just about aesthetics; it's about design with a deeper purpose. Crafting a Visual Voice for Community Power C&CPF champions grassroots organizations. They focus on communities most affected by systemic oppression. Their mission involves direct funding, sharing resources, and building networks. Outside's goal was clear: uplift grantee work, create a wisdom hub, and clarify culture's role in social action . Elizabeth Lepro, Editorial Lead at Outside, shared that the project expanded their understanding of "culture." They aimed to visually inject the celebratory and communal aspects of shared spaces, rituals, stories, and traditions throughout the brand . This passion shines through in the final output. The Ampersand: A Symbol of Collaboration One standout element in C&CPF's new branding and visual identity is the ampersand (&). Outside emphasized this symbol in the logo, a direct nod to C&CPF's collaborative ethos. What's really clever is how they rendered the ampersand in various fonts. Each typeface reflects the diverse visions of C&CPF's partner-grantees. For instance, the rounded Akaya Kanadaka typeface conveys the joyful spirit of culturally infused community power building. Pilowlava, another typeface, speaks to a grantee-partner's work in urban farming and sustainability . It's a subtle yet powerful way to represent unity in diversity. Gritty, Bold, and Inviting Visuals Established in 2022, C&CPF is relatively new. They wanted to avoid looking overly traditional. Outside delivered a gritty, bold aesthetic, drawing inspiration from protest signs and zines. Snappy animations complement this vibe. They even provided image frames to unify varying aesthetics from featured organizations. The chosen color palette is a rich blend of orange, purple, yellow, black, and white. This combination expresses warmth and invitation, perfectly aligning with the Fund's focus on people and communities. The brand incorporates vibrant photography, showcasing scenes like festivals, local games, and urban farms. Bridging the Knowledge Gap Beyond the visual, Outside also provided copywriting and narrative support. They made sure the site explains "community power building" in accessible language. The "What is Community Power Building?" page breaks down basics, relevant vocabulary, and context. It clarifies that culture extends beyond art and music, encompassing traditions, stories, rituals, and shared spaces. A key feature is the "Knowledge Commons," a custom-built resource library. It serves both experienced practitioners and newcomers, fostering shared wisdom. This hub even accepts submissions, allowing C&CPF team members to edit and publish them. This project by Outside is a fantastic example of how thoughtful branding and visual identity can empower a mission. It shows that design isn't just about looking good; it's about building understanding, fostering connection, and driving meaningful change. What aspects of this purposeful design resonate most with you? Explore more of Outside's work and the Culture & Community Power Fund's initiatives to see how design can truly make an impact. Learn more about Outside's work Branding and visual identity artifacts Tags branding

There’s a problem with today’s AI development tools. Vibe coding platforms are impressive and fun, but net-new code is useless when you already have a production codebase. Meanwhile, AI IDEs are powerful and interface with existing code, but they’re complex and developer-only.Builder fills this gap. It's not another AI coding toy—it's an enterprise-grade development platform and visual canvas that plugs into your existing React and Material UI projects. It understands your code, respects your design decisions, and your whole team can use it, not just devs.Builder: The AI-powered visual canvasBuilder is Git-backed, AI-powered, visually responsive, and capable of Figma-like design edits.Connect existing React and Material UI reposConnect any GitHub repo, including monorepo and multi-repo setups. Builder works from fresh branches (never Main), offers preview URLs, and creates AI-generated PRs.Once your project loads, try writing a prompt like, "make the hero image full-width,” or "add a Users dashboard at the /users route.”Use Material UI and your custom componentsBuilder adheres to your specific design systems and component libraries. Need all your code pinned to MUI v5.1? Should every new button use your team's custom <Button/>? Builder intelligently finds and matches your design system patterns.Wire up all your APIsConnecting APIs is easy with Builder. Its no-code nature empowers the non-developers on your team to build sophisticated solutions, too. Try a prompt like, “Fetch customer data from Supabase and render it as MUI grid."Edit React components visually with pixel-perfect precisionYou can't create truly pixel-perfect UIs with AI prompts alone. Need to subtly adjust a Card's elevation or push a Container five pixels to the left on mobile? Use Builder's visual controls, and it will update the code with the correct MUI props. It’s like an AI-first Figma replacement.Leverage our rich Figma to React integrationBuilder speaks fluent Figma. It can turn individual frames into components, merge multiple frames into complex layouts, or reference designs against existing elements. Builder also maps Figma components to their equivalent Material UI components, saving your devs hours of toil.Drag and drop anything for extra contextDrop in files for extra context—documents, PDFs, and screenshots all work. You can also use the @ keyword to reference other files in your codebase. The AI will analyze your reference materials and suggest appropriate patterns.Push code changes to Github using our agentic PR workflowBuilder both generates code and ships it back to your codebase. It makes intelligent PRs straight to GitHub. Even better, you can then tag @builderio-bot in your comments, and then the agent will handle feedback, make updates, and even fix build issues.Built for whole team collaborationBuilder works for everyone and solves problems across your entire organization:Designers can ensure design consistency, validate responsiveness, and eliminate the endless "that's not quite right" feedback cycles. Developers can connect existing repos to a powerful AI agent and visual assistant, turbocharging their cycles and creating high-quality UIs without design support. Product managers can create quick iterations, A/B test different layouts, and keep momentum on product improvements. Design system teams can enforce consistency across large teams, onboard new developers, and ensure design system adoption succeeds at scale.Getting Started with Builder and React + MUI appsThere are two ways to start developing React and Material UI apps with Builder. First, navigate to the sidebar menu inside your Builder account. Then choose the Projects menu (the icon looks like GitHub’s Octocat). Then you can either:Connect your existing repositoryConnect your GitHub repo to Builder and start editing visually right away. Give it a prompt, like "Create a new admin dashboard. Use our styling patterns and existing components..." Now, try tweaking the output in the visual canvas or pushing an AI-generated PR back to GitHub.Start fresh with an ideaDon't have a project yet? No worries. Write a prompt like "Create a contact form with validation using react-hook-form and MUI best practices." Builder will generate everything from scratch using your specified framework, component library, and unique design languageTry Builder with your next project.

Key Takeaways New EU rules take effect June 20, 2025, requiring mobile phones and tablets to be easier and cheaper to repair, including mandatory access to spare parts for up to seven years. Devices must meet durability standards, such as resistance to drops, water, and dust, and batteries must retain 80% capacity after 800 cycles. Manufacturers must offer 5 years of software updates and grant repair professionals access to firmware and repair tools to ensure long-term device usability. Energy consumption is expected to drop, with households projected to save €98 over five years due to longer-lasting, more repairable devices. In a win for the right to repair, the European Union (EU) has released its new energy labeling and ecodesign requirements for mobile phones, tablets, and even cordless phones.  Once implemented, this would help extend the product lifetime of these devices by making them cheaper and easier to repair. Up Ahead: Long-Lasting and Easy-to-Repair Devices The new ecodesign and energy labeling regulations will apply to devices sold in the EU effective June 20, 2025. One key area is the availability of spare parts. Once the regulations take effect, critical spare parts for a device must remain available for seven years from the last day the producer stops selling it. These parts must also be available to repairers within 5–10 working days. Mobile phones, cordless phones, and tablets under the ecodesign regulations must also be resistant to scratches and accidental drops, and be protected from dust and water.  The EU also specified that batteries must withstand at least 800 charge and discharge cycles while holding 80% of their initial capacity. These measures could help ensure devices last longer, thus reducing the need to replace them and lowering their cost of ownership. The requirements go beyond just the hardware. On the software side, manufacturers must also provide at least 5 years of operating system upgrades and give professional repairers access to software or firmware.  These would allow devices to continue to run smoothly and protect them from security vulnerabilities. On top of the ecodesign requirements, the EU also specified energy labeling requirements on the applicable devices. The labels would provide information about the device’s repairability score, energy efficiency, battery longevity, dust and water protection, and resistance to accidental drops. Having clear and easy-to-understand labels can help consumers in the EU make better choices when buying phones and tablets. They’ll know at a glance whether a device can withstand drops or if the batteries will remain reliable for as long as possible. The Projected Impact of the Ecodesign and Energy Labeling Requirements With the new requirements, the EU expects a significant reduction in the energy consumption of the applicable devices. Regarding charging time, this should go down from 2.5 to 1.75 hours per day.  Also, the annual electrical consumption of high-end smartphones is projected to decrease by 25%, while it’s 23% for tablets by 2030. Making devices easier to repair is also seen to reduce the acquisition costs of devices by € 98 per household in five years. A Win for the Right to Repair, But Obstacles Lie Ahead While the EU has already made significant progress in the area of the right to repair, many countries remain well behind. In the US, for instance, only a handful of states like California and Colorado have already enacted right-to-repair laws, while most of the country has yet to catch up. Without laws like these, most manufacturers won’t have the incentive to make their devices easier to repair.  A quick look at iFixit’s smartphone repairability scores shows that only Fairphone, which scored a perfect 10, HMD (9), and Nokia (8) had high scores among current phones. At the same time, Apple’s iPhone 16 line received a respectable 7. The Fairphone 5, launched in 2023, is especially notable for its repairability. According to iFixit, it’s easy to disassemble with common tools, the battery can be replaced quickly, and manuals and replacement parts are available to DIYers. As for the others, Ifixit gave Google’s Pixel 9 series a 5 for making it difficult to remove the battery and the USB-C port and requiring a replacement adhesive to secure the screen or back glass instead of using clips or fasteners. Meanwhile, the Samsung Galaxy S23 Ultra received a 4 because the battery is attached with a strong adhesive, and repairing the screen needs a lot of disassembly. All in all, we remain hopeful that with the EU’s lead, manufacturers can finally be encouraged to make repairing their devices easier than ever before. As technology continues to evolve—from the return of 'dumbphones' to faster and sleeker computers—seasoned tech journalist, Cedric Solidon, continues to dedicate himself to writing stories that inform, empower, and connect with readers across all levels of digital literacy. With 20 years of professional writing experience, this University of the Philippines Journalism graduate has carved out a niche as a trusted voice in tech media. Whether he's breaking down the latest advancements in cybersecurity or explaining how silicon-carbon batteries can extend your phone’s battery life, his writing remains rooted in clarity, curiosity, and utility. Long before he was writing for Techreport, HP, Citrix, SAP, Globe Telecom, CyberGhost VPN, and ExpressVPN, Cedric's love for technology began at home courtesy of a Nintendo Family Computer and a stack of tech magazines. Growing up, his days were often filled with sessions of Contra, Bomberman, Red Alert 2, and the criminally underrated Crusader: No Regret. But gaming wasn't his only gateway to tech.  He devoured every T3, PCMag, and PC Gamer issue he could get his hands on, often reading them cover to cover. It wasn’t long before he explored the early web in IRC chatrooms, online forums, and fledgling tech blogs, soaking in every byte of knowledge from the late '90s and early 2000s internet boom. That fascination with tech didn’t just stick. It evolved into a full-blown calling. After graduating with a degree in Journalism, he began his writing career at the dawn of Web 2.0. What started with small editorial roles and freelance gigs soon grew into a full-fledged career. He has since collaborated with global tech leaders, lending his voice to content that bridges technical expertise with everyday usability. He’s also written annual reports for Globe Telecom and consumer-friendly guides for VPN companies like CyberGhost and ExpressVPN, empowering readers to understand the importance of digital privacy. His versatility spans not just tech journalism but also technical writing. He once worked with a local tech company developing web and mobile apps for logistics firms, crafting documentation and communication materials that brought together user-friendliness with deep technical understanding. That experience sharpened his ability to break down dense, often jargon-heavy material into content that speaks clearly to both developers and decision-makers. At the heart of his work lies a simple belief: technology should feel empowering, not intimidating. Even if the likes of smartphones and AI are now commonplace, he understands that there's still a knowledge gap, especially when it comes to hardware or the real-world benefits of new tools. His writing hopes to help close that gap. Cedric’s writing style reflects that mission. It’s friendly without being fluffy and informative without being overwhelming. Whether writing for seasoned IT professionals or casual readers curious about the latest gadgets, he focuses on how a piece of technology can improve our lives, boost our productivity, or make our work more efficient. That human-first approach makes his content feel more like a conversation than a technical manual. As his writing career progresses, his passion for tech journalism remains as strong as ever. With the growing need for accessible, responsible tech communication, he sees his role not just as a journalist but as a guide who helps readers navigate a digital world that’s often as confusing as it is exciting. From reviewing the latest devices to unpacking global tech trends, Cedric isn’t just reporting on the future; he’s helping to write it. View all articles by Cedric Solidon Our editorial process The Tech Report editorial policy is centered on providing helpful, accurate content that offers real value to our readers. We only work with experienced writers who have specific knowledge in the topics they cover, including latest developments in technology, online privacy, cryptocurrencies, software, and more. Our editorial policy ensures that each topic is researched and curated by our in-house editors. We maintain rigorous journalistic standards, and every article is 100% written by real authors.

The ways roads are used, with ever larger and heavier vehicles, have dramatic consequences on the environment – and electric cars are not the answer Today, there is an average of 37 tonnes of road per inhabitant of the planet. The weight of the road network alone accounts for a third of all construction worldwide, and has grown exponentially in the 20th century. There is 10 times more bitumen, in mass, than there are living animals. Yet growth in the mass of roads does not automatically correspond to population growth, or translate into increased length of road networks. In wealthier countries, the number of metres of road per inhabitant has actually fallen over the last century. In the United States, for instance, between 1905 and 2015 the length of the network increased by a factor of 1.75 and the population by a factor of 3.8, compared with 21 for the mass of roads. Roads have become wider and, above all, much thicker. To understand the evolution of these parameters, and their environmental impact, it is helpful to trace the different stages in the life of the motorway.  Until the early 20th century, roads were used for various modes of transport, including horses, bicycles, pedestrians and trams; as a result of the construction of railways, road traffic even declined in some European countries in the 19th century. The main novelty brought by the motorway was that they would be reserved for motorised traffic. In several languages, the word itself – autostrada, autobahn, autoroute or motorway – speaks of this exclusivity.  Roman roads varied from simple corduroy roads, made by placing logs perpendicular to the direction of the road over a low or swampy area, to paved roads, as this engraving from Jean Rondelet’s 19th‑century Traité Théorique et Pratique de l’Art de Bâtir shows. Using deep roadbeds of tamped rubble as an underlying layer to ensure that they kept dry, major roads were often stone-paved, metalled, cambered for drainage and flanked by footpaths, bridleways and drainage ditches Like any major piece of infrastructure, motorways became the subject of ideological discourse, long before any shovel hit the ground; politicians underlined their role in the service of the nation, how they would contribute to progress, development, the economy, modernity and even civilisation. The inauguration ceremony for the construction of the first autostrada took place in March 1923, presided over by Italy’s prime minister Benito Mussolini. The second major motorway programme was announced by the Nazi government in 1933, with a national network planned to be around 7,000 kilometres long. In his 2017 book Driving Modernity: Technology, Experts, Politics, and Fascist Motorways, 1922–1943, historian Massimo Moraglio shows how both programmes were used as propaganda tools by the regimes, most notably at the international road congresses in Milan in 1926 and Munich in 1934. In the European postwar era, the notion of the ‘civilising’ effect of roads persevered. In 1962, Valéry Giscard d’Estaing, then‑secretary of state for finances and later president of France, argued that expanded motorways would bring ‘progress, activity and life’. This discourse soon butted up against the realities of how motorways affected individuals and communities. In his 2011 book Fighting Traffic: The Dawn of the Motor Age in the American City, Peter D Norton explores the history of resistance to the imposition of motorised traffic in North American cities. Until the 1920s, there was a perception that cars were dangerous newcomers, and that other street and road uses – especially walking – were more legitimate. Cars were associated with speed and danger; restrictions on motorists, especially speed limits, were routine.  Built between 1962 and 1970, the Westway was London’s first urban motorway, elevated above the city to use less land. Construction workers are seen stressing the longitudinal soffit cables inside the box section of the deck units to achieve the bearing capacity necessary to carry the weight of traffic Credit: Heritage Image Partnership Ltd / Alamy To gain domination over cities, motor vehicles had to win priority over other street uses. Rather than restricting the flow of vehicles to minimise the risk of road accidents, a specific infrastructure was dedicated to them: both inner‑city roads and motorways. Cutting through the landscape, the motorway had, by definition, to be inaccessible by any other means of transport than motorised vehicle. To guarantee the fluidity of traffic, the construction of imposing bridges, tunnels and interchanges is necessary, particularly at junctions with other roads, railways or canals. This prioritisation of one type of user inevitably impacts journeys for others; as space is fragmented, short journeys are lengthened for those trying to navigate space by foot or bicycle.  Enabling cars to drive at around 110–140km/h on motorways, as modern motorways do, directly impacts their design, with major environmental effects: the gradient has to be gentle (4 per cent), the curves long (1.5km in radius) and the lanes wide, to allow vehicles to overtake each other safely. As much terrain around the world is not naturally suited to these requirements, the earthworks are considerable: in France, the construction of a metre of highway requires moving some 100m3 of earth, and when the soil is soft, full of clay or peat, it is made firmer with hydraulic lime and cement before the highway’s first sub‑layers are laid. This material cost reinforces the criticisms levelled in the 1960s, by the likes of Jane Jacobs and Lewis Mumford, at urban planning that prioritised the personal motor vehicle. When roads are widened to accommodate more traffic, buildings are sliced and demolished, as happened in Dhaka’s Bhasantek Road in 2021 Credit: Dhaka Tribune Once built, the motorway is never inert. Motorway projects today generally anticipate future expansion (from 2×2 to 2×3 to 2×4 lanes), and include a large median strip of 12m between the lanes, with a view to adding new ones. Increases in speed and vehicle sizes have also translated into wider lanes, from 2.5m in 1945 to 3.5m today. The average contemporary motorway footprint is therefore 100 square metres per linear metre. Indeed, although the construction of a road is supposed to reduce congestion, it also generates new traffic and, therefore, new congestion. This is the principle of ‘induced traffic’: the provision of extra road capacity results in a greater volume of traffic. The Katy Freeway in Texas famously illustrates this dynamic. Built as a regular six‑lane highway in the 1960s, it was called the second worst bottleneck in the nation by 2004, wasting 25 million hours a year of commuter time. In 2011, the state of Texas invested US$2.8 billion to fix this problem, widening the road to a staggering total of 26 lanes. By 2014, the morning and afternoon traffic had both increased again. The vicious circle based on the induced traffic has been empirically demonstrated in most countries: traffic has continued to increase and congestion remains unresolved, leading to ever-increasing emissions. In the EU, transport is the only sector where greenhouse gas emissions have increased in the past three decades, rising 33.5 per cent between 1990 and 2019. Transport accounts for around a fifth of global CO₂ emissions today, with three quarters of this figure linked to road transport. Houston’s Katy Freeway is one of the world’s widest motorways, with 26 lanes. Its last expansion, in 2008, was initially hailed as a success, but within five years, peak travel times were longer than before the expansion – a direct illustration of the principle of induced traffic Credit: Smiley N Pool / Houston Chronicle / Getty Like other large transport infrastructures such as ports and airports, motorways are designed for the largest and heaviest vehicles. Engineers, road administrations and politicians have known since the 1950s that one truck represents millions of cars: the impact of a vehicle on the roadway is exponential to its weight – an online ‘road damage calculator’ allows you to compare the damage done by different types of vehicles to the road. Over the years, heavier and heavier trucks have been authorised to operate on roads: from 8‑tonne trucks in 1945 to 44 tonnes nowadays. The European Parliament adopted a revised directive on 12 March 2024 authorising mega‑trucks to travel on European roads; they can measure up to 25 metres and weigh up to 60 tonnes, compared with the previous limits of 18.75 metres and 44 tonnes. This is a political and economic choice with considerable material effects: thickness, rigidity of sub‑bases and consolidation of soil and subsoil with lime and cement. Altogether, motorways are 10 times thicker than large roads from the late 19th century. In France, it takes an average of 30 tonnes of sand and aggregate to build one linear metre of motorway, 100 times more than cement and bitumen.  The material history of road networks is a history of quarrying and environmental damage. The traces of roads can also be seen in rivers emptied of their sediment, the notches of quarries in the hills and the furrows of dredgers extracting sand from the seabed. This material extraction, arguably the most significant in human history, has dramatic ecological consequences for rivers, groundwater tables, the rise of sea levels and saltwater in farmlands, as well as biodiversity. As sand is ubiquitous and very cheap, the history of roads is also the history of a local extractivism and environmental conflicts around the world.  Shoving and rutting is the bulging and rippling of the pavement surface. Once built, roads require extensive maintenance – the heavier the vehicles, the quicker the damage. From pothole repair to the full resurfacing of a road, maintenance contributes to keeping road users safe Credit: Yakov Oskanov / Alamy Once roads are built and extended, they need to be maintained to support the circulation of lorries and, by extension, commodities. This stage is becoming increasingly important as rail freight, which used to be important in countries such as France and the UK, is declining, accounting for no more than 10 per cent of the transport of commodities. Engineers might judge that a motorway is destined to last 20 years or so, but this prognosis will be significantly reduced with heavy traffic. The same applies to the thousands of motorway bridges: in the UK, nearly half of the 9,000 highway bridges are in poor condition; in France, 7 per cent of the 12,000 bridges are in danger of collapsing, as did Genoa’s Morandi bridge in 2018. If only light vehicles drove on it, this infrastructure would last much longer. This puts into perspective governments’ insistence on ‘greening’ the transport sector by targeting CO2 emissions alone, typically by promoting the use of electric vehicles (EVs). Public policies prioritising EVs do nothing to change the mass of roads or the issue of their maintenance – even if lorries were to run on clean air, massive quarrying would still be necessary. A similar argument plays out with regard to canals and ports, which have been constantly widened and deepened for decades to accommodate ever-larger oil tankers or container ships. The simple operation of these infrastructures, dimensioned for the circulation of commodities and not humans, requires permanent dredging of large volumes. The environmental problem of large transport infrastructure goes beyond the type of energy used: it is, at its root, free and globalised trade. ‘The material life cycle of motorways is relentless: constructing, maintaining, widening, thickening, repairing’ As both a material and ideological object, the motorway fixes certain political choices in the landscape. Millions of kilometres of road continue to be asphalted, widened and thickened around the world to favour cars and lorries. In France, more than 80 per cent of today’s sand and aggregate extraction is used for civil engineering works – the rest goes to buildings. Even if no more buildings, roads or other infrastructures were to be built, phenomenal quantities of sand and aggregates would still need to be extracted in order to maintain existing road networks. The material life cycle of motorways is relentless: constructing, maintaining, widening, thickening, repairing, adding new structures such as wildlife crossings, more maintaining.  Rising traffic levels are always deemed positive by governments for a country’s economy and development. As Christopher Wells shows in his 2014 book Car Country: An Environmental History, car use becomes necessary in an environment where everything has been planned for the car, from the location of public services and supermarkets to residential and office areas. Similarly, when an entire economy is based on globalised trade and just‑in‑time logistics (to the point that many service economies could not produce their own personal protective equipment in the midst of a pandemic), the lorry and the container ship become vital.  The final stage in the life of a piece of motorway infrastructure is dismantling. Like the other stages, this one is not a natural outcome but the fruit of political choices – which should be democratic – regarding how we wish to use existing roads. Dismantling, which is essential if we are to put an end to the global extractivism of sand and aggregates, does not mean destruction: if bicycles and pedestrians were to use them instead, maintenance would be minimal. This final stage requires a paradigm shift away from the eternal adaptation to increasing traffic. Replacing cars and lorries with public transport and rail freight would be a first step. But above all, a different political and spatial organisation of economic activities is necessary, and ultimately, an end to globalised, just-in-time trade and logistics. In 1978, a row of cars parked at a shopping centre in Connecticut was buried under a thick layer of gooey asphalt. The Ghost Parking Lot, one of the first projects by James Wines’ practice SITE, became a playground for skateboarders until it was removed in 2003. Images of this lumpy landscape serve as allegories of the damage caused by reliance on the automobile Credit: Project by SITE Lead image: Some road damage is beyond repair, as when a landslide caused a large chunk of the Gothenburg–Oslo motorway to collapse in 2023. Such dramatic events remind us of both the fragility of these seemingly robust infrastructures, and the damage that extensive construction does to the planet. Credit: Hanna Brunlöf Windell / TT / Shutterstock 2025-06-03 Reuben J Brown Share