Articles by Camilla Ghisleni

For several years now, the countryside has ceased to function merely as a picturesque counterpoint to the city and has instead become an active laboratory for new relationships between territory, landscape, and people. Here, environmental urgency meets collective memory; ancestral techniques converse with architectural experimentation; and local communities act as curators of their own territory. Contemporary rurality emerges less as a geography and more as a culture—inscribed in ways of life that care for the environment.

Tashkent, the capital of Uzbekistan and one of the oldest cities in Central Asia, has long been shaped by a hybrid culture. Located at a strategic point along the Silk Road, the city developed an architectural tradition defined by inner courtyards, domes, decorative ceramics, and Islamic geometric patterns. The annexation by the Russian Empire in the 19th century introduced administrative buildings, orthogonal squares, and straight avenues, creating a dual urban fabric — between the “old” Eastern city and the “new” European one — in which contrasts and overlaps became the norm.

Every city carries, woven into its fabric, fissures that resist capture: ruins, vacant lots, leftover infrastructures, and gaps that persist at the margins of the official narrative. These are places that slip through the logics of planning, emerging as unexpected counter-scenes within a territory that seeks to present itself as coherent.

Since 1895, the Venice Biennale has invited the world to witness the evolving landscape of contemporary art. In 1980, the event expanded its reach with the launch of the Architecture Biennale, which quickly became one of the discipline’s most influential global platforms. Today, alternating annually between contemporary art and architecture, the Biennale affirms itself as a space where disciplines and ideas intersect. Always timely and provocative, it fuels essential debates on the role of art and architecture in the contemporary world. Among its most recent editions are the 17th Architecture Biennale, themed How Will We Live Together? (2021), curated by Hashim Sarkis; The Laboratory of the Future (2023), by Lesley Lokko; and Intelligens. Natural. Artificial. Collective (2025), curated by Carlo Ratti and open to the public until the end of November.

When we think of Venice, familiar images come to mind: Piazza San Marco, winding canals, and the reflection of Byzantine domes on still waters. Few, however, imagine that among those reflections lies a discreet chapter of Italian modernity — the architecture of Carlo Scarpa.

What happens when a city’s industrial past becomes the raw material for its future? In Copenhagen, Nordhavn transforms the old harbor into a living laboratory of sustainable urbanism, where warehouses and docks give way to independent districts, small islands, and canals that redefine what it means to inhabit the city.

It is undeniable that, at first glance, the idea of a Louvre in Abu Dhabi or a Centre Pompidou in Brazil may seem somewhat disconcerting. The image of these museums, internationally renowned, appears in many ways inseparable from their original cultural contexts. And to some extent, it truly is. The Louvre, deeply rooted in the history of France as a former fortress and later royal residence, embodies a set of invaluable heritage values, further amplified by I. M. Pei’s iconic glass pyramid intervention in 1989. The Pompidou, meanwhile, is remembered as a historic turning point: by redefining the concept of public infrastructure through radically unconventional architecture, it marked the first time culture drew in mass audiences.

In the productivity-driven dynamics of contemporary cities, playful interventions in public spaces offer an innovative way to reclaim urban environments. These interventions encourage new ways of thinking and acting, temporarily breaking the monotony of everyday life and redefining the concept of play. Once confined to childhood and separate from daily activities, play has begun to intertwine with routine paths, becoming an integral part of urban life even outside traditional leisure times. In this way, reintroducing the swing—the most iconic children’s toy—becomes particularly significant. As a symbol of childhood, pleasure, and joy, the swing contrasts sharply with the rigid appropriations of most public spaces, inviting a more relaxed and playful engagement with the urban environment.

In Belo Horizonte’s Aglomerado da Serra, Brazil’s third-largest favela complex with 50,000 residents, the Lá da Favelinha Cultural Center stands out as a vibrant hub of art and education. Founded in 2015 by the multifaceted artist Kdu do Anjos, the striking red building that stands out in the outskirts has gained recognition in both national and international architectural circles, earning several prestigious awards Yet, the recent renovation by Coletivo LEVANTE—honored as one of the Best New Architectural Practices of 2024—represents far more than vivid colors and bold design. It symbolizes the creativity and potential of the community itself. As a space for support and inspiration, Lá da Favelinha reflects a collective, democratic vision that merges the community’s dreams with the dedication of its founders.

Architecture in children’s shelters serves a purpose beyond building physical spaces; it is about creating refuges that nurture healing, protection, and growth. For vulnerable children, designing these environments plays a vital role in their emotional recovery. Every aspect—from natural lighting to room layout—works together to create a secure and welcoming atmosphere, supporting their physical well-being and psychological and social development.