28.01.2026

Architectural history of the future: What era are we writing right now?

Building design

Knowledge

Aerial view of white buildings visualizing sustainable architecture and digital transformation. Photo by CHUTTERSNAP.

Architectural history of the future? While the 20th century was characterized by concrete and glass and the 21st is embracing sustainability and digitalization, the question remains: Which era are we really writing right now? Between AI-generated façades, self-healing concrete and omnipresent climate targets, anything seems possible – the only thing missing is direction. Welcome to the era of radical change, in which every plan becomes a thesis and every construction site an experiment.

This article analyzes how the current architectural epoch is manifesting itself in Germany, Austria and Switzerland.
It highlights the most important innovations: From artificial intelligence to sustainable materials and digital twins.
He explains how digitalization and automation are redefining the architect’s job description.
He discusses the biggest sustainability challenges and their technical solutions.
He shows what know-how architects and planners urgently need today.
It addresses controversies, visions and critical voices in the international discourse.
It places the developments in the global context of architectural history.

Between digital revolution and ecological duty: the current situation

Anyone walking through the streets of Berlin, Zurich or Vienna today will see facades that can’t quite decide whether they still want to be modernism, post-digitalism or something in between. Today’s architecture is a patchwork of climate facades, timber construction, photovoltaics, recycled concrete and parametrically warped floor plans. While public awareness is still debating “green roofs”, planning offices have long been working with algorithms that optimize the position of the sun or simulate material flows. In Germany, Austria and Switzerland, this simultaneity of future and past is particularly evident: on the one hand, there are cities with ambitious timber high-rises and smart building projects, while on the other, the construction industry is still struggling with encrusted approval processes and building regulations from the last century.

The term “era” is increasingly viewed with suspicion in architectural circles anyway. The approaches are too diverse, the influences too heterogeneous. While a new generation of architects in Vienna is focusing on the circular economy and low-tech, parametric office buildings are celebrating success in Zurich. In Berlin, start-ups are digitizing construction site planning, while in the Black Forest, third-generation craftsmen are revitalizing traditional timber construction. The present is a laboratory in which everything is tried out, everything is combined – as long as it sounds visionary and sustainable. What remains of this is an open question.

But despite all the innovations, there is also a remarkable inertia in the system. The construction industry in Austria and Germany is traditionally conservative, and even in Switzerland, where experimentation is the order of the day, radical concepts are often met with skepticism. The regulatory framework is complex and there is little willingness to make genuine paradigm shifts. At the same time, the pressure is growing: climate crisis, scarcity of resources, housing shortage – the challenges are well known, but the answers to them are not yet fully developed.

So what remains? An era of contradictions, in which high technology and craftsmanship, sustainability and return on investment, innovation and inertia are irreconcilably opposed – and yet together they are shaping the future. Anyone who builds today is inevitably both a historian and a visionary. The architectural history of the future is being created in the field of tension between digital revolution and ecological duty.

The global context reinforces this dynamic: while new standards for smart cities and sustainable neighborhoods are being set in Scandinavia and Asia, Central Europe is in danger of running away from international role models. The era we are currently writing is less a question of style than a race for relevance and survival.

Innovation offensive: between AI, bio-design and the circular economy

The speed of innovation in the construction industry often seems like a bad joke to outsiders – and yet we are currently experiencing an unprecedented technological surge. Artificial intelligence is no longer just a buzzword, but controls parametric designs, generates façade elements at the touch of a button and optimizes material usage in real time. In Zurich, AI-controlled planning tools are already being used to select the most ecologically and economically sensible option from thousands of variants in seconds. In Vienna, developers are experimenting with learning building technology systems that adapt autonomously to user behavior.

But the greatest innovation is taking place beyond the software – in the material. Self-healing concrete, low-CO₂ bricks, bacterial plaster, urban timber construction and recycled components are not dreams of the future, but are being tested in pilot projects from Munich to Basel. The vision: buildings as raw material stores, designed according to the principle of the circular economy, modularly deconstructable and equipped with a digital material passport. What was considered a pipe dream just a few years ago is now part of urban development planning, at least on paper.

People are also returning to the center of planning – not as autonomous entities, however, but as data points in the digital twin. Urban digital twins, i.e. digital images of entire city districts, simulate traffic flows, climate impact and user behavior in real time. Architecture thus becomes a process that is never complete. Designs are constantly being reviewed, adapted, improved – and sometimes even discarded before they are even built.

However, criticism is also growing in the shadow of major innovations. Many planners fear that humans will be relegated to the status of extras in AI-supported planning. The algorithmization of design harbours the danger that creative intuition and cultural depth will fall by the wayside. At the same time, critics warn of the commercialization of urban models and the loss of planning sovereignty to tech companies that prefer to optimize returns rather than quality of life.

Anyone who wants to survive as an architect today therefore needs more than just a flair for design. They need digital skills, technical know-how, interdisciplinary thinking – and the ability to read between the lines of software developers and sustainability managers. The era of the future is not a walk in the park, but a permanent borderline experience between innovation and identity.

Sustainability as an imperative: the construction site as a climate workshop

When it comes to the ecological footprint, hardly any other industry is pilloried as much as the construction industry. In Germany, the building sector is responsible for around 30 percent of CO₂ emissions, and the situation is hardly any better in Austria and Switzerland. The demand for climate-neutral neighborhoods, resource-conserving building materials and energy-efficient buildings has long been mainstream – but implementation remains sluggish.

The biggest challenges lie in the inertia of existing buildings and the fragmented responsibilities. While Vienna is home to Europe’s largest timber high-rise and Zurich is decarbonizing its district heating, the switch to LED lighting in medium-sized German cities is often already stalling. The much-vaunted turnaround in construction is in danger of failing due to a patchwork of federal regulations and outdated standards. If you want to build sustainably, you have to fight your way through a jungle of funding programs, certificates and building regulations – and run the risk of losing sight of the actual task in the jungle of labels.

But there are glimmers of hope: the circular economy is slowly establishing itself as a guiding principle, and innovative material passports and dismantling concepts are being tested. Start-ups in Munich, Basel and Graz are developing platforms for urban material exchange, while construction companies in Switzerland are launching pilot projects for zero-emission construction sites. The construction site is becoming a climate workshop, a test arena for sustainable technologies and work processes.

The trend towards low-tech architecture, which relies on passive strategies, natural materials and local resources, is exciting. In Austria, self-sufficient housing projects are being created that manage without high-tech gadgets and still achieve maximum energy efficiency. At the same time, major German cities are experimenting with green roofs, façade greening and rainwater management in response to increasing climate risks.

Anyone who wants to help shape the architectural history of the future must understand sustainability as an imperative – not as a marketing label. What is required is a radical rethink in planning, choice of materials and operation. Because today’s ecological footprint is tomorrow’s historical legacy.

Digitalization and AI: game changer or loss of control?

Digitalization has turned the architect’s job description inside out. What once began as an artistic discipline is now a data-driven balancing act between BIM models, IoT sensors and AI-controlled simulation processes. In Switzerland, Building Information Modeling is already standard, while in Austria and Germany it is gaining ground – at least for large-scale projects. The advantages are obvious: more precise planning, fewer errors, better cost control. But the road to this is a rocky one.

Many offices are struggling with the integration of new tools, training and further education as well as the switch from analog to digital workflows. The fear of losing control is omnipresent. Who will make the decisions in future: the designer or the algorithm? How much creative freedom will remain if the AI calculates the optimal building surface and the software takes over climatic simulations? AI as a design partner is both a blessing and a curse – it forces architects to reposition themselves and demands a basic technical understanding that goes beyond traditional architecture.

Legal and ethical issues are also on the rise: Who owns the data of a digital twin? Who is liable if the algorithm miscalculates? How can transparency and traceability be ensured when planning decisions are based on black box systems? These questions are not only of a technical nature, but above all of a social nature – and they are hotly debated.

However, digitalization also offers enormous opportunities. It enables new forms of collaboration, faster planning processes and unprecedented transparency. Participation formats are being digitized and citizens can get directly involved in the planning process via virtual reality models. Architecture is thus becoming more democratic and participatory – at least in theory.

A global comparison shows: While cities such as Singapore and Helsinki have long been relying on digital twins and AI-supported urban planning, Central Europe is exercising restraint. The fear of loss of control, data protection and technical overload is great. But those who refuse to embrace digital change run the risk of irreversibly losing touch – and leaving the architectural history of the future to others.

The new role of architecture: between design aspirations and system responsibility

Contemporary architecture is facing an existential renegotiation of its self-image. Whereas the architect used to be the great designer who determined the course of events with a sure hand, today he is a process manager, data analyst, moderator, ethicist and sometimes also a psychologist. The discipline has become more complex, more networked, more political – and not always to the benefit of design quality.

At the same time, social responsibility is growing. Buildings and neighborhoods are no longer just aesthetic statements, but must be considered as part of infrastructure networks, ecological cycles and social systems. Every design is a thesis on sustainability, every construction task an invitation to social debate. The architectural history of the future will no longer be written by individual geniuses, but by interdisciplinary teams that have to assert themselves between building regulations, climate targets and software updates.

The job profile is changing rapidly. Anyone studying architecture at university today learns less about the history of style and more about systems thinking, data competence and sustainable planning. The future lies in the interface between technology, ecology and society – and in the ability to shape these areas of tension productively. The days of the self-sufficient design hero are over.

But there is great uncertainty. Many architects feel torn between the poles of digitalization and sustainability, while others see this as an opportunity for a long overdue professionalization. One thing is clear: the new era of architecture demands reflection, critical thinking and visionary courage. Those who embrace it can make history – in the best sense of the word.

An international comparison shows that the architectural history of the future will be shaped less by formal innovations than by systemic responses to the crises of the present. The next era is not a style, but an attitude – one that is constantly reinventing itself and never loses its relevance.

Conclusion: The era of radical openness

We are not writing an era in the classical sense, but are experiencing a radical openness in which everything is possible and nothing is guaranteed. The architectural history of the future is a process, an experiment, a challenge for all those involved in it. Those who want to shape it need courage, knowledge, critical faculties – and the willingness to constantly reinvent themselves. The future is not being built, it is being negotiated. And that is perhaps the greatest opportunity for a discipline that must never stand still.

12.11.2024

Project

Tverfjell hut from Snøhetta

Building design

The Oslo-based architecture firm Snøhetta built a hut made of Corten steel walls and glass in the Tverfjell area in the barren Norwegian landscape. The Tverfjell area was used as a test site for bombs and other munitions for 100 years. Now you can watch reindeer there undisturbed.

Anyone who founds their small architecture firm high above the infamous Dovrehallen pub in Oslo, takes Paolo Conte as the inspiration for an important competition design, builds at Ground Zero and, with the Oslo Opera House, makes us forget Utzorn’s Sydney Opera House, can also give this firm the name Snøhetta. This is the name of the highest mountain in the Dovre Mountains, which are almost sacred to Norwegians. It is named in the Norwegian constitution as a guarantor of stability (which is why Norway rejected the euro) and appears in Ibsen’s Peer Gynt.

Norway’s most important cultural prize is named after this shady character, which Snøhetta was the first architecture firm to win in 2008.It is therefore clear that Snøhetta was awarded the contract to build two cabins on Tverfjell. Unprosaically, it is a spacious wooden box with a communication-enhancing two-person outhouse and an observation hut, which is assigned to the Hjerkinn Wild Reindeer Research Center.

Garten_Landschaft_Snohetta__Tverfjell_Holz

Garten_Landschaft_Snohetta__Tverfjell_Fenster

It should be noted that the Tverfjell area (fjell means mountain) was used as a test site for bombs and other munitions for around 100 years and was also home to an important ore mine. When the military found a better place than the Dovre National Park, the renaturation began: munitions salvage, replanting with pioneer trees and a research center to look after the Dovre’s wild reindeer population of almost 10,000 animals and the reintroduced musk oxen.

As one half of Norwegians like to run up mountains super fast and full of energy and use the wild nature as a sports ground, and the other half like to drive to beautiful landscapes in comfort, a hut was donated to the battered Tverfjell, for which an attractive name is still being sought. Just half an hour’s walk from the parking lot leads to a classic box made of a concrete platform, Corten steel walls and glass.

The panoramic window offers a view of Snøhetta, which is breathtaking in itself. However, the rear wall of the building offers architectural competition. It is made of pine wood according to all the rules of craftsmanship. A wooden sculpture that is only possible through computer-aided modeling. Seating landscape, wall and eye-catcher inside and out – contrasted by an elegant French fireplace, which can radiate a little warmth, but is also suitable for grilling sausages.Only those who are really lucky will occasionally see reindeer grazing in the distance. Black balls of wool, the musk oxen, are more likely to appear in the field of vision.

The building was inaugurated in June and is now featured in the November issue of Garten + Landschaft , along with other highlights of Norwegian landscape architecture.

23.12.2024

Event

ASLA Conference 2019: Planning as cultural research

Building design

The 2019 ASLA conference questioned US identity in troubled times. A Congressional Report The term “elephant in the room” has a nice double meaning. On the one hand, it describes something important that is known to everyone but not explicitly addressed. On the other hand, it also describes a huge, trampled something that can dismantle given structures without much sensitivity. In this […]

The 2019 ASLA conference questioned US identity in troubled times. A conference report

The term “elephant in the room” has a nice double meaning. On the one hand, it describes something important that is known to everyone but not explicitly addressed. On the other hand, however, it also describes a huge hitchhiking something that can dismantle given structures without much sensitivity. In this ambiguity, the current US President Trump was precisely the elephant at this year’s annual conference of the ASLA, the American Society of Landscape Architects, in San Diego. There was little explicit mention of The Donald and his sometimes elephantine policies. But their consequences for the American present played an implicit role again and again.

Of course, this applied most directly to the many panels and presentations dealing with the consequences of climate change. The environmental politician and researcher Gina McCarthy laid the atmospheric foundation for this, so to speak. In her rhetorically brilliant presentation, she made it clear that the Obama administration has launched many concrete legislative initiatives. Not all of these have yet been revised – and it is unlikely that they can all be withdrawn. “The train is running”, was her ultimately optimistic message. The audience acknowledged this with standing ovations, but as a fact-oriented European, it took some getting used to McCarthy’s mass preaching style.

A kind of moderate basic ecological optimism almost inevitably emanates from events such as the ASLA conference, because they deal with concrete steps towards improvement. One field session, for example, presented the regeneration of the San Diego River ecosystem. Other panels presented solutions for areas in the hot and dry southwest of the USA, some of which are becoming uninhabitable due to global warming, or landscape architecture approaches for better air quality. The impression is that landscape architecture is aware of its responsibility and accepts it even in a harsh political climate.

However, this political and social climate also played another role. Many discussions addressed the identity-shaping and negotiating role of spatial planning. The USA (and not only the USA) appears today as a country in search of its “identity”. There is a kind of existential insecurity in society as a whole. The space in which we live can take on an orientation function – for entire societies, for smaller cultural units, but also for individuals and their immediate social environment. In this context, a panel on US post-war squares was very exciting.

The head of the “Parks Conservancy” of the city of Pittsburgh presented the careful redesign of Mellow Square in Pittsburgh. Ken Smith, a well-known landscape architect in the USA, presented three different redesigns from New York and San Francisco, including the outdoor space in front of Mies van der Rohe’s iconic Seagram Building in Manhattan. It was clear from all the plaza projects presented that US-American collective memory is being negotiated here. Post-war modernism was formative for US culture – and must be treated with corresponding care. “It’s about spatial integrity, but also historical integrity,” says Charles Birnbaum, head of the Cultural Landscape Foundation.

The elephant “La Frontera”

The question naturally arises as to who ascribes integrity or to whom it applies. After all, the idea of society as a homogeneous unit is disintegrating, and not just in the USA. Accordingly, it is important to unite different perspectives in landscape planning or at least allow them to have their say. Allowing heterogeneity was the overarching theme of many panels. “Landscapes with an edge” could be created, was the tenor of a discussion on the importance of subculture in planning. “Allow provocation, create spaces for subversion”, was the plea of planner and podcaster Michael Todoran (he runs the podcast “LArchitect”). The question is where subculture, where provocation ends and where mere commercialization begins. Whether, for example, the eScooters that are also filling the streets in the USA can be considered a subculture, as suggested in the panel, is open to debate.

Nevertheless, the cultural sensitivity of this year’s ASLA conference was high. However, one culturally charged topic that would have been obvious given the San Diego venue was unfortunately largely left out: Mexico and the planning challenge of the border. A (quickly booked out) field trip to Tijuana did take place. But the border was hardly mentioned in the content panels. And this despite the fact that the new ASLA President Wendy Miller told Garten + Landschaft in an interview that the planners had the planning dimensions of “La Frontera” in mind (you can read the interview in full at www.topos-magazine.com). But perhaps that border also represents a kind of elephant in the mental room of US culture. It’s there, it’s huge, but it’s being hidden as much as possible.