Ashiesh Shah has long been a formidable presence in India’s design landscape. An architect, designer, artist and collector, he works across residences, retail interiors and collectible objects, with a practice shaped by restraint and a deep commitment to India’s craft traditions. One of India’s most influential creative figures, Shah has also curated design exhibitions across the country, while his own work has been presented at institutions including the National Museum in New Delhi. In 2022, Shah became the first Indian designer represented by collectible design gallery The Invisible Collection. And more recently, he opened his first solo exhibition in the UK, Taamr at Carpenters Workshop Gallery, on show till 20 September 2026.

Discover the work of Ashiesh Shah

Art, design and an appreciation for beauty have always come instinctively to Shah. At the age of ten, he persuaded his mother to purchase a work by Manjit Bawa, the celebrated Indian modernist; the painting would go on to become one of the family’s most prized possessions, as well as a significant collector’s piece. 'What pulled me in was the restraint in his work – how much he left unsaid on the canvas, how a single figure could hold that much space without needing anything around it to justify its presence,' Shah recalls.

He moved to New York to study Interior Architecture at Parsons in the early 2000s, and on returning to Mumbai, established his eponymous studio in 2008, grounding the practice in the principles of wabi-sabi. Those who recognised the subtlety of this language were quickly drawn to Shah’s work. Yet communicating its quiet power was not always straightforward. 'Quiet design does not sell well on paper; it can read as empty on a mood board, so I would just bring the material into the room,' he says. 'A slab of stone, a sample of plaster, something they could touch.'

Much of Shah’s early work was residential, though some retail projects that have stayed with him include the first Le Mill store in Mumbai, an Indian multi-brand concept housed within a former warehouse. Rather than rely on the artificial lighting typical of retail interiors at the time, Shah opened up the roof and introduced glazing, allowing daylight to travel through the building.

There’s also a space for Raw Mango, the celebrated Indian handwoven textile label. Stripped of wallpaper, pattern and overt colour, the space is defined, instead, by custom furniture, brass counters and fixtures, rendered in a restrained palette of natural textures.

The Indiabulls apartment in Mumbai is a richly curated home layered with art, handcrafted elements and contemporary interventions, and the penthouse in Hyderabad is defined by control rather than ostentation, revealing Shah’s preference for quiet materiality and considered detail.

All the while, Shah’s fascination with objects was taking shape alongside his architectural practice. 'I have always wanted to be an artist and, more than that, a sculptor. That instinct has been with me from very early on,' he says. 'Architecture became a natural way into it because it allowed me to sculpt with light itself, shaping how it moves through a space rather than simply designing walls around it. Product design grew from that same impulse, only at a more intimate scale.'

The ‘Liminal’ bench was the first object Shah released into the world, followed by several others, including the ‘Naga’ chair, cast in aluminium with a dark bronze finish and paired with an elephant-grass coat, and his ‘Channapatna’ furniture and lighting collection, a contemporary interpretation of Karnataka’s traditional wooden toy-making craft, composed of carefully turned, naturally lacquered beads. The ‘Channapatna’ light was created in collaboration with master craftswoman Noor Salma.

Sustained artisan collaborations are at the heart of his practice. 'We are not simply working within the boundaries of their craft; we are redefining it alongside them, pushing a technique somewhere it has not been asked to go before,' he says. 'That is when they stop waiting for instruction and begin bringing me ideas of their own. It is built the hard way, through failure, experimentation and years of trust.'

Now, ‘Taamr’, Shah’s first solo show in the UK, marks a significant moment in his long engagement with collectible design. 'Through materials such as copper, handcrafted mirrors, rudraksha and reclaimed objects, the exhibition explores how familiar forms can be reimagined without losing their cultural memory.'

Looking ahead, Shah is working on several significant residences across India, alongside a collaboration with Spanish designer and sculptor Nacho Carbonell. Craft, he says, will remain central to his practice. Reflecting on the decades to come, he adds: 'I hope the craft outlasts my name. If someone standing before a piece 50 years from now can still read the hand that made it, the material it came from and the tradition it drew upon, then it has done its job.'

ashieshshah.com

Overlooking the leafy banks of the River Tiracol, a Goa villa, set on the state's border with Maharashtra, was conceived as an architectural platform for family life in dialogue with its untamed natural setting. Designed by the Mumbai-based architecture studio of Jugal Mistri, JMA Mumbai, the home, titled SeaSky Villa, was designed as a celebration of both the life inside it and its broader countryside context.

Tour a white Goa villa surrounded by leafy nature

The project's journey began in a slightly unconventional way. Mistri and the JMA team were not given a very specific brief in terms of the number of rooms or the surface area, or even stylistic restrictions. Instead, the architects were invited to create a physical expression of the practice's core principles of 'collaboration, community and context'.

The project's characterful site was a key driver in the design's development, the studio explains: 'The absence of fixed instructions allowed the architecture to emerge directly from the land. The first encounter with the site revealed no obvious vantage point or horizontal surface – only a continuous slope falling towards the river.'

Taking their cues from this environment, the architects went on to craft their spatial strategy – a home placed on a series of cascading 'plinths', arranged around a central axis formed by the road as it enters the property.

Broken down into smaller volumes and made to feel lighter through permeable pavilions and colonnades that define its façades, the villa now spans a deceptive 4,000 sq m. Three bedrooms are located on the ground level, orientated to look out towards the landscape, 'transforming each room into a private viewing instrument', the studio adds.

The top areas contain expansive living spaces, which unfold through a variety of uses – entertaining and family rooms (defined by bespoke open-grain timber veneer panel joinery), kitchen and dining areas, both indoors and outdoors, including a striking open-air swimming pool and deck. Meanwhile, on the lower level sits a double-height studio loft, designed for independent living, its resident able to opt in or out of the social life of the family that resides above.

jmamumbai.com

This apartment in Worli, Mumbai, is a calm oasis floating above the Indian city's central, upscale neighbourhood. As Mumbai is slowly and steadily densifying, evolving building norms have allowed more homes to be constructed on the same piece of land. As a result, a big part of its building stock from the 1980s is currently being transformed into bigger and taller towers to house more apartments. Taking advantage of this newfound space in the sky is designer Rajiv Saini and his namesake firm, who have transformed a private unit nestled on the 60th floor of a local high-rise.

Step inside this Worli apartment in Mumbai

Worli is a sought-after area, with its Arabian Sea views and blend of contemporary developments with traditional fishing villages. Saini worked closely with his client, who made his money in the international financial markets. ‘The request was to create an easy, timeless, and serene space to function as a respite from the urban chaos and cacophony that is Mumbai,’ explains Saini.

Currently residing in California with his partner, the client visits Mumbai several times a year for business. The apartment was conceived to serve as their base in India, and occupies the new 360 West by Oberoi tower, just one lane behind Mumbai’s coveted Worli Sea Face.

Even though we had never met before (the client reached out to me based on recommendations made by his friends who live in India) we seemed to hit it off from our first meeting itself,' says Saini. 'We had similar ideas about what the space should offer and we both immediately agreed that while the home would be super luxurious, it ought to be restrained and neutral, allowing us to layer the spaces with important artworks.'

While it was clear from the start that the ocean view would take centre stage, the interiors and layout were less certain. Originally planned as a four-bed apartment (it’s a little over 5,500 sq feet), Saini converted it to a spacious three-bed home.

Designer Saini has worked in this area before, having recently designed the twin NJM & PVM coastal apartments for two brothers, each with different aesthetic preferences. This Worli project also highlights the ocean views and embraces the open-plan nature of the apartment, which makes it perfect for entertaining.

In addition to the three bedrooms, there’s a family room, an office space, and a flowing living, dining and kitchen area. In the heart of the space is a cleverly positioned glass wall. This acts as a divide between living areas without breaking the eyeline and view of the sea. Further architectural details include a sunken ceiling in the dining area, which elevates the space and captures the eye.

The material palette is soothing. Cool cream tones are coupled with warming brown ones found in furnishings and textiles. Contemporary art pieces add dynamic movement to the interior space. The contrast of shapes and materials ensures the apartment doesn't feel clinical – but centres on a warm sense of minimalism.

The client, who enjoys hosting, can make use of the large terrace attached to the living room, which allows socialising to spill over into the outdoors. This comfortable outdoor deck effortlessly becomes a natural extension of the living room, providing animated views of downtown Mumbai.

rajiv_saini_associates.com

This is the latest instalment of The Inside Story, Wallpaper’s series spotlighting intriguing, innovative and industry-leading interior design.

This Kolkata office has taken the belief that a stimulating environment unlocks creativity to heart. As the brand headquarters of Doreme, an Indian children's clothing label, the space takes its identity literally – transforming 3,600 sq ft into a giant sewing kit. Designer Pooja Bihani of Spaces and Design brought the vision to life through oversized buttons, cross-stitch patterning and neon-coloured lacing woven throughout the interior.

The office occupies a former warehouse – precisely the kind of open, generous shell that such a concept requires. Within it, Bihani introduced curved, flowing forms: amoebic workstations, oval meeting areas and a central showroom table stretching nearly twenty feet. Circulation has been carefully choreographed through subtle pathways, minimal doors and few visual barriers – an approach, again, well documented for its positive effects on workplace wellbeing. In place of solid partitions, curtain panels made from Doreme's own textiles, which mimic the drape and fold of garments, guide visitors.

Recreate the mood

The scene-stealer is the dramatic canopy ceiling: lime-green fabric fans out in a sunburst from a central stretch ceiling, acting as an art installation in its own right. Customised oval illumination tracks bring it to life – and serve a practical purpose too, providing the light required for accurate colour rendering in a fabric workshop.

The broader palette stays grounded in neutrals – white walls and muted grey surfaces – allowing neon accents to land with full force. Greens, pinks, oranges and yellows pulse through the space with a colour logic borrowed directly from the children's world Doreme inhabits, but applied here with a sophistication that feels entirely grown-up.

In this office, no detail is incidental. The tools and materials of garment-making have been elevated into design elements in their own right. Glass table bases are filled with thousands of buttons, zips, yarns and drawstrings. Storage units wear perforated faces patterned in cross-stitch; oversized buttons replace handles; desk partitions are laced with neon string; and functional dividers are reimagined as woven textile art.

By embedding the vocabulary of making into every element, the Doreme workspace achieves something whimsical and rigorous in equal measure – a kids’ wonderland that takes craft seriously.

Getting to Shakti Prana requires commitment. From Delhi, the journey to the hotel begins with a short domestic flight to Pantnagar, followed by nearly six hours of winding mountain roads climbing steadily through the foothills of Uttarakhand, the first of several drives across a five- to seven-night programme that takes in traditional village stays on either side of Shakit Prana itself.

Founded by Jamshyd Sethna over two decades ago, hospitality group Shakti Himalaya pioneered a form of luxury travel in the Indian Himalayas that was intimate and community-rooted, built around private walking journeys between restored traditional village houses in three distinct regions: Ladakh, Sikkim and Kumaon. Its most celebrated property, Shakti 360 Leti, helped define what mountain hospitality could look like when it opened 16 years ago, before being dismantled stone by stone in March 2024. Those same stones, carried by mule train 2,700 ft up a steep goat path, now form Shakti Prana, the brand's newest and most ambitious lodge, with breathtaking views of the Nanda Devi and Panchachuli ranges.

Wallpaper* checks in at Shakti Prana, Kumaon

What’s on your doorstep?

The walking around Shakti Prana is among the finest in the Kumaon region, and the beauty of the Shakti approach is that there is not a prescriptive programme. Each morning, over breakfast, you discuss the day’s route with your private guide – the distance, the terrain, the pace – and the plan is built around you, extending to picnic breakfasts on a bed of pine needles, arranged simply because it was mentioned the evening before. The standout is the Jhandi Dhaar ridgeline climb, a gradual ascent along a narrow pagdandi, the local word for a footpath, that follows the south-eastern ridgeline above the lodge through cedar and pine forests to open ridgetops with sweeping views across the Great Himalayan Range and the Ramganga river valley far below.

Herds of goats, cows and sheep graze the upper slopes, moving unhurriedly across the hillside. For those wanting something more demanding, the Ramganga river walk descends steeply through jungle and village houses to the river itself, though the steep climb back up is best suited to the more agile and fit. The circuit runs from early October to the end of April, the autumn months offering lush scenery and clear skies, with winter bringing the sharpest mountain views.

Who’s behind the design?

The lodge’s architecture is the work of Sam Barclay of Case Designs, who had previously served as site manager on the Leti project and brought an intimate understanding of both the logistics in such a remote area and the character of the landscape, resulting in a lodge deeply rooted in its setting. Seven suites – six single-bedroom and one two-bedroom – are arranged across the hillside, built from stone and glass, their large floor-to-ceiling windows framing uninterrupted views of the Nanda Devi and Panchachuli ranges.

Defined by stone, timber and copper, the interiors are warm and pared back with considered furnishings and local, textured fabrics. At 7,000 ft, bordering Nepal and Tibet, with solar power providing the entire electricity supply and spring water used for drinking throughout, the lodge operates lightly amid its environment.

The room to book

All suites largely follow the same layout, so the choice comes down to position on the hillside. Each has its own perspective, and opens into a cosy sitting room anchored by a wood-burning fire, with an Eames-style lounge chair and built-in seating that takes in both the flames and the views. From here, the bedroom is positioned to face the mountains directly, while the bathroom sits to the rear, a small atrium flooding it with natural light. The room to book is number five, which sits nudged against the forest, and while all have their own private terrace, here it sits to the side, adding an extra run of windows and considerably more light to the room, a bonus for early risers given that the blinds are sheer.

No doubt the best feature of the room is the service button by the bed. Press it and whatever has been arranged with the team arrives within minutes, from morning tea as the sun streams through those windows, to a glass of wine best sipped on the terrace next to the firepit at sunset. The day ends as well as it begins; return to your room after dinner to find the fire lit and a hot water bottle tucked between the sheets.

Staying for drinks and dinner?

The food at Prana is exceptional. Unlike many remote lodges, from Africa to Argentina, this one doesn’t try too hard. The cooking here – served family-style – is honest, rooted in what the surrounding villages and the lodge’s own herb and vegetable gardens produce. Leading the kitchen is Yeshi Lama, Indian-born with Tibetan heritage, whose cooking spans local Kumaoni dishes, broader Indian favourites like butter chicken, Burmese khowsuey – noodles in a coconut curry broth – and Nepali momos, a reminder of just how fluid the cultural borders are at this altitude.

Breakfast is usually Western, with fresh juice, granola and yogurt, alongside egg dishes cooked to order, but the kitchen is open to requests, among them spiced potato dosas, crispy and freshly made. After a long hike, lunch hits the spot with a good salad, mushroom pie or grilled chicken, while pre-dinner drinks on the terrace or by the living room fire arrive with canapés, from lamb kebabs to samosas, that set the tone for the evening ahead.

Where to switch off

At Prana, switching off requires very little effort. The nature, the setting and the peacefulness of the landscape are enough on their own, aided by the hikes, the village walks, and long hours spent reading on your private terrace. In between, you might make use of a yoga space, as well as a sauna and a deep-set bathtub that can be run hot or cold depending on your inclination, both positioned to look out over the hillside. Mobile signal is non-existent at the first village stop and limited at Prana itself, which only adds to the allure.

The verdict

Shakti Prana is, no doubt, one of the most remarkable properties to open in the Himalaya in years, and the Kumaon circuit that leads to it is among the most genuinely immersive travel experiences in India. The design is considered, the hospitality is warm and deeply personal, and the landscape is breathtaking. The caveat is that none of this comes easily. The journey from Delhi is long, the roads are winding, and the final approach is on foot. For those who see the remoteness as part of what makes an experience meaningful, Shakti Prana exceeds every expectation.

Shakti Prana is located at Shakti Kumaon, Kasar Devi, Uttarakhand 263601, India

When furniture was commissioned for the new city of Chandigarh in northern India in the 1950s, what resulted is some of the most important designs of mid-century modernism. But, from the partition of India to the overlooked name of a female designer, the story of Chandigarh furniture goes well beyond the sleek wooden lines of museum-worthy chairs and desks.

Chandigarh: a new capital inspired by Modernism

Jawaharlal Nehru, an anti-colonial nationalist and social democrat, took the mantle as India’s first prime minister in 1947 following the dissolution of the British Raj and the partition of the country into the independent states of India and Pakistan. When a new administrative capital was required in post-partition northern India, Nehru decided to create an urban centre from scratch that reflected his ambitious programme of economic, social, and political reform.

Deeply influenced by the advance of modernism elsewhere in the world, and how it was reshaping daily life to be more open and progressive, Nehru turned to British modernist architects Jane Drew and Maxwell Fry, who in turn enlisted esteemed Swiss-French modernist architect Le Corbusier to masterplan the new city: Chandigarh.

Focused on the Capitol Complex, the political and administrative city centre, Le Corbusier’s vision comprised stripped-back concrete architecture of clean lines and monumental presence. The design of Chandigarh was a bold break away from the decorative British colonial architecture that had come to define India’s cities; indeed, eschewing this tradition was a vital part of Nehru’s ambition.

Chandigarh furnituLe Corbusier and Pierre Jeanneret

The new buildings – which were built from 1953 into the 1960s – also demanded extensive furnishings. For that task, Le Corbusier turned to his cousin, Pierre Jeanneret, with whom he had worked on furniture projects previously – including the tubular steel-framed pieces made in collaboration with Charlotte Perriand in the 1920s.

Jeanneret brought his own language of modernism to the designs, to reflect Le Corbusier’s architecture and the forward-looking vision of Chandigarh. But he also turned to local materials and talent to bring the pieces to life – a matter of practicality if nothing else, as the scale of production to furnish an entire city was huge. Materials such as teak, Indian rosewood and woven cane were central.

Furniture included sleek wooden library tables with integrated lighting, laundry chests made from teak and woven cane, lounge chairs with zigzagging frames (known as ‘Kangaroo’ chairs), daybeds upholstered in cowhide, and elegantly geometric magazine racks.

There were teak and woven cane benches for the lodgings of Legislature Assembly members, leather and teak office desks, teak writing chairs for university students, wooden beside tables for residential buildings – and plenty of other wooden tables, desks and benches besides.

Many designs feature the visually bold and practically stable inverted-V legs (also known as ‘compass’ legs) that have now become an iconic feature of Chandigarh furniture.

Jeanneret worked with Indian architects and designers already involved in the development of Chandigarh, including AR Prabhawalkar, Jeet Malhotra, Eulie Chowdhury (the only Indian woman on Le Corbusier’s team) and Shivdatt Sharma, and turned to local craftspeople for the production of the furniture.

Perhaps the most famous of the furniture works is now known as the ‘Chandigarh chair’ (or even the ‘Jeanneret chair’), an armchair design that was developed for administrative buildings and defined by its geometric teak frame with compass legs and woven-cane seat and backrest.

Chowdhury – who went on to become Chief Architect of Chandigarh – is believed to have helped design this celebrated chair, as well as create the lighter-weight library chair, a version without armrests and a slightly different frame. Both were presented at the V&A Museum’s ‘Tropical Modernism’ exhibition in 2024, shining a spotlight on Chowdhury’s otherwise overlooked impact on Chandigarh furniture.

Chandigarh furniture: decline and revival

The subsequent decline and revival of Chandigarh furniture is as much of the story as its development. As the city was inhabited, some of the designs with more fragile elements, such as woven cane, were worn out from frequent use. Coinciding with a desire that shifted away from modernist styles and natural materials to more robust designs, the deteriorating furniture was discarded in junkyards or sold off rather than restored.

In the late 20th century, European gallerists began to acquire Chandigarh furniture for low prices – and sell them on for a lot more, owing to the market’s resurgent appetite for modernist furniture, and works by Jeanneret.

Soon, heritage experts in Chandigarh realised what was happening. In 2007, Rajnish Wattas, former principal of the Chandigarh College of Architecture, established Chandigarh’s Heritage Furniture Committee, in an attempt to archive the remaining stocks of the Jeanneret designs. The city authorities ordered that no more furniture be auctioned, and Chandigarh’s Capitol Complex secured Unesco World Heritage status in 2016.

A furniture exodus

Plenty of Chandigarh furniture left the city over the decades, however, and is now highly collectable. London-based collector Rajan Bijlani has carefully sourced and restored over 500 pieces since 2004, and has publicly exhibited the works to build appreciation.

‘I started collecting it to help conserve this design legacy, because it was not really being looked after,’ Biljani told Wallpaper* in 2024. ‘As a custodian, I want to donate some pieces to cultural institutions, so that they can continue to be preserved. I want to make sure that there’s increasing awareness about the importance and the history of the collections. It’s been a very long journey, but it’s a process that’s been done with care, custodianship and passion.’

Admirers of the furniture need not only look to the limited vintage market. In 2019, Cassina launched the ‘Hommage à Pierre Jeanneret’ collection, which takes select designs of Chandigarh furniture and reissues them in slightly updated versions.

Bengaluru-based furniture brand Phantom Hands, meanwhile, has also reissued some of the classic designs in its Project Chandigarh collection, balancing an appreciation of original craft and aesthetic with structural and material improvements.

If there’s one thing that Wallpaper* does well, it’s houses – spotlighting architecturally arresting gems from around the globe and spanning the spectrum of modern design. Our inboxes are overflowing with news of the world’s most boundary-pushing architectural projects, and we strive to bring you the very best.

To ensure you don’t miss a thing – and to showcase the scope of residential architecture today – we’ve launched a monthly series: The Architecture Edit. Each instalment will highlight our favourite houses of the month: buildings that demonstrate creative planning, innovative methods and, of course, aesthetic excellence. Here are the best new houses of April 2026.

A coastal Florida home

Architect Jennifer Bonner designed this Florida home for her mother, working within strict Homeowners Association rules that demanded a traditional material palette and symmetrical façade. To get around this, Bonner redirected her creativity to the roofline, introducing daring curvilinear eaves with soft pink undersides, while two false-front porches satisfy the symmetry requirement and corrugated metal is cheekily repurposed on the façade. Interiors by Carol Mockbee carry the theme through, with custom furnishings, terrazzo floors and ombré walls mirroring the exterior's curves.

Read about it here.

A pyramid-shaped house

Built in 1981 as part of Milton Keynes' Homeworld exhibition, the Pyramid House was a bold experiment in future residential design. London studio Khan Bonshek recently overhauled its confused layout, installing a spectacular new birch ply staircase as the home's centrepiece. Light cascades from the glazed apex, animating every room. Eaves were repurposed as sleeping pods, a sauna and workspace, while ground source heat pumps replaced the original inefficient ventilation. The result is eccentric, energy-efficient and far more liveable.

Read about it here.

A curved concrete villa 

Belgian architect Magalie Munters designed this concrete villa in Oostduinkerke, which is shaped by dunes, wind and light rather than conventional façade logic. Bedrooms are half-buried in the dunes while the living space rises toward the horizon. Striated concrete recalls sand at low tide, and interiors feature lime-washed walls, built-in concrete elements and sandblasted oak furniture – creating rooms that feel carved from a single continuous material body.

Read about it here.

Modernism in West Yorkshire

Designed in 1954 as a wedding gift for his brother, Peter Womersley's Farnley Hey is one of Britain's most celebrated modernist homes, and it’s now on the market for £1.05 million. Drawing on Le Corbusier and Frank Lloyd Wright, Womersley created something strikingly un-English – at the time, the flat roofs, floor-to-ceiling glazing and open-plan interiors were more akin to California than the Pennines. Camphorwood floors, York stone and lemon-yellow Formica panels add warmth, while a double-height reception room – known as ‘the dance floor’ – comprises the heart of the home.

Read about it here.

An Ontario home in the trees

Perched on a forested bluff above Lake Huron, Cedar's Kin is a sprawling 5,000 sq ft residence by Omar Gandhi Architects. Three interconnected pavilions, a guest cabin and a beach hut are threaded through the treeline, each rotated to align with gaps in the canopy and maximise lake views. To further harmonise the building with its wooded surroundings, careful planning preserved existing trees and minimised erosion, while eastern white cedar clads the exterior and white oak joinery warms the interiors.

Read about it here.

A Japanese home in London

Hagen Hall transformed this Grade II-listed Islington terrace house for a couple with ties to Japan – this connection is felt in a singular material palette of oak joinery and wall panelling and a genkan entryway, shoji-inspired glass shelving and a tokonoma-style display niche. A sunken garden dining room and moody snug complete a home that balances late-Georgian heritage with rigorous contemporary minimalism.

Read about it here.

An abandoned home revived

No Architects revived an abandoned structure in the Czech Ore Mountains – a region emptied after post-war expulsions – and transformed it into robust holiday accommodation. The studio stripped back decades of additions, burying what didn't fit and connecting the restored original farmhouse to an overhauled structure via a single-storey link. Ground source heating, a new well and remote-controlled systems ensure resilience against the brutal Czech winters, while white-painted walls, timber, terrazzo and steel roofing create a gleaming, hardwearing retreat.

Read about it here.

A Mexican brutalist villa

Casa Macahuite, a brutalist villa in Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca, by Studio Font, sits between ocean and mountains, accessible only by bridge over a lagoon. Designed to withstand earthquakes and hurricanes, the 300 sq m off-grid home features five structural planes and a 14-metre cantilevered pergola that shades, frames views and ventilates. Softened by parota wood, textiles and native planting, the residence blurs indoor and outdoor living – it even overlooks a protected turtle nesting beach.

Read about it here.

A boulder-supported guesthouse 

This serene guesthouse in Columbia County, perched atop glacial boulders sourced from within a 35-mile radius, is the work of Brooklyn studio Of Possible. Guests enter the sub-1,000 sq ft, timber-clad structure from beneath, ascending a staircase as the building wraps around them. Inside, two snug bedrooms, a serpentine marble kitchen island and carefully chosen vintage furniture create a warm, Scandinavian-inflected atmosphere.

Read about it here.

A serene Indian home

On the edge of Theni city in Tamil Nadu, oriented toward a nearby valley and lake, STO.M.P designed this calm, linear home. Three horizontal bands of varying texture and openness correspond to the home's functions: communal spaces at ground level, bedrooms above and a gym and suite at the top. Warm timber surfaces blend with brass detailing and bold colour accents, creating a layered journey which blurs the boundaries between interior and landscape.

Read about it here.

Set in a serene, leafy site, it is hard to believe that Western Valley House is a stone's throw from the bustling streets of the city of Theni in Tamil Nadu, India. The project, a private home designed by Madurai architects STO.M.P (one of our ten emerging Indian architecture studios to look out for), is centred on three key elements – the idea of home, the area's surrounding valley, and a nearby lake that sits adjacent to the site.

Explore Western Valley House in India

The design composition is straightforward: three horizontal bands, each representing a level, combined in different textures and levels of openness, reflecting the functions inside. This relatively low volume and its linear form help guide the eye across the structure, mixing textures and materials, and landing on the water feature's calming waters.

The home features a fairly typical internal arrangement. The ground level is dedicated to the social, communal areas. A flowing living space and large openings link indoors and outdoors. The first floor contains bedrooms and a family room. The top level contains a home gym and a bedroom suite.

The architects explain: 'The design is elegantly simple, featuring three linear bays offset vertically, with corridors connecting individual spaces oriented towards the west, extending gracefully towards the lawn. These spaces embody a liminal quality, blurring the boundary between inside and out, drawing in the captivating essence of the surrounding valley and the lake overlooking west.'

The material selection blends rustic and modern, drawing in the surrounding nature through warm wood surfaces – while sleek brass detailing and bright colours create contemporary accents.

The founders and principals of STO.M.P (short for Studio for Modernism & Practical Aesthetics), approach each project with a distinct cinematographic attitude and this is evident here too, as the journey through the home combines textures and moods, creating a dynamic envelope for everyday life.

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A 125-acre organic farm outside ​​Ahmedabad, India is one of the last places you might expect to find a design studio. But the rural setting was a perfect fit for Studio Alt, a mixed-use creative space designed by local firm Rushnaiwala Architects.

The project is designed around two creative practices, a hand-painted ceramics studio and bespoke speaker business. Architect Rushnaiwala Muntaha and his team drew inspiration from the soaring cast-iron arches in Henri Labrouste’s Bibliothèque Nationale de France in Paris, but reinterpreted the 19th-century landmark through brick and concrete.

As such, the building is defined by dramatic arches and a pitched roof. The massing allows for towering, vaulted spaces, illuminated by circular skylights and generous curved windows. Upon entering, visitors are greeted by a mango tree, which shades a set of entry stairs.

A central, triple-height atrium lies at the heart of the building and acts as the building’s primary gallery. Upper-level mezzanines accommodate studios and a library, while a south wing houses space for guest residencies and other amenities. The industrial palette reflects the activities inside and acts as a canvas to showcase the wood-crafted speakers and ceramics, which can be displayed in recessed alcoves.

Studio Alt ultimately acts as an adaptable environment to showcase the work of two creative practices, yet when stripped bare, it becomes an exhibit in itself.

If there’s one thing that Wallpaper* does well, it’s houses – spotlighting architecturally arresting gems from around the globe and spanning the spectrum of modern design. Our inboxes are overflowing with news of the world’s most boundary-pushing architectural projects, and we strive to bring you the very best.

To ensure you don’t miss a thing – and to showcase the scope of residential architecture today – we’ve launched a monthly series: The Architecture Edit. Each instalment will highlight our favourite houses of the month: buildings that demonstrate creative planning, innovative methods and, of course, aesthetic excellence. Here are the best new houses of March 2026.

A house between mountains

Set between Brazil’s Serra do Mar and Serra da Mantiqueira mountains, Valley House is architect Beatriz Meyer’s family home. Built on a rural plateau, the single-storey, horizontal structure is designed to blend into its landscape rather than dominate it. It’s divided into three volumes using glass, stone and carbonised timber, balancing transparency and solidity, while open-plan interiors emphasise light, airflow and connection to nature with pergolas and apertures framing views. The house embodies Meyer’s vision of calm, sustainable living, rooted in place.

Read about it here.

A Gujarat behemoth

Amaltash, a 12,000 sq ft home in Navsari, India, combines technical precision with cultural meaning. Designed by Veeram Shah, it embodies Le Corbusier’s idea of the home as both a ‘machine for living’ and a space rich in symbolic meaning. Climate-responsive design drives its form, with solar strategies shaping layout, patios cooling interiors, and large windows – the house operates as a micro-ecosystem, with rainwater harvesting and greenery replacing lawns. At the same time, it draws on Gujarati traditions. Crafted with local materials and artisan collaborations, Amaltash merges sustainability and heritage.

Read about it here.

A Canadian forest retreat

Nestled in British Columbia’s Coast Mountains, the Passive House Forest Retreat is a highly sustainable home designed to rigorous environmental standards. Its treehouse-like structure sits lightly on a forested slope, featuring a cantilevered volume that frames expansive views while creating a sheltered space below. Dark cladding and natural materials allow it to blend with its surroundings, while precise construction ensures top-tier energy performance. Interiors, meanwhile, complement the architecture with refined detailing and sculptural lighting.

Read about it here.

An unusual floorplan

Trim House in Vilnius, Lithuania, is a striking triangular residence shaped by unexpected planning restrictions. Originally designed larger, the project was reduced by 40 per cent after new regulations limited building size. Rather than compromise, architect Robert Konieczny reimagined the design into a compact, angular form centred around a courtyard. A spiral staircase leads to upper-level bedrooms and a terrace, while expanded outdoor space improves daylight and connection to the surroundings. The enforced ‘trimming' ultimately enhanced the project, proving constraints can inspire innovative architectural solutions.

Read about it here.

A modernist landmark

Designed in 1946 by Rudolph Schindler, the Kallis-Sharlin Residence is a modernist hillside home in Los Angeles. Built into a slope overlooking the San Fernando Valley, its layered volumes, terraces and glass walls blur indoor and outdoor boundaries, and distinctive features include a butterfly roof, clerestory lighting and rich materials like mahogany and Douglas fir. Recently restored and listed for sale at $6.35 million, this cultural monument stands as a lasting example of a modernist architecture that harmonises innovation, landscape and human experience.

Read about it here.

A bright red villa

Villa Jevany in the Czech Republic boldly contrasts its forest setting with a vivid red façade. Designed by Architektura, the house intentionally stands out rather than blending in, creating a dialogue between man-made form and nature. Built into a sloping site, it appears single-storey from the road but reveals additional levels below. Inside, a central staircase leads to a spacious living area with forest views, while irregular windows reference abstract art. Divided into active and quiet zones, the home balances striking visual identity with functional, family-oriented design.

Read about it here.

A timber house

Orchard House in Cheshire exemplifies thoughtful rural architecture. Designed by Studio Bark under strict UK planning rules, the home demonstrates exceptional design quality while remaining modest and energy-efficient. Its S-shaped plan spans two levels, with living spaces elevated for views across a restored orchard. Timber construction, passive design strategies and local materials reduce environmental impact, including parquet flooring made from a tree on-site. Over time, the house has blended into its landscape, aided by weathered cladding and revived planting, now representing a balance between contemporary, sustainable living and deep connection to place.

Read about it here.

A traditional Kyoto residence

House in Narutaki is a sensitive renovation of a traditional Sukiya-style home in Kyoto by kooo architects. Respecting strict preservation norms, the design maintains the building’s historic character while adapting it for modern living. Original tatami spaces were reconfigured into three flowing zones, including a garden room and connecting passage, while natural materials, sliding doors and handcrafted details preserve cultural authenticity. The result is a calm, minimalist home that honours Japanese tradition while providing a refined, contemporary living experience.

Read about it here.

A Jacques Couëlle-designed home

This organic modernist home near Cannes, originally designed by Jacques Couëlle in the 1960s, has been carefully refreshed by Miriam Frowein Interiors. Distinctive for its sculptural, fluid forms, the house exemplifies Couëlle’s ‘architecture-sculpture’. The renovation respects his vision, using organic shapes, earthy tones and handcrafted elements throughout, as well as mid-century-inspired furnishings to complement rather than compete with the architecture. The design approach allows the building’s expressive form to remain central while enhancing comfort and livability for contemporary use.

Read about it here.

A hidden island escape

Euthea, a house on the Greek island of Meganisi, is designed to disappear into its landscape. Created by Ateno Architecture Studio, it is partially buried and covered by earth, making it nearly invisible from above. As the first structure on its peninsula, the project prioritises minimal environmental impact – built with local stone and earthy tones, it blends seamlessly with its surroundings. Interiors are arranged to frame sea views, enhancing the sense of isolation and immersion in nature. Even functional elements, like a brass drainage pipe, are treated poetically, reinforcing the home’s quiet, thoughtful integration.

Read about it here.

This enormous building in Navsari, Gujarat, at first resembles a glossy shopping centre, or perhaps a corporate headquarters. In fact, Amaltash, as it is called, is a 12,000 sq ft family residence designed by architect Veeram Shah of Design ni Dukaan.

Shah draws inspiration from Le Corbusier’s proposition that architecture should be charged with meaning – capable of shaping rituals and memories. In his collection of essays, Vers une architecture, the architect famously described the house as a ‘machine for living in’ – this was not a call for cold or purely mechanical design, but rather one that functions with clarity, precision and efficiency while still embracing emotion and beauty.

In some ways, Amaltash does operate like a ‘machine’. Its design is deeply climate-responsive, guided by a rigorous solar strategy in which decisions – from the roof form to room placement – are shaped by the environment.

The building’s striking form emerges from a network of interconnected responses: deep patios and extended overhangs temper the harsh southern sun, while an 18ft-high window system draws in soft, glare-free northern light to illuminate the primary living spaces. The house is conceived as a tropical micro-ecosystem, replacing conventional lawns with shaded sit-outs, tree cover and permeable surfaces that evolve over time, alongside integrated systems for rainwater harvesting and solar energy. At a finer scale, the design engages with principles of Vastu Shastra, reinterpreting this ancient architectural framework to align space, nature and human life within a contemporary framework.

Yet Amaltash is not merely a ‘machine’. It is equally a vessel of meaning and cultural sensitivity. Despite its contemporary expression, the house draws deeply from the spatial traditions of the Gujarati home. A central courtyard and shaded baithaks extend domestic life outwards, while thresholds, built-in seating and transitional spaces create a richly layered environment. Sand-finished pathways echo the textures of Navsari’s coastal terrain, grounding the design in its surroundings.

Materially, the project remains closely tied to local craft. Collaborations with over 15 designers and artisans are integrated into the architecture, spanning textiles, lighting, furniture and installations, alongside the use of locally sourced marble, sandstone and granite.

By merging technical rigour with artisanal richness, Shah reconciles two seemingly opposing ideas: the house as a precisely functioning system and the house as a deeply human, symbolic space.

Architects Sönke Hoof and Khushnu Panthaki Hoof have an uncanny gift for noticing the almost invisible – that fleeting detail, or lack thereof, that others might overlook. Yet on a summer’s day not so many years ago, as they left the golden clamour of Ahmedabad, in the Indian state of Gujarat, for the languid green of its hinterland, they arrived at a site that appeared to offer almost nothing at all.

Like many such plots on the city’s outskirts – some 30 to 40 minutes away, beyond the tightening grip of urban density – the land held no preordained landmark, no obliging ruin, no obvious architectural cue. What it did hold was a tumbledown one-room cottage, once a weekend getaway, which went largely unnoticed. And, at the centre, two old sapodilla trees, which decidedly did not. ‘The trees immediately anchored the place,’ recalls Panthaki Hoof, half of the Ahmedabad-based Studio Sangath, which she leads with Hoo, her husband. ‘Everything else felt negotiable.’

Tour this breezy Gujurat house by Studio Sangath

As it turned out, the trees were as central to the owners’ memory as they were to the land - silent sentinels to long-ago summers, to afternoons spent with parents and, years later, to gatherings with children, all instinctively drawn to the same pocket of shade. Best loved for its sweet, succulent fruit – chikoo to the locals – the sapodilla is often seen as a symbol of nourishment and seasonal abundance. To the architects, however, it offered something far more enduring: a generous, living shelter. Its thick, low-hanging leaves filtered the sunlight into a gentle, dappled glow, turning the space beneath into a haven of calm. The earth remained cool, the heat held at bay, so that the body sensed relief before the mind registered it. ‘In this climate, shade was not an abstract idea,’ Hoof says. ‘You felt it in your body the moment you stepped under the tree.’

In many ways, the sapodillas laid the groundwork long before the architects could, shaping a project that became ‘one totally different’ from what might otherwise have emerged. Rather than treating the trees as obstacles to be negotiated, the architects allowed their trunks and foliage to dictate the rhythm, orientation and spatial sequencing of the house. A generous wrap-around verandah now envelops the trees, creating a shared threshold between inside and out.

Windows are carefully placed to frame distant foliage, while in other moments, leaves are invited indoors, blurring distinctions between built form and landscape. Once pruned - not for effect, but to make the site more inhabitable - the sapodillas became an effective filter against the sun. Unlike the family’s former city home, which struggled with light and relied heavily on artificial illumination, this house allows daylight to remain present throughout the day. ‘The trees do the work for us,’ Hoof says. ‘They modulate the light far better than any device we could introduce.’

If there is one thing Hoof and Panthaki Hoof resist instinctively, it is the comfort of rules. This aversion reveals itself in their insistence on designing from the inside out - shaping spaces around life rather than façades – and in their fascination with delayed revelation. Here, architecture unfolds gradually. Passages narrow and release, thresholds multiply, and views are withheld just long enough to make their eventual appearance feel earned.

Bedrooms, at once cocooning and outward-looking, tuck themselves discreetly into the plan, offering edited glimpses of the garden. A family lounge, meanwhile, occupies the first floor, complementing the larger living space on the ground level and rising deliberately to the height of the foliage to meet the sapodilla canopy at eye level. ‘It’s a completely different way of engaging with the landscape,’ Panthaki Hoof explains. ‘You’re no longer looking down at the garden or up at the trees – you’re inside that layer.’ She describes the sensation as one of gentle levitation, a kind of bird’s-eye view that subtly shifts perception and induces calm.

Nature here is not ornamental. On the opposite wing of the house, a gym and spa spill out onto a lap pool that dissolves into a wild, untamed landscape. Developed in collaboration with Ahmedabad-based landscape practice Studio 23N|72E, the grounds resist manicured perfection in favour of local species and seasonal rhythms, encouraging birds, butterflies and thick undergrowth rather than attempting to control them. Monkeys frolic freely, and peacocks parade the edges; these interruptions are accepted as part of daily life, not treated as intrusions. ‘You can’t design this kind of setting and then expect it to behave,’ Hoof reflects. ‘The idea was always to coexist, not to curate.’

The architects approached the landscape much as they did the house itself: as something unresolved, composed of hidden corners and meandering views that invite non-linear exploration. Hoof attributes this quality not to calculation, but to intuition – a state of flow in which logic steps back, allowing site, climate, family aspirations and memory to guide each gesture. That balance between recall and reinvention surfaces again in the home’s sloping roofs, which quietly reference the family’s longtime city residence. The gesture is subtle - an echo rather than an imitation. ‘Memory can be a guide,’ Panthaki Hoof says, ‘but it shouldn’t become a constraint.’

Indeed, the most delicate challenge was knowing where to stop. Allowing the house to emerge without over-determining it meant resisting the temptation to resolve every corner, to account for every future possibility. This ethos of restraint finds material expression in a carefully calibrated palette of grey stone, exposed concrete, teak, charred wood and restrained accents of colour. Despite their apparent austerity, the materials carry a subdued warmth, their tactile qualities revealed slowly through wear, light and touch. For the architects, such paring back expanded rather than narrowed possibilities. ‘When you reduce choice,’ Hoof says, ‘you start paying attention.’

Hand-built elements reinforce this sensibility. The staircase, in particular, carries an irregularity that resists machine perfection. ‘People respond to it instinctively,’ Panthaki Hoof notes. ‘There’s something deeply human about objects that reveal how they were made.’

The collaboration hums with a quiet resonance: Panthaki Hoof’s grandfather – the great modernist Balkrishna Doshi, with whom she worked until his death in 2023, and whose famous Sangath office complex is also where Studio Sangath is located – had once known the owner’s father, and decades later, she and Hoof’s daughter would celebrate birthday parties of the owner’s child beneath the same sapodilla canopy. Long before the house took shape, life had already gathered here, folding time gently back upon itself. Today, memory and architecture murmur with the landscape, shaping a home defined as much by what is left open as by what is built – a place where past and present converge beneath the enduring shade of the sapodillas, carrying the weight of countless quiet summers.

studiosangath.org

This is the latest instalment of The Inside Story, Wallpaper’s series spotlighting intriguing, innovative and industry-leading interior design.

In Sanskrit, the word ‘prakruthi’ refers to nature in its purest, original form. Studio Prakruthi embraces this philosophy, shaping spaces that feel grounded, intuitive and connected to their material essence. Nowhere is this more evident than in this Bangalore apartment belonging to Prakruthi Rao, the studio's founder and head designer – a refined, introspective residence which soothes the senses.

Set within Kingfisher Towers, a striking glass-clad high-rise that contrasts with the city’s traditionally modest architectural language, the apartment reimagines urban living as something more contemplative. Rao conceived the home as a monastic retreat – pared back to essentials and attuned to a life of fewer, more meaningful possessions. Its success lies in the fact that it achieves richness through restraint – far from feeling austere, the space hums with understated opulence.

Central to this elevation is an exacting attention to detail, which is embedded within the architecture itself. Doors, for instance, are fitted with seamlessly integrated handles, their presence subtly articulated through fine brass inlays. Such elements are the outcome of close collaboration with artisans and carpenters, reflecting a commitment to craft at every scale.

The apartment unfolds across an open-plan living, dining and bar area, three bedrooms with walk-in wardrobes, a study, and a media room with a home theatre. A balcony overlooks Cubbon Park, and this dialogue between greenery and cityscape is echoed in the home’s material palette: ashwood flooring, smoked walnut veneers, natural brass fixtures, cork and textured wallpapers and accents of pewter and stainless steel.

Many of the furniture and objects are bespoke, designed by Studio Prakruthi and, in some cases, crafted from leftover materials found on site. The dining table, for example, pairs raw stainless steel with a walnut top, while the coffee table reimagines wood offcuts into a sculptural form. Vintage and collectible additions – including Danish dining chairs, a piece by Carl Auböck and restored wall lights by Louis Poulsen – introduce layers of global history.

Art also plays a meaningful role, with works ranging from contemporary Indian textiles dyed in natural indigo to traditional Gond art. In the living room stands a commissioned bronze sculpture of Bharata, an emperor of Indian mythology, by fifth-generation sculptor Yethin Nagesh. Each evening, as the setting sun filters through the apartment, the sculpture is illuminated in a daily ritual of reverence.

‘I designed the interior to be one of grace, not trend,’ Rao reflects. ‘It’s designed to age with finesse, to gather stories and deepen in meaning over time. The home speaks softly… encouraging its inhabitants to flow with it.’

This is a space that demonstrates that minimalism need not sacrifice warmth or richness, and that thoughtful design can do so much more with less.

Recreate the mood

This striking home is not the typical kind that features in the pages of magazines – called ‘Gaugram’, it’s a cow shelter. Still, for its architects, Ahmedabad- and Mumbai-based Compartment S4, this home for cattle is as design-led as any residential architecture project destined for human inhabitants.

Explore Gaugram, a new, design-led cow shelter in India

Located in a 350-acre fruit orchard in Dahanu, Maharashtra, as part of a bigger campus also including a school and skill development centre, the cow shelter was created to replace an existing structure on site, which had been in disrepair. The architects aimed to design a new facility with 'health, behaviour, and dignity' at its heart, both for the animals (some 400 cows) and the people working there.

While the building reads as a fairly straightforward structure – a permeable space that ‘breathes’ – it is elevated by careful internal arrangement of the different areas as well as its rich materiality; it is composed of sourced black basalt stone, exposed brick, and handcrafted elements. These factors, coupled with details in stone, brick, bamboo, and metal, make for a building with an almost civic presence, which is at the same time rooted in the region's material resources.

Inside, clearly defined zones for cattle, services, and open paddocks ensure 'hygiene, ease of movement, and long-term operational clarity', the architects write in their project description. This underlines their commitment to a hygiene-first approach and reducing stress for the animals.

Meanwhile, small adjustments make a big difference in the operational life and wellness of all users in the facility, the architects explain: 'Rounded water troughs reduce the risk of injury, breathable brick flooring improves hygiene and cow belly health, and reinforced MS columns with rounded caps double up as scratching surfaces. In the open paddocks, drinking water troughs or 'havadas' were designed as communal water bodies inspired by the logic of an earthen pot or matka.'

'Lined with lime plaster, these water bodies remain naturally cool. A tree planted at the centre allows the surrounding soil to regulate heat, and the shade of the tree creates a comfortable, sheltered space for the cows to drink water in the open.'

The complex is also anchored in passive cooling strategies to allow for a sustainable overall design approach and function. The thermal mass of basalt stone and exposed brick further helps maintain internal temperatures to pleasant levels. Open-air paddocks help create a microclimate across the site that benefits both humans and animals.

It all results in a mindful piece of agricultural infrastructure, created with nature at its core. The architects conclude: 'Gaughar challenges conventional perceptions of agricultural architecture and animal shelters. It demonstrates that spaces designed for livestock need not be anonymous or purely utilitarian, and that care, dignity, and architectural intent can be integral to their functioning.

'More than a shelter for cattle, [it] stands as an example of how architecture can act as stewardship. It is a place where craft meets ecology, where systems are designed to sustain one another, and where the built environment quietly supports the shared lives of animals, caretakers, and the land they inhabit.'

compartments4.com

The critical establishment has never quite known what to do with Satish Gujral. Born in 1925, deaf since the age of eight, trained under Diego Rivera and celebrated across five decades as muralist, printmaker and sculptor – the story practically writes itself as one of disciplinary restlessness. But to read his architecture as a late-career diversion, the caprice of a polymath, is to misunderstand entirely the nature of his formal intelligence. He had always been building.

The world of Satish Gujral

The thesis demands stating plainly: Gujral's buildings are not buildings that look like sculpture. They are sculpture at tectonic scale – spaces conceived through relief, mass and the slow grammar of load-bearing material. Where his murals compress landscape and memory into a single plane, his architecture unfolds those same energies into three dimensions and makes them walkable. The discipline changed. The vocabulary did not.

Landmark building: the Belgian Embassy in New Delhi

No single building makes the argument more powerfully than the Embassy of Belgium in New Delhi's Chanakyapuri, designed after Gujral won an international competition and built between the late 1970s and early 1980s. Spread across a sloping five-acre site, the complex – comprising Chancery, residences and a sunken tennis court half-swallowed by the earth – announces itself not through a façade but through a landscape of interconnected brick forms.

Stand at the entrance, and you feel, before you understand, that this is not a building approached frontally. It gathers you in obliquely through terraces that step with the gradient, past brick walls carrying no ornament beyond their own stacked weight. Three turrets anchor the residence like geological outcrops. Barrel vaults shade the verandas, tempering Delhi's heat with shadow rather than glass. At the heart, intersecting vaults form a skylit room – recalling neither the Mughal court nor the Le Corbusian free plan, but the chambered interior of a hand-built form.

In a global post-war moment still wrestling with the International Style's aftermath, the Belgian Embassy design landed in a distinct conversation. Its tectonic weight had the civic earnestness of Louis Kahn; its brick as structure and surface recalled the late Alvar Aalto. But Gujral brought something those modernist architecture masters did not: a sculptor's compulsion to make mass speak emotionally, to treat the wall not as enclosure but as primary subject. The influence of Carlo Scarpa – absorbed through (Satish's architect son) Mohit Gujral's sensitivity to material transitions – surfaces in the articulation of joints and planes. The result is architecture simultaneously monumental and intimate, civic and body-scaled.

Architectural approach: relief as a method

To understand Gujral's architecture, begin not with Belgium but with the city of Modi Nagar, where a sculpture commission evolved into his first major building: a factory and guesthouse for industrialist BK Modi in the early 1970s. The guesthouse is embedded in its landscape, sunken courts drawing light downward rather than deflecting it with a wall. Segmented brick-clad arches describe the structure; the factory responds with bold triangular concrete frames. Moving through these spaces feels like inhabiting a sectional drawing translated into three dimensions.

The same logic recurs at the CMC Campus near Golconda Fort – where buildings grow organically from existing rock formations rather than displacing them – and at the Ambedkar Sthal in Lucknow, where Buddhist stupa geometry and mandala ordering principles translate not into symbolic ornament but into the massing itself: platforms, axes, rising red sandstone volumes functioning as spatial argument rather than civic decoration.

What connects Modi Nagar to Chanakyapuri to Hyderabad is not style but method. Gujral's architecture is organised by the logic of relief – incremental projection and recession of planes, shadow choreographed to make a wall readable as a surface in time. The arches are not structural quotations; the vaults are not historical gestures. They are spatial devices that shape how light enters, how bodies move, how memory adheres to material.

A legacy awaiting its architecture-first reading

Gujral died in 2023. The retrospectives came through familiar frames: painter, muralist, cultural titan. The architecture remained peripheral – acknowledged but not examined on its own terms. This is the critical gap. The Belgian Embassy alone – its inhabitable masonry, vaulted interiors, terraced landscape refusing to separate building from ground – merits the sustained architectural analysis that only a visually led, annotation-rich treatment can offer.

What that reading reveals is not an artist who wandered into architecture, but a tectonic intelligence always present – in the relief surfaces of his murals, in the mass-and-void tensions of his sculpture, in the way he understood space as something felt in the body before it is processed by the mind. Satish Gujral did not switch disciplines. He simply found, at a certain scale, that the material could finally hold the full weight of what he had always been trying to say.

‘Satish Gujral 100: World of Architecture’ is on show at Gujral House until 23 March 2026

gujralfoundation.org

Welcome to our annual gathering of the globe’s most galvanising design projects. It’s a journey of creative exploration that’s perfectly captured in our cover story – a spectacular Las Vegas home that’s a masterclass in melding mediums, eras and themes, a polyglot approach reflected in the rest of the issue.

We’ve noted that the legacy of modernism, and its later evolution, brutalism, remains as strong as ever, so we’ve chosen to explore how 20th-century properties, such as Casa Arosio on Italy’s Ligurian coast and the futuristic Pyramid House in Milton Keynes, are being reimagined for the 21st century.

In the same spirit, we head to Germany to mark the recent centenary of a seminal Frankfurt housing programme – an auspicious moment for the city as it celebrates its role as World Design Capital this year (for those thinking of visiting, we offer our own guide to Frankfurt too).

We also unveil a collection of modernist archival pieces by Milan silverware brand San Lorenzo, which are now available exclusively through luxury e-tailer Abask.

Meanwhile, with brutalism now feeling more prominent in the creative world than ever (and with the news that London’s Southbank Centre has finally achieved Grade II-listed status), we ask Modernist Estates author Stefi Orazi to write about the movement’s origins and meaning today.

Elsewhere, we drop in to YY, the London-based studio led by Tawanda Chiweshe and Francisco Gaspar, whose notions of research and exchange continue to inform their work; and we shine a spotlight on Dutch designer Hella Jongerius, who is throwing off the shackles of commercial projects to focus on more personal work.

We also visit a verdant Gujarati plot that puts its abundant foliage at the centre of a contemporary country retreat, cast an envious eye over the new Chinatown offices of New York-based architecture firm Bonetti/Kozerski, and meet Tadashi Kawamata, the latest artist to be invited to collaborate with champagne house Ruinart for its ‘Conversations with Nature’ series.

And pulling all these peregrinations together is our Global Interiors story, for which our head of interiors, Olly Mason, traverses six continents (digitally speaking) to capture bold new idioms in furniture, lighting and product design.

Bill Prince
Editor-in-Chief

The April 2026 Global Interiors Issue of Wallpaper* is available in print on newsstands, on the Wallpaper* app on Apple iOS, and to subscribers of Apple News + from 5 March 2025. Subscribe to Wallpaper* today

It hardly seems possible in a world as intensely documented as ours that there remains a corner of New Delhi that, whilst familiar, perhaps, to architects and insiders, might be barely known to the rest of us. Locals call it Steinabad – a district unified by the work of a single man, an American modernist who arrived in India in the early 1950s not by design but by necessity, fleeing the long arm of McCarthyism. That man was Joseph Allen Stein, and his legacy – a collection of low-rise, beautifully shaded cultural institutions softened with stone, water and lush landscaping – looms quietly in the shadow of Lutyens' imperial grandeur.

Explore Joseph Allen Stein's work with Architourian

The son of Eastern European Jewish immigrants, Stein passed through some of the most charged creative institutions of mid-century America – among them the Cranbrook Academy of Art, where Finnish architect Eliel Saarinen had established a fierce tradition of handcraft, and the Los Angeles studio of Richard Neutra, where California modernism was being quietly reinvented for a new climate and a new society. His work on low-cost housing with Gregory Ain brought him the wrong kind of attention, and by 1950, with McCarthy's shadow lengthening, America was no longer a comfortable place to be. Serendipitously, Jawaharlal Nehru’s newly independent nation was then building itself from scratch, and Stein – arriving in 1952 with modernist architecture in his bones and a pragmatist's respect for local stone, craft and punishing heat – proved exactly the architect the moment required.

Three-quarters of a century later, Architourian, a boutique architecture travel outfit founded by Ian Macready, has made Steinabad a cornerstone of its India itinerary. Macready, who spent three decades navigating London's design world before launching what he describes as ‘a very small new company’, leads intimate tours that weave together architecture, food and travel, the whole enterprise echoing, as he puts it, ‘the ideas behind Wallpaper* magazine’, and all without ever tipping into boot-camp territory.

India, Macready explains, was the natural starting point for Architourian. 'There is an extraordinary story to tell about the last hundred years,’ he says, ‘from Lutyens' Delhi to Le Corbusier's Chandigarh to the handcrafted work of [Studio Mumbai's] Bijoy Jain, where each one stands almost in opposition to the other.’

The Steinabad walk – a few hours, three sites, one auto-rickshaw ride – is offered as an introduction to a broader seven-night journey through Delhi, Chandigarh and the Himalayan foothills. Vicky Thornton, director of London architecture practice Allies and Morrison and one of the early tour participants, describes Steinabad as ‘a completely unexpected revelation of extraordinary buildings’.

Finland is next on the horizon, timed to coincide with the 50th anniversary of the death of Alvar Aalto, with Ahmedabad – home to works by Le Corbusier, Louis Kahn and the great Indian modernists Charles Correa and BV Doshi – earmarked to follow.

Discussing Joseph Allen Stein with Architourian

W* sat down with Macready to talk about Stein, the art of architectural pilgrimage, and what the rest of the world still has to learn from a building that knows how to make you breathe.

Wallpaper*: You’ve built an entire travel company around the idea that architecture can be experienced rather than just studied. What is Architourian, exactly?

Ian Macready: It echoes in many ways the ideas behind Wallpaper* in the combination of design, art and architecture alongside food and travel. It's very much not intended to be an architecture boot camp. We travel in some style with a focus on looking at how architecture can shape, and be shaped by, the ambitions of the society.

W*: And how did it come about?

IM: In my previous life, I worked in a small design and architecture studio where we were lucky enough to work on designing a new house in Chandigarh and on a resort project started by Bijoy Jain of Studio Mumbai, some 80 kilometres away up in the mountains. I ended up one evening at this resort – the Amaya, in the Himalayan foothills – having a perfect dinner with the client and falling into a conversation about the diversity of architecture in India. We realised that there is an extraordinary story to tell about the last hundred years, from Lutyens' Delhi to Le Corbusier's Chandigarh to the handcrafted work of Bijoy Jain, where each one stands almost in opposition to the other. That conversation became Architourian.

W*: What does the tour actually look like in practice and who comes on it?

IM: So far, I offer one core tour: a seven-night trip starting in New Delhi, then Chandigarh, and finally a few nights up in the hills at the Amaya, where star chef Prateek Sadhu offers his extraordinary take on contemporary Himalayan cuisine. The tours are curated to work for people with anything from a fleeting interest in design to the total geek, though they are emphatically not for the completist. We do not tick off every building in town. To date, we've completed five trips, including one specially designed for a group of friends who were in India to attend a wedding. This summer we're heading to Finland – it’s the 50th anniversary of the death of Alvar Aalto, and Finland remains one of Europe's most under-explored countries for architecture and food lovers.

W*: The Steinabad walk is a newer addition. How does it fit into the broader itinerary?

IM: I came across Steinabad relatively recently, and I’ve introduced it as an add-on for guests arriving for the main tour. Visitors spend the first afternoon walking around the vicinity of the hotel to understand the rather remarkable story of this American architect leaving such a concentrated legacy in one corner of New Delhi. It's a few hours covering three sites: the India Habitat Centre, the India International Centre, and then a quick auto-rickshaw ride up to the stunning arts centre, Triveni Kala Sangam. The next tours start again from October.

W*: How much access do you actually get to these buildings?

IM: Access is one of those tricky things. Generally a call in advance, and if nothing is taking place in the buildings, we're usually allowed inside. In Chandigarh, I'm very lucky because my local contact has been working in tourism since the Unesco World Heritage designation was given in 2016 to Le Corbusier's set pieces – he’s a well-known figure and can organise fantastic access to the most important sites.

W*: Le Corbusier gets Chandigarh, the textbooks, the pilgrimages. Joseph Allen Stein gets relative obscurity. Why has history been so much kinder to one than the other?

IM: Le Corbusier is arguably the greatest architect of the twentieth century, and his work and ideas continue to influence architectural practice today – though the results of that influence have not always been well executed. He placed himself, in the 1920s and 1930s, right at the heart of the debate about the future of architecture and city planning. Stein, by contrast, ended up in India in order to escape the politics of the early 1950s United States. The fact that he managed to design such high-quality, elegant works is a testament to his perseverance, and to the political and economic landscape of India as a newly independent nation. Different places, different times, different motivations – these explain their very different legacies.

W*: Stein arrived in India carrying the DNA of California modernism and a deep commitment to affordable housing. How much of that political and social background made it into his Indian buildings?

IM: He arrived at a time when India needed new cultural, educational and institutional buildings urgently. His architecture used the language of openness – courtyards, shaded plazas, bridges – realised in straightforward, economical materials: brick, stone, concrete. The buildings are modest and do not dominate their surroundings. They are also acutely sensitive to the brutal heat of a Delhi summer. That instinct for economy and climate responsiveness goes all the way back to his work in California with Gregory Ain, designing homes that ordinary families could actually afford to live in.

W*: Delhi is full of grand colonial monuments and Lutyens-era pomp. What made Stein's approach so radical – or so quietly subversive – in that context?

IM: Stein was exactly that: a quiet radical. Nehru specifically wanted the architecture of independent India to stand in direct contrast to what had gone before. It's also worth pointing out that there were very few qualified architects in India in the immediate post-independence era – only around 300. Stein, along with a handful of other American architects at the time, was able to be part of building a new vision for a secular, non-aligned state. The scale of that opportunity was enormous.

W*: To your earlier point about designing homes for ordinary families, Stein’s work is described as humanist and inclusive, but what does that actually mean when you're standing inside one of these buildings?

IM: Those terms are really a reflection of scale and circulation. The buildings encourage people to move through indoor and outdoor spaces fluidly and without hierarchy. They're set within green landscapes, which means that when you're in the middle of one of the world's most populous cities, they allow you to slow down and breathe a little. That's not a small thing.

W*: Steinabad is an unofficial district named after a single architect. It's a remarkable thing for a city to do. Can you think of anywhere else in the world where that's happened?

IM: Steinabad sits within Lutyens' Delhi, which remains a descriptive rather than official title. There's rue Mallet-Stevens in Paris and Plaça de Gaudí in Barcelona – but let's face it, architects are, for some reason, often not especially popular. The fact that an entire neighbourhood carries Stein's name, even informally, says something rather significant about the affection Delhi holds for him.

W*: If there's one lesson contemporary architects – working anywhere in the world – should take from Stein and Steinabad, what is it?

IM: Be responsive to your location. Match your design ambition to the skill of the craftspeople who are already there. Do not impose unnecessary innovation. It sounds simple, but it is, of course, incredibly hard.

architourian.com

There are many galleries specialized in collectible design in New York. Clustered in neighbourhoods like Chelsea and Tribeca, these established platforms tend to focus on American, European and, to a certain extent, Brazilian design but few have ever exhibited work from South Asia. Cue House of Santal, a just-opened gallery filling in the sizable gap and offering the city's ever-voracious collector base something fresh.

Taking over a sprawling seventh floor office space in Midtown Manhattan, looking out over the Radio City Music Hall marquee, the gallery showcases a diverse array of one-off and limited-edition furnishings in carefully-staged vignettes.

'Uncovering these talents and what contemporary South Asian design has to offer has been an obsession of mine for over six years,' says founder Raksha Sanikam, who left a career in finance to join her family's construction business as an interior designer. It was through a master's degree at the Pratt Institute that she fine-tuned her interest in collectible design, cultivating her own expertise and shrewd curatorial eye.

Within the gallery, a central 'courtyard' evoking traditional Indian gathering places is used to present a tightly curated sampling of works, hinting at what’s on view in the more intimate annexes. A deep burgundy is used throughout on the entrance and display platforms, a move that evokes the colour of santal, the rare sandalwood and the gallery’s namesake.

The inaugural exhibit highlights 13 diverse Indian talents. 'The idea is to showcase modern works that are mostly handmade using different Indian crafts in new ways,' Sanikam explains. 'We don’t want to be antiques dealers and will only exhibit contemporary pieces, many of which reinterpret furniture typologies common in the region.'

Many of the designs on view cleverly incorporate recognized materials and ornamental flourishes but with a nuanced touch. A good example is Nynika Jhaveri, Anikesa Dhing, and Thamshangpha (Merci) Maku’s Fuzzy Bottom design, a 'playful take' on the ubiquitous Naga bench. The trio refined the familiar form and added playful tufted seat mats that perfectly fit into carved crevices.

Upasana Jain’s SS Cross Chair also stands out. The low-slung settee’s polished steel frame and lattice webbing conjures the traditional craft of woven mats popular across India. An equally gleaming piece is Aashka Desai’s organically formed Wall Sculpture Drava, made out of Tencel yarns and carved high density fibreboard finished using the age-old silver foiling, a technique also deeply rooted in India’s artisanal heritage.

Though the first show only features Indian talents, subsequent exhibitions will highlight work by talents hailing from neighbouring countries such as Bangladesh and Nepal.

The idea that a dedicated mobile store needs to be a sleek temple of minimalism or a blinking cavalcade of streaming media has been kicked to the curb by Nothing. The self-consciously iconoclastic London-based phone brand has opened its first store in India, picking the country’s tech capital, Bengaluru, as the best place to showcase its wares.

Nothing Store Bengaluru is arranged across two floors in a building on 100 Feet Road, in the heart of the city’s Indiranagar district. The company describes the 5,000 sq ft store as being inspired by ‘1970s factory assembly lines and workshops’, with a combination of industrial-grade furniture and fixtures, bold pop colours – especially Nothing’s signature red – set against the raw concrete interior of the building.

There’ s another element that sets the Bengaluru store apart from a conventional phone shop, which is a space for customers to personalise their own Nothing products – a big draw for a cult brand that already has a winning line in developing community editions with its burgeoning fanbase.

Another section of the space is given over to a studio, where content creators can record unboxings and other contemporary aspects of the tech-consumer eco-system. It’s also intended as a community ‘hangout zone’, with seating areas and a scattering of displays and even claw games to encourage people to stick about. Cultural and community activities will also be taking place in the store.

A coffee shop is another draw, further helping the brand get in sync with Bengaluru’s burgeoning creator community. All this will be available alongside the latest Nothing products – which include the upcoming Nothing Phone (4a) – as well as merchandise and products from the sub-brand CMF.

Other design elements tap into the bustling Indiranagar streetscape, such as the illuminated façade signage, red lighting and prominent insect sculptures inspired by the brand’s recent commercial imagery. It’s an appropriate spot for the brand’s first Indian outpost and only its second store after the original London store in Soho, which opened in 2022.

Future openings will see Nothing expand its retail presence in New York and Japan, all part of an aggressive expansion programme as the design-led company transitions from idiosyncratic small player into a serious contender in the crowded personal tech space.

Nothing Store Bengaluru, 660/1, 100 Feet Road, 1st Stage, Indiranagar, Bengaluru, Karnataka 560038 India, Nothing.Tech, @Nothing, @CMF.Tech

An image speaks a thousand words – and in this spirit, architecture makes the perfect vehicle to embody a position, make a statement or raise awareness. It is no surprise, therefore, that an ecological restoration and creative arts initiative, Aranyani in India, chose an architectural pavilion to illustrate its efforts and ambition, and 'deepen public connection to nature' in a bid to encourage more discussion – and action – around ecology. The result, the Aranyani Pavilion, is the inaugural structure of its kind, and it has just launched in New Delhi's Sunder Nursery gardens.

Explore the new Aranyani Pavilion in New Delhi 

Aranyani is an initiative founded in 2024 by conservation scientist and creative director Tara Lal, with a mandate to bring nature and humans closer together. Heritage and ancient wisdom are also key pillars for the organisation, which is named after the forest deity of the Rigveda (the sacred Vedic text that shaped early Indian ideas of nature). Bridging past and present, natural and human-made, Lal and her team decided to bring their ecological concerns to the built environment in the form of the Aranuani Pavilion – an annual commission.

'The idea emerged from time spent in sacred groves in Jaisalmer and Mawphlang, where I witnessed how conservation once lived inside ritual and community rather than policy. Those landscapes made me realise that restoration is not only a scientific act but a cultural and spatial one,' says Lal.

'When I founded Aranyani as an ecological restoration and creative arts initiative rooted in community, I always imagined that its work would eventually move beyond field sites and into shared public space. Architecture felt like a natural extension of that intention. It allows restoration science to become something you can physically enter. With the pavilion, Aranyani steps into the built environment for the first time, translating ecological research into a walk-through experience shaped by sacred geometry, material memory, and the dialogue between invasive and native species.'

The inaugural pavilion is titled Sacred Nature, and was conceived and speerheaded by Lal and designed in collaboration with emerging architecture studio T__M.space. Using sacred geometry and movement notions from the Indian culture, as well as drawing on the foundation's goals and the site's leafy setting, the new pavilion references the spatial logic of India’s sacred groves – rich, bio-diverse sanctuaries of local ecologies.

Lal elaborates on her choice of architects: 'For the first edition, I was looking for architects whose work could hold ecological thinking and material sensitivity together without becoming overly formal or detached from place. T__M.space’s practice merges digital craft with natural materials and sculptural form, and that felt aligned with the spirit of the pavilion.

'The collaboration grew from a conversation around sacred groves, spiral geometry, and the transformation of lantana into structure. The pavilion is conceived as an annual commission, and future editions will continue to be research-led, inviting architects who are willing to engage deeply with ecological context, local material intelligence, and the idea of architecture as a gathering space rather than a standalone object.'

The design was brought to life by makers The Works, led by Guillaume Lecacheux, and is complemented aurally by sound design from Gaurav Raina and Komorebi. Meanwhile, its physical manifestation is a spiral structure (think, a Fibonacci sequence floorplan), built using upcycled invasive Lantana camara, an invasive shrub brought to India by Portuguese and British colonial trade in the 18th century. Its latticed form is crafted by Ekarth Studio, and it is topped by a living, green canopy of some 40 native plant species.

The symbolic layering of the invasive Lantana beneath and the indigenous species above brings important conversations on India's colonial past to the foreground. 'The brief begins with ecology. Each pavilion must respond to a specific environmental question and be materially responsible in how it is realised. In this edition, that meant working with upcycled lantana camara, an invasive species introduced during colonial trade, and placing it in dialogue with a living canopy of native and naturalised plants,' says Lal.

'The structure had to be walkable, immersive, and able to host a public programme of talks, workshops, and performances so that it functions as a contemporary sacred grove. Continuity is also essential: the pavilion is not temporary in intention. After its presentation, it will be relocated to serve as a living classroom, and its plants redistributed into community-led environmental initiatives, ensuring that the project continues beyond its initial site.'

The structure has just opened its doors to the public and will remain on its site until 20 February 2026, brought to life not only by the visitors who will cross its threshold; a public programme of events and activations is also in the works, spanning performances, talks, workshops and guided tours that draw on both ecological and decolonial themes.

Lal says of her hopes for the venture: 'I hope visitors leave with a renewed sense of relationship to land. The spiral path slows the body, and the material contrast between invasive and native species makes visible the tensions within India’s landscapes today. At its centre, the shrine space recalls the monoliths of sacred groves, inviting pause and reflection. The pavilion is conceived to deepen public connection to nature and to open conversations around ecology, not as abstraction, but as something we move through and belong to. If it becomes a place where artists, scientists, architects, and neighbours gather and think differently about care and restoration, then it has done its work.'

The architects add: 'Our aim was to create a cohesive experience in which architectural geometry and materiality guide and immerse the visitor along a trajectory comparable to that of India’s sacred groves. We hope visitors take away the idea that architecture rooted in soft geometries and materials drawn directly from nature offers a powerful, and entirely achievable, alternative to conventional approaches.'

Following its closure at the Sunder Nursery, the Aranyani Pavilion is set to be transported and permanently installed at the Rajkumari Ratnavati Girls’ School in Jaisalmer, which was designed using local materials and sensibility by New York-based Diana Kellogg Architects in 2022.

'Sacred Nature,' Aranyani Pavilion, 4 - 20 February 2026, Sunder Nursery, New Delhi, India
t--m.space
aranyanilife.com

Three Sixty West is a new Mumbai residence which balances rich textures and cultural roots. The project was designed by Belgian architect Dieter Vander Velpen, who designed the layout of the 16,000 sq ft full-floor space.

Inside Three Sixty Degree West, a skyrise Mumbai apartment

The aim of the project was to create an effortless transition from the expansive space of luxury estates in India to seamlessly integrate with urban living, without compromise on comfort or privacy.

When the elevator doors open on the 45th floor, visitors are ushered down a foyer conceived like an art gallery, with artworks including the Harsha Durugadda sculpture, while Christophe Delcourt’s Teo Console helps to draw the eye towards the expansive skyline. The apartment, designed for a multigenerational family, balances vast entertaining areas with intimate corners.

Wooden claustra envelop the living room in a warm toned cocoon, balancing a mid century touch to the contemporary space. This is coupled with pieces like a De Sede armchair, Atelier Pendhapa coffee tables, and a Nova Chandelier from Schwung in the family dining room.

Materiality is at the epicentre of the design. This varies from European oak floors, walnut veneers, limestone accents and bronze detailing, to the Calacatta Viola marble fireplace, and bespoke cabinetry. Indoor-outdoor living also makes a playful appearance with indoor gardens and retractable windows to allow light and greenery to flow into the home.

The residence features two primary suites, each offering its own design identity — one is wrapped in green onyx with a sculptural tub set in front of full-height windows. Venturing deeper into the residence and beyond the private quarters, visitors can find the secondary bedrooms, family kitchen, media room, spa, gym and staff living areas.

The apartment's entirety was designed with Vastu principles in mind. An ancient Indian architectural science, it focuses on creating harmony by balancing the elements with natural directions for positive energy flow. For example, the primary bedrooms are found to the southwest, and the kitchen to the southeast.

The earthy colour palette of rich reds, and deep browns and greens ties the design together, further highlighting the interior’s elegant interplay of scale, texture and movement.

In the northern Indian city of Sonipat, environmentally conscious design takes on a highly expressive form. Dubbed The Hungry Caterpillar, this stately food stall concept was developed by Mumbai-based architecture firm Lyth Design, which sought to rethink the mobile kitchen typology through character and sustainability credentials.

The Hungry Caterpillar, Sonipat

Within the grounds of Ashoka University, 3D-printed concrete kitchens are enveloped by expansive bamboo gridshells that bend and rise with ambition, providing both shade and structure. ‘One visit to the site and I instantly visualised a cocoon nestled within lush tree canopies, a caterpillar leisurely feeding, feeling safe and at home,’ says Apoorva Shroff, founder and principal of Lyth Design.

However, Shroff did not want to focus solely on aesthetic values. The metaphor of the caterpillar, a creature known to be ‘an eating machine’, therefore suits the project naturally, given the repurposing and recycling processes that underpin its construction. Take, for example, the 3D-printed modules, which, by using a single material and following an automated process, reduce timelines while lowering energy use. Similarly, the weather-resistant outdoor seating was created by Placycle using recycled plastic waste.

Like a leaf twisting towards the sun, the surrounding bamboo shells curve in two directions to form a structure that is both light and strong. ‘The longest gridshell spans 19 metres, using four layers of bamboo, each oriented at 45 degrees, topped with a crushed mat, which makes the complex double curvature possible,’ explains Shroff.

Shroff hopes the otherworldly yet rooted setting will provide a space for curiosity, conversation and reflection. The structural design was led by Atelier One, London, with architectural detailing resolved by Jurian Sustainability, and built by Jans Bamboo, bringing the ‘caterpillar’ to life.

Rajiv Gandhi Education City, Kundli, Sonipat, Haryana, 131029, India

In the last 12 months, the most talked-about restaurants weren’t just about what was on the plate. Design took the lead, with new openings using architecture and interiors as part of the experience rather than polite scenery. Across cities and continents, former embassies, fortresses, office blocks and coastal sites were reworked into dining rooms with a clear point of view. The following Wallpaper* edit offers a snapshot of the spaces that redefined restaurant design this year.

The best restaurant design of 2025

Call Me Ten

Tucked within the refined, residential enclave of Vasant Vihar in New Delhi, Call Me Ten emerges as a 6,000 sq ft Japanese restaurant and bar. Designed by Renesa Architecture Design Interiors, the site is defined by a materially restrained but expressive language. Natural limestone plaster and stone aggregates anchor the space, while soft curves and muted tones create an interior that feels both serene and theatrical. Subtle nods to Japanese aesthetics run throughout, from Shoji-inspired partitions that diffuse light with gentle translucency to a layout informed by tatami logic, encouraging intimacy and order. Polished concrete floors lend contemporary clarity, offset by pockets of deep-toned, hand-crafted mosaic tiles. Complementing the design, the menu reinterprets Japanese tradition through a modern izakaya lens, pairing dishes such as miso black cod and pork belly with inventive, Asian-inflected cocktails.

Call Me Ten is located at 58, Market, Basant Lok, Vasant Vihar, New Delhi, Delhi 110057, India

Read our full review of Call Me Ten

Carbone London

Once Eero Saarinen’s modernist vision of American diplomacy, the former US Embassy reopened this year as The Chancery Rosewood. Appropriately, the Grade II-listed building now hosts Carbone, one of America’s most beloved restaurants, marking the brand’s first European outpost. Originating in New York’s Greenwich Village, Carbone is as renowned for its Italian-American classics as its A-list following. In London, designer Ken Fulk channels Rat Pack-era glamour across a two-level space rich in theatrical flourish: Carbone-blue panelling, hand-painted murals, burgundy velvet banquettes and marble mosaics set the scene. MoMA-calibre artworks, live music and an indulgent, ‘a piacere’, or ‘as you like it’ culinary approach complete an experience rooted in spectacle.

Carbone London is located at 30 Grosvenor Sq, London W1K 2LG, UK

Read our full review of Carbone London

Cento Raw Bar

Michelin-recognised Cento Pasta Bar has long been one of West Adams’ most elusive reservations; now, its sibling Cento Raw Bar opens next door, offering Angelenos a second, distinctly different experience from chef and co-owner Avner Levi. Designed by Brandon Miradi, also behind Somni, the space is defined by thickly plastered walls and ceilings, brushed into undulating waves that lend a quietly surreal, oceanic rhythm. The motif continues in curved ceilings, minimal metal barstools and custom tableware, while sculptural light fittings by Ukrainian studio ClayP add tactility overhead. At the centre, scallop-shaped seafood towers piled high with oysters, shrimp and lobster set the tone, alongside jewel-toned cocktails. Dessert leans playful, with mosaic cheesecake and a nostalgic chocolate cake finale.

Cento Raw Bar is located at 4919 W Adams Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90016, United States

Read our full review of Cento Raw Bar

Dévo Marseille

Designer Axel Chay’s totemic tubular steel forms have long embodied Marseille’s creative pulse; now, he and his wife Mélissa channel that energy into Dévo, a new restaurant and wine bar in the Préfecture neighbourhood. Named after the American new-wave band, it marks the duo’s first fully designed and art-directed space. Cocooning yet animated, the interior pairs contemporary lines with vintage patina: lime satin curtains sweep across concrete floors, offsetting a zinc bar and steel stools inspired by Italian cafés and Spanish vermuterias. Cinematic details abound: mirrored artworks by Aurélien Ciller, plaster seagulls in flight and bespoke lighting by Axel’s brother Aimeric. In the kitchen, chef Ferdinand Fravega serves relaxed Provençal dishes, paired with a 100-strong list of independent and natural wines.

Dévo Marseille is located at 22 Bd Paul Peytral, 13006 Marseille, France

Read our full review of Dévo Marseille

Elmina

In Washington DC, Elmina is the debut bricks-and-mortar venture of Ghanaian-American chef Eric Adjepong: a restaurant that celebrates modern Africa while acknowledging the complexities of its past. Its name carries weight, referencing the port that became the site of sub-Saharan Africa’s first European slave-trading post. Dreamt up by local studio Drummond Projects, the 3,720 sq ft, three-storey space reads as a fluid, immersive journey, with each space defined by material and colour references, unified by a sculptural curving stairwell and enriched with bespoke artworks, artisan textiles and warm, tactile finishes throughout. The food itself is deeply rooted in tradition, a love letter to Adjepong’s ancestors and recipes he grew up with. Experiences on offer span a five-course tasting menu, a chop bar selection and a hearty brunch, with standout dishes including the comfortingly smoky jollof duck pot.

Elmina is located at 2208 14th St NW, Washington, DC 20009, United States

Read our full review of Elmina

Restaurant Esperit Roca

Set within a 19th-century fortress on the hills outside Girona, Esperit Roca evokes the beauty of raw materials with a rugged yet refined touch. Part of a remote gastronomic complex by the Roca brothers, which also houses a 16-bedroom hotel, the restaurant overlooks the mountains, woodland and sea of northern Catalonia. Designed by Girona-based Andreu Carulla, the interiors are pared-back and elemental, shaped from stone, concrete and wood in muted greys and greens. Locally quarried piedra de Girona limestone forms sculptural counters, lamps and monolithic sinks, echoing the fortress itself. Midcentury-inspired furniture, agricultural textiles and pockets of greenery reinforce the connection to place. In the kitchen, Joan and Jordi Roca deliver concept-driven tasting menus that reinterpret local produce with rigour, poetry and surprise. Don’t miss the tasting menu that offers two main courses and six desserts.

Restaurant Esperit Roca is located at Carrer Major, Entrada 1, 17481 Sant Julià de Ramis, Girona, Spain

Read our full review of Restaurant Esperit Roca

Finlandia Bistro

Alvar Aalto’s modernist landmark, Finlandia Hall, now houses a new restaurant that allows guests to dine in surroundings that gently echo the architect’s enduring design language. In contrast to the hall’s light, open spaces, the bistro is warmly cocooned in deeper tones, soft fabrics and tactile textures. Designed by Fyra, the interior blends Finnish modernist classics with contemporary pieces from Finnish Design Shop, alongside bespoke built-ins. Deep blue curtains recall Finlandia Hall’s cobalt accents, while wood and brass details nod to Aalto’s modernism. Led by head chef Mikko Puuronen, the 64-seat restaurant serves Nordic-inspired dishes with subtle Mediterranean inflexions.

Finlandia Bistro is located at Mannerheimintie 13e, 00100 Helsinki, Finland

Read our full review of Finlandia Bistro

Jncquoi Fish

‘Where food meets fashion meets hospitality’ underpins Jncquoi, the Lisbon lifestyle hub launched in 2017 by Paula Amorim and Miguel Guedes de Sousa of the Amorim Luxury Group. While the brand’s first hotel, Jncquoi House (designed by Vincent Van Duysen), will open in 2026, its newest restaurant, Jncquoi Fish, already signals the next chapter. Beneath a neo-Moorish façade, the space unfolds in Van Duysen’s restrained language of marble, limestone and ceramics, with dark clay floors by Viúva Lamego and bespoke furnishings and lighting made in Portugal. Tables cluster around the open kitchen, where chefs António Bóia and Filipe Carvalho celebrate Atlantic seafood through refined Portuguese flavours, from caviar-topped cod fritters to blue lobster rice, complemented by an astute, terroir-driven wine programme and assured, indulgent desserts.

Jncquoi Fish is located at Av. da Liberdade 189 1, 1250-096 Lisboa, Portugal

Read our full review of Jncquoi Fish

Milló

On the ground floor of the ADNBA-designed Millo Offices in Bucharest’s business area, Milló explores how contemporary design can converse with history. Responding to the building’s art deco undertones, local studio AÉ02 shaped an interior defined by light, texture and material warmth. At its centre hangs a dramatic ‘volcano of light’: an illuminated feature suspended above the main dining table, shifting in tone throughout the day. LED strips trace the ceiling edges, sharpening geometry through light and shadow, while the bar counter pairs stainless steel with cherry Levanto marble, concealing a discreet DJ booth. The Mediterranean-leaning menu – think baked artichoke, saffron risotto and miso-marinated cod – completes the experience, encouraging guests to linger from midday through to midnight.

Milló is located at Strada Ion Câmpineanu 19, Bucharest 030167, Romania.

Read our full review of Milló

Rubra

Hotel restaurants rarely transcend the orbit of the properties they inhabit, but on the northern edge of Banderas Bay, Rubra decisively breaks that pattern. Part of W Punta de Mita, the restaurant is led by Daniela Soto-Innes, who was named World’s Best Female Chef in 2019. At just 28, she was the youngest chef to earn the accolade. Designed by Ignacio Urquiza with interiors by Ana Paula de Alba, Rubra takes the form of a sand-toned concrete monolith, its restrained architecture softened by creeping greenery and expansive views towards the Sierra Madre. A pergola of wooden lattices filters light across an open, fluid dining room, blurring indoors and out. Soto-Innes’ ‘tropical cooking’ draws from seasonal produce, much of it grown on site, shaping menus that favour citrus, herbs and vivid coastal flavours, from scallops dressed in kombu aguachile to flower-crowned tuna tostadas.

Rubra is located at Carr. Federal la Cruz de Huanacaxtle - Punta de Mita Km 8.5, Desarrollo Costa, 63734 Corral del Risco, Nay., Mexico

Read our full review of Rubra

Ahmedabad is indifferent to the camera. It does not curate itself for the visitor; it simply functions. To call it an architectural haven in India is true, but insufficient. It does not offer the pristine, frozen modernist architecture of a textbook but something far more honest. Like many places in India, it is a city of wild juxtaposition.

Tour Ahmedabad architecture with us

In Ahmedabad, the intricate stone lattice of a 15th-century mosque engages in a quiet, unselfconscious dialogue with the raw concrete of Le Corbusier. The city's density and diversity of design are no accident; they are the result of a merchant class that possessed a rare intellectual appetite, inviting visionaries like Louis Kahn, Balkrishna V Doshi, and Charles Correa to build institutions. The city has since metabolised them all. Buildings here are lived-in, weathered, and constantly renegotiated by the people who use them.

The modernist anchors

Sangath (aka Balkrishna V Doshi’s office)

Built in 1981, Sangath has been a nurturing place for many of India’s great architects. Doshi buried the building to escape the heat, creating a series of vaulted, China-mosaic roofs. Inside, the light is diffused and cavernous. The gardens and a very interesting path lead visitors to the main building. Each space, each element has a story related to Doshi, or the artisans who built it. It feels less like a workspace and more like a pause in the city’s chaos, which grew over time. It now houses Vastu Shilpa Sangath, Vastu Shilpa Foundation, and Studio Sangath.

Access: There is a dedicated ticketing window for architects and students willing to visit the campus. Bring identification.

IIM Ahmedabad

Built in 1969-74, Louis Kahn’s brick monolith is ageing with dignity, as well as controversy over its conservation. The famous circular arches are impressive, but the real architecture is in the shadows and the silence. Kahn was challenging the traditional models of education and felt that classrooms were just the beginning of learning and not the heart of academic institutions. This led him to design the campus, which focused on learning inside, as well as outside.

Access: Visitors require prior permission to visit the campus.

ATMA House (Mill Owners’ Association Building)

This is Le Corbusier’s Promenade Architecturale facing the Sabarmati River. Built in 1954, the Mill Owners' Association Building was designed as a machine for viewing a river that has since been tamed and concreted over. It was designed at a time when Ahmedabad had a thriving textile industry. The deep brise-soleil cuts the harsh midday sun into manageable, cool slices. ATMA house is also the place to host exhibitions, design events, etc, throughout the year.

Sardar Patel Stadium

A concrete icon of post-independence India, this 1966 structure defines the collaboration between Charles Correa and engineer Mahendra Raj. It is currently in a fragile state and facing an uncertain future. It is essential to see it, even from the perimeter, as a reminder that even the most innovative concrete is not immortal.

The campus ecosystem

CEPT University & Library

This is the soul of Ahmedabad’s design community. Its architect, Balkrishna Doshi, envisioned it as a campus without walls, and it remains true to that ethos. I always find myself wandering into the studios or the new Lilavati Lalbhai Library by RMA Architects. The spaces are informal, porous, and constantly buzzing with life and thought. The campus and the library often host exhibitions of students’ work and are worth visiting.

Amdavad ni Gufa

Next door to CEPT lies this ferro-cement collaboration between Pritzker-winning Doshi and one of the most famous Indian artists, MF Husain. It defies standard geometry. Constructed using wire-frame armatures and local labour, its snake-like forms create an underground cavern lit by snout-like light cannons. It is also a beloved public space; inside, you are likely to find design students studying the space at any time. Last time I went there, I met an old flute player who visits every day with his grandson. While he plays the flute, his grandson plays tag among the columns.

Kanoria Centre for Arts

A brick-walled gateway to the arts, right on the campus edge. It functions almost like a decompression zone between the institutional open spaces and the main road. Go for the gallery, to see the artists in their element; stay for the quiet courtyards and nice chai.

Centre for Environment Education (CEE)

Designed by architect Neelkanth Chhaya, the campus is an inspiration in building around nature, preserving the landscape. The structures manoeuvre through a heavily forested, contoured site. You descend through the canopy into labyrinthine spaces that feel entirely hidden from the city. Last time I visited, I chanced upon the on-site Aarambh Café. It's a must-visit place serving food made of local millets. Stop there for a pause from the urban grid and good coffee. If you want to have a nice local lunch, visit Kamla - right across CEE’s campus. Kamla is Ngo SEWA’s social enterprise centred on nutritious food.

The social conscience

Gandhi Smarak Sangrahalaya

A pilgrimage site for architects, this was Indian master architect Charles Correa’s breakout project in 1963. The museum, housed in the campus where Mahatma Gandhi lived (Sabarmati Ashram), reimagines the vernacular through a modernist lens, utilising a modular 6m concrete grid and pyramidal roofs to house Gandhi’s letters and photographs. The design is deliberately porous; open courtyards and breezeways ensure the building breathes, blurring the lines between the built environment and the surrounding landscape. It is modest, evolving, and meditative, a perfect spatial echo of the Mahatma’s life.

Conflictorium

This 'Museum of Conflict' (aimed at addressing issues of conflict through art) is an adaptive reuse project located in the Gool Lodge in the old city. The exhibition design serves as a vessel for uncomfortable conversations. Envisioned and designed by Interdisciplinary practitioner Avni Sethi, the space is tight, intimate, and forces confrontation with the city’s complex social history.

Arthshila

Arthshila is an important addition to the city's cultural landscape; it was designed by Bandook Smith Studio. Interestingly, it's an adaptive reuse of a house that was also designed by the same studio. Arthshila is a dedicated arts centre that acts as a public living room for creatives. With an excellent design/architecture library and exhibition spaces, it’s a polished but welcoming venue for design dialogue.

Sarkhej Roza

Le Corbusier called it the Acropolis of Ahmedabad, but it feels more grounded than that. A complex of mosques and tombs that merges Islamic geometry with Hindu craftsmanship. It is less about the object and more about the void of the courtyards, the tank, and the deep shadows of the colonnades.

Gun House

Gun House is an interesting case study of how buildings live their lives. It is another Correa project that has been entirely swallowed up by the city. Originally built for the Rifle Association, it is now a collision of a gym, a garment workshop, and retail shops. The diagrid structure remains, but the infill is pure Ahmedabad chaos. It is the perfect example of how architecture survives by adapting.

Birdhouses (Chabutas)

You will see these dotted throughout the city. They are ornate, elevated towers built for feeding and sheltering birds. In a city obsessed with land value, these are stubborn, beautiful monuments to interspecies co-living.

Ravivari (Sunday Market)

Ravivari (Sunday Market) is a temporary, shifting city of tarpaulin that erupts every Sunday on the riverfront, with sellers selling everything second-hand, from used furniture and clothes to cameras. Dating back to the 15th century, Ravivari migrated from the Old City to the Sabarmati banks in 1954, where it remains a goldmine for the design-obsessed. It is the go-to spot for sourcing second-hand curiosities. The sellers here are culturally attuned, too; don’t be surprised if they recognise your architectural/designer gaze and ask if you belong to the local design fraternity of CEPT or NID.

Fuel & pause

Lucky Restaurant

The ultimate exercise in making do. The owner chose not to move the graves on the site (the venue is located within a burial ground), so he built the restaurant around them. You sip chai and eat bun maska while sitting next to a painted green grave. An MF Husain painting hangs casually on the wall. Hussain was a frequent visitor to Lucky.

Kasturbhai Lalbhai Museum

Rahul Mehrotra’s restoration of this 1905 estate is almost invisible from the main road. A colonial mansion pairs with a new, minimal gallery, both dissolving into the lush vegetation. Inside, the collection is vast and eclectic, spanning from Persian and Mughal miniatures to Tibetan Thangkas and the modernism of the Bengal School. Look for the art deco furniture when you visit. Sharing the estate’s Claude Batley wing is the Arvind Indigo Museum. This is the world’s first institution dedicated to the celebration of a single colour. It features the work of various contemporary artists working with indigo and is housed in the many galleries. It is an exploration of 'blue' in all its material possibilities.

Access to Kasturbhai Lalbhai Museum is limited to four guided tours daily (closed Mondays). Advance booking via email is essential. Indigo Museum is Open daily 10 am – 5 pm (closed Mondays). Located at the Kasturbhai Lalbhai Museum complex.

The first time I went to Sandeep Virmani and Sushma Iyengar’s house was in 2015, as an intern at the sustainability non-profit Hunnarshala Foundation in Bhuj, still trying to work out what architecture even meant when it wasn’t wrapped in glass and clad in aluminium sheets. Bhuj itself felt like a threshold: a desert town between the Rann and the Gulf of Kutch, ringed by Bhujia hill with its fort and snake legends, stitched together by craft villages and post-earthquake reconstruction stories.

Someone at the office said, almost casually: 'Come in the evening, we’ll go to Sandeep bhai’s place.' I didn’t know then that this was going to be the house I would keep returning to for the next decade – to share good news, to ask for difficult advice, to sit quietly when I didn’t know what to do with my life.

Explore the house of Sandeep Virmani and Sushma Iyengar in Bhuj

Sushma and Sandeep's house (Sushma ben and Sandeep bhai, as everyone calls them) does not announce itself. In a society rapidly filling up with glossy, compound-walled homes and sliding gates, it sits low and almost shy. There is no big gate, no grand driveway. You arrive in a small mud court, slightly uneven with Kolams and rangoli on the floor. From here, the first thing you see is the kitchen window.

That window became my weather report for the evening. If the oven was on and Sushma or Sandeep were moving around inside, it usually meant a nice hot cake would be served. She insists both of them are against too much machinery – no microwave, no washing machine, minimal appliances – but the oven is fully accepted as a co-conspirator in feeding people. More than once, I arrived to find a cake cooling on the counter, vegetables chopped for dinner, and the house already smelling like it was expecting guests. It always has guests.

On the other side of the house, a very different domestic drama plays out. There’s a small A-frame shelter on a sand patch: Assistant’s house. Assistant is a street dog Sandeep looks after, named as the sidekick to a bigger dog called Fuddu. This is a home that quietly extends itself to others – dogs, cats, birds, whoever passes through.

A circle in a cow’s mouth

Sushma and Sandeep told me, laughing, that they bought the plot no one wanted. It is what in local parlance is called a Gaumukh plot - wide at the front, narrow at the back, like a cow’s face. The frontage stretches generously along the street, then tapers into a tight corner. Traditionally, people avoid such plots. They’re awkward to plan, perceived as inauspicious, and structurally tricky. Which is exactly why this one was slightly cheaper, and exactly why they wanted it.

Behind the site lies a common plot of the neighbouring colony, left unbuilt for years. On two sides, other plots were bought but never developed. At one point, for almost 15 years, their house had emptiness on all four sides. 'We chose it, because we knew we would have openness,' Sushma said. Even now, with one big neighbour finally built, three sides remain open enough for wind, light and gossip to move freely.

Faced with this odd, tapering plot, Sandeep drew a circle. 'I thought a circle would work well,' he told me. 'In this awkward shape, it allows the spaces to flow easily.' The circle pulled the structure inward, freeing the edges to negotiate the strange boundary lines. As a student, he had once designed a dancer’s circular house. 'That was the only organic design I had done,' he remembers. It never got built. Years later, after working with Pritzker award-winning modernist architecture master Balkrishna Doshi, with Laurie Baker (India's Gandhian architect), and for years with craftsmen across Kutch, this modest circle finally gave that early instinct a home.

The plan starts with a courtyard. 'First we made the courtyard,' Sandeep says, 'and then we made rooms around it.' Two main bedrooms and a guest room are strung along the arc, with the kitchen facing the street. That last bit is non-negotiable: 'We spend most of our time in the kitchen,' he says. 'You should be able to see who is coming and going.'

Air, fruit and small mistakes

When Sandeep talks about the house, he keeps circling back to the climate. 'I wanted to design a house where there is no need for an air conditioner,' he says simply. The idea was straightforward: use orientation, materials, trees and openings in such a way that the house cools and heats itself as far as possible.

Kutch is a place of extremes: blazing days, cooler nights, strong winds. The veranda, where most of life in this house happens, is oriented roughly south–west, aligned with the prevailing winds. Sandeep planted trees in front of it so that their shade falls on the walls and roof while still allowing wind to slip underneath. The two main rooms face east and west, reducing direct solar exposure on their longer faces. Small windows on the south, big windows on the north.

Between the veranda and the inner courtyard, the house forms what Sandeep describes as a Venturi [the Venturi effect presents when air or fluid speeds up through a narrow, constricted vessel section]. Because the two-bedroom walls are wider outside and slightly pinched where they meet the veranda, air speeds up as it passes through. On hot evenings, when everyone gathers there, you can feel the wind accelerate, wrap itself around people, cats, conversations, and plates of food.

Has it all worked perfectly? No, and they are the first to point this out. 'In our room, it stays nice,' Sandeep admits. 'In the other room, not so much.' In that second bedroom, he placed the bathroom on the windward side. The breeze that should have cooled the room now mostly cools the bathroom. 'The bathroom should have been on the other side,' he shrugs.

He is more satisfied with the overall metaphor. 'The idea was also that it’s like a fruit,' he told me. 'From the outside, it is hard, black. From the inside, it is soft and red.' The outside walls are dark, built in rough stone and plaster, the roofline low. Inside, the floors are white terrazzo, the walls lime-washed, the courtyard glowing.

Materials here are less about style and more about relationships. The structure is a layering of modest experiments: an early thatch roof that had to be replaced with tiles after Diwali fireworks repeatedly threatened to set it on fire; a thin ferrocement layer on wooden ‘lost shuttering’; small steel trusses hugging the outside of the circle so they don’t visually clutter the inside. A local potter made earthen pots for filler slabs after Sandeep and Sushma brainstormed with Jinan, a potter from Kerala who briefly worked with them in Bhuj, exploring how Kutch crafts could enter architecture.

The house was under construction during the devastating 2001 earthquake in Bhuj. The front veranda, then an added-on element whose beams hadn’t yet been tied in, collapsed. Inside, the central veranda shook so violently that afterwards they decided to add slender columns, not to carry a load but to hold the roof in place in the next big tremor. The house remembers the quake in its bones, but it also remembers the slow rebuilding of Bhuj around it - its residents were at the forefront during the post-earthquake rehabilitation.

Sushma’s no-wall dream

If the circle started with Sandeep’s sketch, the openness inside belongs very much to Sushma. 'I have always liked round houses,' she told me. 'And the one thing I just don’t like is walls.' Long before she moved to Kutch and worked with women’s organisations and craft communities across the region, she dreamt of a round, wall-less home. When she and Sandeep discovered that they both secretly liked round houses, the decision took care of itself.

The resulting plan is almost radically open. Their bedroom, kitchen and the living space form a single flowing space. Only the guest room is fully enclosed, and even that opens directly onto the shared veranda, not onto some closed corridor.

'I remember we had a lot of discussions on walls,' Sushma said. Sandeep and their friend Kiran Waghela eventually convinced her to accept one partial wall, a small curved screen between their bathroom door and the rest of the room, just enough to give privacy when stepping out of the bath. 'That was the only wall,' she laughs. 'And even that we made only half.'

For a while, when Sandeep’s mother was unwell, her full-time caregiver lived with them. They added a small room at the back for him. Then the daily navigation of privacy was real: whoever came to the kitchen inevitably crossed visual lines with the bedroom.

And yet, the same layout that complicates privacy also produces one of the most generous gestures in the house: the way the veranda sits between their bedroom and the guest room. 'This thing I would repeat anywhere,' Sushma says. 'To have the room opposite and the veranda in between.' A guest wakes up, steps straight into the veranda, and has immediate access to the sky, plants, chairs, and people. You’re not trapped in your room waiting for the household to wake up, nor are you forced into the kitchen the moment you step out. You can sit alone with a book or join whoever’s there.

'It gives a lot of freedom,' she says. 'For a guest, it’s like you are almost living in your own space. For us, it gives distance and intimacy, both.'

Gandhi Ashram chairs and circular drawers

For two people who wanted minimal furniture, their house has accumulated a surprising amount of it – almost all with stories.

'We were totally against furniture,' Sushma says. Early on, they solved seating simply by turning the architecture itself into furniture. Stone slabs run along curved walls, forming continuous seats by the bay window, in the living room, even outside. Then her mother came to stay. By then already elderly, she found the stone benches too hard, too low. 'She said, "You have turned this place into Gandhi Ashram”,' Sushma recalls her indicating the modesty of the house. 'Bring some proper chairs, then I will come back.'

Years later, after both her parents and Sandeep’s mother passed away, the couple inherited two armchairs from her family home – their parents’ first big purchase after marriage. Those chairs now sit in the veranda, seventy-five years old and still firm, the designated thrones for ageing knees.

Curved walls demand curved solutions. A carpenter from Ahmedabad built a semicircular dining table that tucks perfectly into the bay window niche, flat on one side and rounded on the other. In the kitchen, opposite the stove, a marble-topped platform floats on tapered wooden legs, its drawers following the arc of the wall. Even outside the bathroom, the storage unit is subtly curved, the carpenter having figured out how to bend function around geometry.

They also made an early political choice about storage: as few cupboards as possible. 'The more cupboards you keep, the more stuff will accumulate,' Sushma says. They have one cupboard in their bedroom, shared between them, and one larger cupboard in the guest room.

Books, inevitably, broke this rule. Initially stored in two Russian kitchen cabinets that Sandeep’s mother had brought back decades ago, they kept multiplying. During COVID, they finally gave in and turned an entire stretch into a work table with a book wall above. It’s one of the few places in the house where a modern, city-like density of objects appears.

In the washing area outside, instead of the typical low Indian washing platform where you squat or bend awkwardly, they built a tall, gently sloping basin inspired by Sushma’s uncle’s house in Bangalore. He had designed it for ageing bodies that could no longer sit on haunches. They copied it almost exactly. For a home without a washing machine, this one move has probably saved hundreds of aching backs over the years.

Wire mesh, and the long view

Not everything here is soft and crafted. Some details are brutally pragmatic. The window grills, for example. If you look closely, they are not delicately designed bars but simple weld mesh sheets, the kind you might use to fence a construction site. 'Really horrible,' Sushma calls them, half-joking, 'but they have lasted 25 years.'

The story behind them is less funny. When the couple finally shifted into the house, much work was still unfinished. No grills, some windows missing, the surroundings empty. Then Sushma’s father passed away, just five days after they moved in. She rushed away; Sandeep followed soon after. Before catching his flight, worried about leaving his mother alone in an exposed house in a half-built colony, he grabbed the quickest solution he could find: weld mesh on every opening. The 'temporary' fix never got replaced.

It’s easy to imagine this house in any architecture magazine as 'a circular eco-home in Kutch.' But for me, it has always been less about its photogenic moments and more about its long, patient relationships: with wind, with neighbours, with non-human visitors, with grief.

Sandeep, who has spent decades working with communities to rebuild and reimagine habitats after disasters, often talks in public lectures about 'humanising architecture,' shifting the focus from objects to processes, from monuments to everyday lives. Sushma’s life’s work with rural women’s collectives, craftspeople and pastoralists has been about similar questions of dignity, access and agency.

This house sits at the intersection of those two trajectories. It is not a showcase project; they never put it into lectures for years because it felt too private. Locals from the colony come, admire it, call it 'beautiful,' then go away and build straight-walled, boxy houses for themselves. 'They think this is a park,' Sandeep laughs.

One of the best circles I know

I have now visited many circular houses over the years, such as traditional Bhungas in Kutch, experimental eco-resorts, and dome homes. This house in Bhuj feels different. It’s gentler, more lived-in - and in its form, I still think it is one of the best examples of a circular plan I’ve experienced.

For me, it's a house I have arrived at in different moods, at different ages, carrying different questions. I’ve slept in the guest room across the veranda, woken early and crept out so as not to disturb anyone, only to find Sushma already making ginger tea and Sandeep feeding the cats in the courtyard.

If Jeanneret’s house in Chandigarh taught me about the quiet discipline of modernism, and the Kanade brothers’ house in Nagaj revealed the dignity of exposed stone and carefully honed proportion, this house in Bhuj has taught me something smaller and maybe harder: how architecture can be hospitable without being grand and experimental without being loud...

It’s easy to design a circle. It’s much harder to make one like this house. That’s the circle I keep going back to.

The annual Wallpaper* Design Awards issue features an honour roll of outstanding places, products and people; celebrating the power of design to lift spirits and improve lives. The City of the Year award spotlights the urban locations, making an impact in design, architecture and contemporary culture.

Discover the nominated locations below, and stay tuned for the winner, which will be announced in the next issue of Wallpaper* magazine on 8 January 2026.

Wallpaper* Design Awards 2026: City of the Year shortlist

Accra, Ghana

Ghana’s capital is entering a defining chapter, its creative momentum gathering pace after years of long-stated ambition. This year (2025), the team behind Limbo Accra established a new intellectual anchor for the city with Limbo Museum in Labone: a 600 sq m, two-storey transformation of an unfinished structure into a cultural hub, research lab and exhibition space where architecture and art converge. Across town, the opening of Dot.ateliers | Ogbojo by DeRoche Projects and TAELON7, serves as HQ for a writers’ and curators’ residency dedicated to rest, reflection and cross-continental exchange on Accra’s outskirts. Meanwhile, Lesley Lokko’s African Futures Institute (AFI) continues to evolve and push the trajectory further. And yet, as Ghanaian architect Alice Asafu-Adjaye reminds us in her Wallpaper* local’s guide to Accra, the engine of this rising power city remains its people: ‘You hear us before you see us,’ she says, whether in music, debate or conversation – a vibrancy that continues to propel Accra’s evolution.

New architecture: Backyard Community Club, by DeRoche Projects; Dot.ateliers | Ogbojo, by DeRoche Projects and TAELON7; Limbo Museum, by Limbo Accra.

Hotels and restaurants: Ghana Club; Kempinski Hotel Gold Coast City, by Page and Looney and Associates; La Villa Boutique Hotel; Santoku, by Hubert de Givenchy.

Cultural draws: Dikan Center, founded by photographer Paul Ninson; National Theatre, by CCTN Design; Nubuke Foundation, by Nav_s Baerbel Mueller and TAELON7.

Busan, South Korea

Newly named World Design Capital 2028, Busan is gaining momentum, using design to build on its traditions of civic resilience and cooperation. Under the banner Inclusive City, Engaged Design, the bid reflects a place intent on shaping more connected futures and deepening its cultural landscape, from the vast Eco Delta Smart City plan, a zero-energy, water-smart district built on digital urban systems, to a surge of architectural ambition now reshaping the skyline. Under construction, Kengo Kuma’s Busan Lotte Town Tower rises over the waterfront, Snøhetta’s long-awaited Busan Opera House edges toward reality, and OMA is reimagining hillside living through its Slope Housing model. Seoul may have taken our Best City award in 2024, but Busan, with its blend of ambition and intention, may well be next in line.

New architecture: Cheongsapo Daritdol Observatory; Heungkuk Tower Busan, by Mecanoo; Millac The Market / LJL Architects and 2K1 Architecture.

Under construction: Busan Lotte Town Tower, by Kengo Kuma and Associates; Busan Opera House, by Snøhetta with Ilshin Architects; Busan Slope Housing, by OMA.

Hotels and restaurants: EL 16.52, by JOHO Architecture; Mogua Hotel; Sakae, by Studio Gaia.

Cultural draws: Busan Cinema Centre, by Coop Himmelb(l)au; SCRAB, by JeongChoi Works; Space Lee Ufan, by KAGA Architects & Planners.

Delhi, India

Delhi’s creative momentum is set to accelerate in 2026 with the launch of the Delhi Design District this spring. Born from the collaboration between Wallpaper* and StoneX, the cultural hub, whose facade is inspired by the Rosetta Stone, will be home to multisensory art experiences, installations shaped by various Indian dance forms, and seven galleries that reflect human emotions. Its arrival will co-exist neatly with the annual India Art Fair, hosted every February. Meanwhile, the city’s gallery landscape continues to evolve, led by long-standing heavyweights like Nature Morte alongside a widening constellation of experimental spaces. As Delhi continues to see urbanisation and population growth, its current redevelopment of the New Delhi Railway Station will enhance civilian connections to buses, metro and airport alongside nearby areas.

New architecture: Pendentive House, by AKDA; Yashobhoomi Convention & Exhibition Centre, by IDOM + CP Kukreja Architects.

Under construction: Central Vista Redevelopment; Delhi Design District building; New Delhi Railway Station redevelopment.

Hotels and restaurants: Call Me Ten, by Renesa Architecture Design Interiors; The Lodhi, by Kerry Hill; Zura Restaurant and Bar, by Studiio Dangg.

Cultural draws: Nature Morte; Pradhanmantri Sangrahalaya, by Sikka Associates Architects; Shri Ram Centre for Performing Arts, by Shiv Nath Prasa.

Detroit, USA

Detroit is booming – again. Michigan Central, once a symbol of the city’s collapse, now anchors a high-energy mobility campus and sets the tone for a skyline shifting in real time. Downtown, Bedrock’s Hudson’s Detroit, designed by SHoP Architects, rises like a new marker of ambition, while the revived Book Tower blends contemporary living and culture into its restored historic shell. Neighbourhoods are keeping pace: Little Village is accelerating thanks to the Curis-led arts centre Shepherd and a flurry of creative openings, while Core City’s experimental housing and live-work compounds have turned it into a compelling urban laboratory. The numbers reinforce the sentiment: the city gained 12,500 new residents last year, and since 2011, Design Core Detroit has organised Detroit Month of Design, a yearly, city-wide festival that spotlights local creatives and projects.

New architecture: Bedrock’s Hudson’s Detroit, by SHoP Architects; Lantern complex and PASC building, by OMA.

Under construction: Stanton Yards, by SO-IL and OSD; NoMad Detroit.

Hotels and restaurants: Barda restaurant, by Undecorated; Shinola Hotel, by Gachot Studios; The Siren Hotel, by ASH NYC.

Cultural draws: Downtown Detroit and Library Street Collective, founded by Anthony and JJ Curis; Shepherd art Centre, by Peterson Rich Office.

Helsinki, Finland

As Helsinki Design Week 2025 marked its 20th anniversary, the city leaned into a question it knows well: why does the world’s happiest country stay so content? The Scandinavian nation has been designated the happiest in the world for the last eight years by the annual WEF report. The answer is arguably written across the city itself: modern yet rooted, social yet quietly reflective. Its design heritage and forward-looking attitude form a kind of civic formula, visible everywhere from a new wave of design-led hotels to its constellation of spas, singular restaurants and cultural institutions. Helsinki tends its past while engineering its future: the refreshed Finlandia Hall reasserts Aalto’s legacy, while the forthcoming Museum of Architecture and Design will unite more than 900,000 artefacts under one roof. It’s a city refining its identity with calm assurance.

New architecture: Finlandia Hall, refreshed by Arkkitehdit NRT; Lagmansgården, by Anttinen Oiva Architects.

Under construction: Museum of Architecture and Design, by JKMM.

Hotels and restaurants: Finlandia Hall Bistro, by Fyra; Finlandia Homes, featuring Alvar Aalto’s original designs; Jackie, by Joanna Laajisto; Solo Sokos Pier 4, by Anttinen Oiva Architects.

Cultural draws: House of Culture Vallikallio, by Alvar Aalto; Museum of Contemporary Art Kiasma, by Steven Holl; Oodi, by ALA Architects.

São Paulo, Brazil

Long considered one of Wallpaper*’s original design destinations, hard-working São Paulo is not a city that rests on its laurels. While residential projects remain a defining lure (from Studio Arthur Casas’ Pacaembu House, which won a Wallpaper* Design Award in 2024, to the confident work of established studios), large-scale regeneration is gathering pace; Planta Inc’s revival of the city’s modernist heritage signals a renewed respect for its icons, while Sol Camacho’s transformation of Pacaembu Stadium casts tropical modernism in a refreshed light. Hospitality is keeping pace, with Rosewood, Soho House and W drawing travellers hungry for the city’s creative energy. And this year’s 14th International Architecture Biennale pushed the conversation further, challenging architecture to confront climate change and the extreme events reshaping our urban future.

New architecture: Ibaté Building, by Studio Arthur Casas; Roca São Paulo Gallery, by Fernanda Marques; Pina Contemporânea Museum, by Arquitetos Associados.

Under construction: Museu de Arte de São Paulo Assis Chateaubriand (MASP), by Metro Arquitetos.

Hotels and restaurants: Pulso Hotel Faria Lima, by Arthur Casas; Rosewood São Paulo, by Philippe Starck; Santokki Restaurant, by Tadu Arquitetura,

Cultural draws: Edifício Itália, by Franz Heep; Ibirapuera Auditorium, by Oscar Niemeyer; Porto Seguro Cultural Space, by São Paulo Arquitetura.

Explore the shortlist for Life-Enhancer of the Year and Launch of the Year in the Wallpaper* Design Awards 2026.

In the heart of Rajasthan, where sandstone walls still carry the breath of centuries, Jaipur stands as a place where past and present glow together in shades of pink. Once a royal stronghold and now a laboratory of creativity, its streets bustle with unruly rickshaws even as they echo the grandeur of kings. From the filigreed Hawa Mahal palace to new design-forward restaurants, from the astronomical wonders of observatory site Jantar Mantar to sleek boutiques, and the City Palace where Mughal and Rajput aesthetics merge, the Pink City wears its heritage like an heirloom while stepping confidently into the future.

Jaipur’s cultural renaissance – where heritage and the future collide

'Jaipur has always attracted artists from across cities and countries; that’s what has led to the city’s rich cultural heritage,' says His Highness Maharaja Sawai Padmanabh Singh of Jaipur, known as Pacho to his friends, HH to his team, and the 'Gen Z maharaja' to the international press. A polo player graduated in cultural heritage management and art history, he is intent on steering Jaipur toward global relevance in craft and contemporary design.

'A similar phenomenon is happening now, on an even grander scale. We’re seeing the influx of artists, designers, and creatives synthesising Jaipur’s heritage with contemporary approaches to art. This is leading to something new: Jaipur’s modern identity as a hub of creativity and the arts.'

This vision took shape with the establishment of the Jaipur Centre for Art (JCA), founded by Singh in collaboration with curator Noelle Kadar, which opened its doors in November 2024. Set within the regal surroundings of the City Palace, JCA spans 2,600 sq ft as a public exhibition space. On its recent first anniversary, it unveiled artist Ayesha Sultana’s ‘Fragility and Resilience’ exhibition and the sixth edition of contemporary sculpture platform ‘The Sculpture Park’, at the historic Jaigarh Fort. These openings join a cultural calendar that already includes internationally known events, such as Jaipur Literature Festival led by, among others, historian William Dalrymple, and Jaipur Art Week, founded by Sana Rezwan, both of which next return in January 2026.

'Since Jaipur was designed 300 years ago to be a city of crafts across disciplines, we see JCA as a continuation,' say Kadar. She recalls the city’s famed chattis karkhanas (36 specialised craft industries, from gemstone-cutting to miniature-painting), many of which once had their own streets and markets. 'Today, 11 of these traditional crafts survive,' she notes, alongside the architectural artisanship that remains an essential skill to conservation projects across India.

Few people embody this continuity more than the Kasliwal family. Court jewellers at the invitation of Jaipur’s founder Maharaja Jai Singh II since the 1700s, they established their jewellery house, Gem Palace, in 1852, opening a flagship store on the city’s Mirza Ismail Road. From behind its gleaming vitrines, nine-generation scion and current helm Samir Kasliwal reflects: 'What makes Jaipur remarkable today is how exceptionally its craft traditions have been preserved. People travel from all over the world to discover the talent concentrated here.'

Under Jai Singh II’s patronage, the city’s jewellers perfected meenakari, the art of enamelling on precious metals. Today, the technique takes centre stage at the new Museum of Meenakari Heritage, run by the House of Sunita Shekhawat, the family-run fine jewellery brand that recently launched its first collection of collectible objects (including glorious mirrors, decorative spoons, even a pill box), honouring the craft while pushing it into unexpected dimensions.

A similar interplay of tradition and innovation drives designers such as Akshat Ghiya of Tallin Jewels. After decades of rapid industrialisation, he sees makers combining traditional craft with fresh perspectives, 'to create things that speak a global language but have that Indian soul'.

A centre of excellence dedicated to India’s textile heritage, housed in a restored haveli, Nila House represents this rising desire for authenticity and slow, meaningful processes. 'Our workshop rooms serve as creative hubs where artisans, designers, and researchers collaborate,' says director Anuradha Singh. With exhibitions, research initiatives, and a not-for-profit retail atelier, Nila House acts as 'a living archive, a place where craft is preserved, reimagined, and shared with the world'.

This renewed interest in handcrafted excellence is reshaping how travellers experience the city. 'Fifteen years ago, people came for a day or two,' Kasliwal notes. 'Now some stay for ten days just to explore its crafts. The city gravitates toward those who push limits, who turn their emotions into something tangible.'

The tourism world has noticed this trend as well. Among the latest openings for food enthusiast is Sarvato, the seasonal restaurant inside the City Palace. The result of a collaboration between HH and restaurateur Abhishek Honawar, this year it presents the result of an immersive research program dedicated to Rajasthan’s culinary heritage and wisdom through its traditional tools and vessels: urns, brass thalis, wooden ladles, stone grinders, and tiffin: each plate speaking of legacy, of land, history, people.

Speaking from Polo Palladio, the newest incarnation of the 116-year-old Rajasthan Polo Club, Dutch designer Marie-Anne Oudejans, who designed the exuberant interiors, describes Jaipur as a creative hub. The club is among her collaborations with Swiss-Italian entrepreneur Barbara Miolini, including the now-iconic Bar Palladio and Villa Palladio hotel, which have shaped a bold and unmistakable contemporary visual language rooted in local tradition.

'There is a group of foreigners living in Jaipur all year round, everyone established in their field and bringing their creativity,' she says, pointing to ventures such as IDLI by Thierry Journo, the French designer’s fashion and homeware company centred on vibrant textiles using local techniques; The Palace Atelier, an eclectic concept store at the City Palace offering a contemporary take on Jaipur’s arts and crafts heritage, by local Princess Gauravi Kumari and French creative director Claire Deroo; and fashion brand De Castro, by Colombian-born designer Virginia Borrero de Castro, which combines traditional Indian artisanship with global inspiration.

This openness is bringing global attention to workshops that were once hidden. 'Because of social media, the internet, and the fast pace of transportation, the finest workshops (once best-kept secrets) are now being discovered and celebrated,' says Parth Seth, founder of Frozen Music. His atelier, known for reviving traditional lapidary arts, blends techniques passed down for generations with state-of-the-art technology that extends, rather than replaces, the hand of the artisan.

At Jaipur Rugs, artistic director Greg Foster sees this momentum as part of a broader cultural awakening. 'It’s as if a renaissance is unfolding: people are discovering not only Jaipur’s skills but its energy.' Founded by NK Chaudhary in 1978 with nine weavers, the Indian maker of fine rugs now spans more than 600 villages and tens of thousands of artisans. Last year's opening of Aspura Gallery in Jaipur brought contemporary editions together with rare antiques, further raising the global profile of rural craftsmanship. Jaipur Rugs, Foster says, has helped shift perceptions, elevating the artistry of weavers long overlooked.

Threaded through all the city’s many and varied crafts is a single conviction: in Jaipur, heritage is not merely alive. It evolves, adapts, and continues to shape a city that refuses to choose between memory and imagination; it relies, as it always has, on both.

If there’s one thing that Wallpaper* does well, it’s houses – spotlighting architecturally arresting gems from around the globe and spanning the spectrum of modern design. Our inboxes are overflowing with news of the world’s most boundary-pushing architectural projects, and we strive to bring you the very best.

To ensure you don’t miss a thing – and to showcase the scope of residential architecture today – we’ve launched a monthly series: The Architecture Edit. Each instalment will highlight our favourite houses of the month: buildings that demonstrate creative planning, innovative methods and, of course, aesthetic excellence.

A Williamsburg loft

Brooklyn studio Of Possible has completed 103 Grand Street, a loft-style residential building containing two duplexes and a triplex. Each unit is defined by triple-height spaces, tall windows and abundant daylight, evoking the neighbourhood’s industrial-conversion past. Architect Vincent Appel prioritised not just floor area but vertical volume, seeking to elevate spatial quality. Meanwhile, interiors feature tactile materials – timber, stone and linen-like textures – for an organic, minimalist feel. While the street façade adopts classic Brooklyn brick, the rear reveals playful stacked volumes clad in custom fluted terracotta, creating terraces and outdoor rooms that encourage neighbourly interaction.

A Czech studio

Päivä Architekti’s Studio Above the Golden Canyon extends an existing home in the Czech village of Luka pod Medníkem with a new timber structure woven into a steep, wooded site. The addition, which overlooks the Sázava River, includes an open studio with mezzanine, an en-suite bedroom and a utility zone, linked to the original house by a covered walkway that incorporates a mature oak tree. Constructed from steel, tanned larch cladding, engineered spruce interiors and concrete flooring, part of the studio cantilevers over the landscape, with large sliding glass panels dissolving the boundary between interior and nature.

An Australian sanctuary

Amongst the Eucalypts by Jason Gibney Design Workshop is a New South Wales holiday home that sits lightly on its site, following the natural contours to form outdoor rooms and sheltered courtyards. Despite its serene minimalism, the house is engineered for bushfire resilience – developed with bushfire specialists and local craftspeople. The design incorporates pivoting façade panels, retractable mesh shutters and durable materials that allow the building to shift from openness to full protection. Its concrete and fibre-cement shell creates an ‘armoured’ yet contemporary aesthetic, demonstrating that fire-resistant architecture can be elegant and sustainable.

A Miami retreat

A couple in Miami commissioned Brillhart Architecture to create a home immersed in a lush, jungle-like double lot in historic Morningside – an approach inspired by the neighbourhood’s garden origins and Florida’s tropical modernism. Rather than clearing the hundreds of mature trees on site, the architects mapped the vegetation and arranged a 4,100 sq ft residence as four pavilions connected by glass corridors and open walkways. Elevated 30 inches above ground, the home appears to float among strangler figs, live oaks and gumbo-limbo trees, while shou sugi ban siding and ipe shutters merge with the greenery, and calm interiors of pale stone and wood frame continuous garden views.

A mid-century icon

The Stahl House – an icon of mid-century modernism perched in the Hollywood Hills – was listed for sale for $25 million this month. Designed by Pierre Koenig and immortalised in Julius Shulman’s 1960 photograph, its glass-walled design and cinematic views helped define California modernism. Though modest at 2,200 sq ft with two bedrooms, it has remained largely unchanged since completion, and retains its original open-plan kitchen, unrenovated bathrooms and legendary pool. The home has remained in the Stahl family for 65 years and was designated a Historic-Cultural Monument in 1999; it requires thoughtful stewardship, and the owners hope to find a buyer who appreciates its architectural legacy.

A renovated winery

Near Lisbon, Quinta do Álamo transforms the ruins of an old winery into a minimalist retreat for two musicians. Atelier Matteo Arnone organised the plan around symmetry, driven by the need for two identical recording studios. The long, linear structure is carved with voids and internal patios that draw daylight deep inside, while gentle curves introduce softness. The ground floor houses a combined living room, kitchen and bedroom; above, the twin studios are embedded within the building’s thick perimeter walls. Patios and passages thread through the home toward the pool, resulting in a serene, balanced composition defined by rhythm and light.

An Indian farmhouse

On a two-acre site in Karnataka, Taliesyn Design & Architecture’s House by the Grove reimagines a farmhouse as a porous, nature-immersed dwelling. The 5,400 sq ft home uses verandas, open walkways and sliding glass partitions to merge the indoors and out, while materials such as hand-finished cement, steel, Sira stone and Kota stone root the architecture in its boulder-strewn landscape. A soaring great room with operable façades forms the social heart, flanked by long verandas beneath a pitched roof clad in Mangalore tiles. Bedrooms feature open-to-sky bathrooms, and a second floor – accessed via an external stair – contains a library, another en-suite bedroom and walkways overlooking the great hall.

A London rooftop

Studio Felicity Bell has transformed a Clerkenwell rooftop into a minimalist home with sweeping views across London. Built atop a former industrial building once inhabited by the owners, the addition is set back from the street façade to form a wraparound terrace and reduce visual impact. The new structure’s columns align with the original building’s piers, creating a grid that alternates between open, pergola-like bays and glazed panels. Inside, a generous open-plan living space surrounded by glass frames views of the City and BT Tower. The adaptable interior to shifts between working, living and hosting, with a stained-oak monolith conceals a studio, desk and guest bed.

The shifting design landscape in India is one we’ve been watching closely at Wallpaper* and one of the reasons we’ve been eagerly anticipating the second edition of Design Mumbai (26-29 November 2025, Jio World Garden, Mumbai). As with most international trade shows, global names and activations tend to dominate the headlines – this year’s programme includes a busy talks schedule and Design Mumbai Exchange, a series of installations by international designers – but it is the local studios and brands that most pique our interest.

At a moment of visible change within India’s creative scene, there is a growing number of women-led studios among this year’s exhibitors. 'India’s creative landscape is currently being shaped by a new generation of women-led design studios who integrate traditional skills with contemporary vision,' observes Piyush Suri, co-founder and creative director of Design Mumbai. 'Designers at Design Mumbai this year are redefining Indian design through innovative use of materials, pioneering new aesthetics, and a commitment to storytelling. Their practices emphasise sustainability, collaboration, and community.'

Five women-led studios to watch at Design Mumbai

In a country with deeply ingrained expectations around women’s roles, the presence of these studios signals a broader cultural shift – not only in who is designing, but in how design itself is being defined. By reworking rather than rejecting heritage, these designers are bringing ancient knowledge into contemporary practice and shaping a more confident, outward-facing vision of Indian design.

We spoke to five women-led studios shaping the conversation.

Sarvatva

Founded in early 2024 by three National Institute of Fashion Technology alumni, Sarvatva is a Chandigarh-based furniture and décor studio built around craft, philosophy and community. The project began when Iteesha Agrawal left a corporate role during the pandemic and began working directly with artisan communities in the Himalayas, responding to the severe setbacks faced by craftspeople during Covid.

She later brought together a team that shared the same vision, including Tejaswi Pathak, whose interest in ancient Indian scriptures helped shape the studio's conceptual foundation of 'wholeness', and Ishita Srivastava, a furniture designer who returned to India after studying in Milan, driven by a desire to 'take Indian crafts global' after witnessing 'a lack of representation of Indian crafts on the global platform'.

Their first collection, 'Tad Ekam', launched the studio’s distinctive direction. Made using a 400-year-old wood carving technique called 'Saharanpur', the collection of chairs, tables and a sofa, feature flowing forms hand sculpted from different varieties of teak in matte or glossy finishes.

Indian philosophy and ancient values sit at the heart of their work with the studio regarding furniture and domestic spaces as tools for reflection – designing pieces that invite users to 'reconnect with themselves everyday' and move towards 'a holistic way of living'.

As an all-women team, Agrawal describes Sarvatva's work as being 'more emotions driven', shaped by vulnerability and a willingness to express themselves more openly. They actively embrace imperfection, valuing the character of handmade work over the uniformity of machine-made production.

Agrawal is clear that she sees herself as a female entrepreneur rather than simply a designer. In a country where women are often expected to prioritise family over ambition, she explains that simply 'having dreams for yourself' can be seen as radical. 'We have bigger dreams which are not for ourselves but for the community of craft which we want to see flourishing,' she explains. 'That's breaking a lot of stereotypes in a country like India.'

FAZO Project

FAZO Project was born from a deep connection to place, material and memory. Based in Mirzapur – a region long associated with carpet weaving – co-founders Fatima Warsi and Zoheb Khan grew up surrounded by yarns, looms and colours. 'The studio was born out of deep appreciation for our craft, and a desire to push the boundaries of tradition,' says Warsi. 'The idea was to merge this legacy of handmade excellence with a bold, contemporary design language.'

The studio's rugs – featuring bold graphic shapes and piles of varying heights to create dramatic texture – are woven by a close-knit artisan community, many of whom have inherited their skills over generations. While the traditional carpet loom remains the foundation, Warsi explains that the conversation around it is entirely modern. 'Each design goes through multiple iterations that result in something timeless, rooted in history yet relevant to contemporary design.'

For Warsi, the growing energy of Mumbai’s design scene is inseparable from the increasing visibility of women. 'It’s a very exciting time,” she says. 'I feel women bring a distinct sensitivity and intuition to any landscape. Women’s approach often blends emotional intelligence along with an aesthetic clarity - these are qualities that lead to a more nuanced and deeper understanding of how design impacts daily life.'

On the global stage, Warsi believes Indian designers offer something hard to replicate. 'We bring a certain authenticity to the global conversation, because we understand the essence of handmade and the importance of good design.' That balance of sensitivity and strength, she says, is what makes the Indian voice increasingly compelling in contemporary design discourse.

Hobo Houz

Hobo Houz co-founder Varsha Patra’s practice is rooted in Aari hand-embroidery – a technique she was drawn to for both its technical precision and its emotional depth. 'As a textile designer, I've always been drawn to exploring new possibilities with thread and textiles,' she explains. Aari embroidery offered a way to push that curiosity further: 'There's something about working with just a hooked needle and thread that opens up so many possibilities.' What began as a technical fascination soon became something more meditative. 'You have to be completely present because each stitch builds on the last one.'

Her textile artworks are arrestingly intricate, containing detailed depictions of flora and fauna, and figures and motifs from traditional folk art brought to life in unexpected ways, through abstract forms that give the work a distinctly contemporary feel.

Preserving the integrity of the craft while allowing it to evolve has become central to Patra’s work. 'We stay true to the traditional method – the hooked needle, the chain stitch,' she says, even as the application becomes more experimental. 'Over time, everything was being made on machines and Aari hand-embroidery was losing its value.' In response, Patra committed to creating 'real art pieces that would shift this perception entirely.

Working from Hyderabad required building a new ecosystem around a craft not native to the region. 'Aari embroidery doesn't truly belong to this region, so I had to make arrangements for artisans to migrate and get trained to work with me in my studio,' she notes. Nature and folk traditions remain constant reference points. 'Nature has always been my most constant teacher,' she says, citing her Tree of Life series and the Kalpavrksa as recurring inspirations.

Patra sees a growing appetite for slowness and depth. 'People are starting to crave things that have a real human presence behind them,' she reflects. 'There's a growing interest in understanding how things are made, who makes them, and what truly goes into the process.'

Jasmine Jhaveri

The curator of the Emerging Designers Pavilion at Design Mumbai, Jasmine Jhaveri has spent more than two decades working as an interior stylist, shaping spaces that respond to people, material and mood. 'That instinct to discover, nurture, and layer meaningful design is what naturally led me to create this new platform,' she says of the inaugural Emerging Designers Pavilion. India, she adds, has 'an extraordinary pool of emerging talent – experimental, boundary-pushing, and deeply rooted in cultural nuance, yet their stories don’t always find the visibility they deserve. The Pavilion aims to shift that.'

The curatorial framework is also deeply personal. A karate practitioner for over three decades, Jhaveri asked each participating brand to respond to 'the principles from kata (a structured series of movements, techniques, and stances) – form, strength, balance, precision, flow.' The result, she says, is 'a showcase that not only highlights emerging Indian talent, but also explores how design and movement-based philosophy can come together to tell powerful new stories.'

For Jhaveri, Mumbai’s design culture is defined by intensity and contradiction. 'Mumbai’s design energy is electric,' she enthuses. 'It’s a city of contradictions – wildly chaotic one moment and strikingly refined the next.' She believes the city’s openness to experimentation sets it apart: 'Here, people don’t feel the pressure to fit into boxes.'

She has witnessed a profound shift in women’s visibility within design that she describes as 'remarkable and long overdue'. 'Women-led studios are no longer operating on the margins; they are at the centre of India’s most compelling design work,' she notes, pointing to a clarity and confidence in the way women designers are presenting their ideas now.

Looking forward, Jhaveri sees a generation that is not burdened by the need to fit into predefined categories and that is designing not only for aesthetics, but for social and ecological change.

Kohelika Kohli Karkhana

Kohelika Kohli Karkhana founder Kohelika Kohli describes her eponymous atelier as a space born from a fascination with material transformation and how fragments, residues and often overlooked elements can be pushed beyond their expected use. 'Working closely with artisans across India made me acutely aware of the depth of their knowledge and the need to keep that lineage alive while expanding its vocabulary,' she reflects. In response, she has built a Karkhana (a Persian word meaning 'factory' or 'workshop') focused on experimentation and the practical reuse of discarded materials.

In her pieces, you'll find wasted yarns from an artist's studio preserved within a resin tabletop, reclaimed mild steel sheets reborn as cabinet doors or brass panels cast in mould made from recycled and fragmented cardboard.

Her work sits deliberately between art and design. 'For me, art and design are intertwined,' she says. 'Design becomes meaningful when it moves beyond utility and begins to evoke emotion.' Each object begins as a visual experiment, testing proportion, texture and form.

For Kohli, reuse is not treated as an afterthought. 'Reuse, for me, is not a trend but a mindset. When you repurpose a material, you honour its past while giving it a renewed identity.' For her, this approach reflects respect for materials and process, and a sense of responsibility for the wider impact of design.

Having studied and worked abroad, she views Mumbai as a city with a distinctive creative pulse. 'Mumbai has an extraordinary creative rhythm – layered, imperfect and full of life,' she notes. 'Unlike many global cities, Mumbai’s design language is shaped by contrast and intuition.' She sees a growing confidence in Indian design today and a willingness to reinterpret heritage without reverting to imitation – an energy that Kohelika Kohli Karkhana both responds to and draws strength from.

This Indian country residence is the work of Taliesyn Design & Architecture, a practice recently featured here with its house in Bengaluru. The team has now completed another private home, a farmhouse on a two-acre site in the state of Karnataka in south-western India.

The Bangalore-based firm designed the House by the Grove to be a ‘synergy between people, space, and nature’, thanks to its use of open verandas and walkways, with living spaces raised up above the surrounding landscape.

Tour this new Indian country residence

The built-up area extends over 5,400 sq ft, with much of the accommodation contained on the L-shaped ground floor. The core of the living space is housed in the great room at the heart of the house – with soaring ceiling heights and sliding glass partitions on each side allowing the entire space to be opened up to the elements – flanked by long verandas that are covered by the steeply pitched roof.

This room houses the kitchen, dining space and seating area, a linear arrangement sandwiched between a central service core, with store, utility spaces, and the principal bedroom. In contrast to the open living area, this room is more enclosed, with a curved, open air shower area projecting out from the building line, creating a sculptural contrast with the straight concrete walls.

A similar en-suite arrangement is found at the other end of the great hall, across a patio and water feature. From this patio, an external staircase leads up to the second floor. Here, twin walkways flank the void above the great hall, leading to a library and a third en-suite bedroom.

Finally, the accommodation extends out into the surroundings courtesy of another a covered veranda, this time with a smaller pitched roof and completely open sides. This forms the entrance block, distinct from the living block, with the two different roof heights creating a distinctly domestic scale composition. All roofs are clad with traditional ridged red Mangalore tiles.

The house is inserted into a space alongside mature trees and large boulders, with the raised concrete plinth creating a sense of being a part of the landscape. The material palette is simple, with a steel frame holding up the roof above hand-finished cement walls and columns. The latter add a rhythm to the view, framing the lush green surroundings and casting shadows across the interior and verandas. Underfoot, Kota stone flooring in the living areas is paired with Sira stone in the bathrooms.

House by the Grove combines its openness with niches and nooks for privacy and discovery, as well as the contemplative water feature by the entrance. By having bathrooms that are open to the sky, the elements are even brought into the more secluded bedroom spaces.

‘The farmhouse is ultimately a place of balance – between openness and privacy, light and shade, built form and landscape,’ say architects Shalini Chandrashekar and Ar G S Mahaboob Basha. ‘It is a home designed for gatherings and conversations, but equally for solitude and retreat, where architecture and nature seamlessly converge to create a timeless and soulful living experience.’

Chandrashekar and Mahaboob Basha founded Taliesyn in 2010 and have an impressive portfolio of private houses, public spaces and retail projects.

Taliesyn.in

Indian architecture practice Wallmakers is known for setting itself improbable tasks – from creating a subterranean home on a rockface (Chuzhi House), to building a residence using 6,200 discarded toys. So it is no surprise that, when asked to design a home and bridge to connect two parcels of farmland for a client in Karjat, Maharashtra, he should suggest combining the two. The result is Bridge House, an inhabitable 100ft suspension bridge that hovers above a spillway from a dam, its thatch and mud cladding making it disappear into the landscape.

‘If I learned one lesson from this project, it is “Beware of tackling bridges”,’ founder Vinu Daniel says with a laugh. ‘But these challenges are what get me up in the morning.’ Merging bridge and home was also prudent for the client. ‘It saved them money and reserved more land for farming.’

Constraints often give rise to ingenuity and here, they were plentiful. The foundations couldn’t rest within the 100ft width of the spillway; there needed to be enough clearance for a JCB to clean the stream beneath; and Wallmakers wanted to use local materials – following Gandhi’s principle that the ideal house should be built with those from a five mile radius – but the only abundant local option was grass. Added to this, it wished to avoid using a central pillar, which usually holds most of the weight of a bridge, as this would dissect the core of the house.

Its response was to create four hyperbolic paraboloids – double-curved surfaces that resemble saddles – using minimal steel pipes and tendons to give the structure tensile strength. Positioned on their sides in pairs towards each end of the bridge, and supported by poles in the water, these saddles form voids for living spaces.

But the poles and tendons weren’t enough: Wallmakers needed to add compression strength. The practice is known for its Debris Wall construction, combining earth with all manner of waste, but this time it looked to straw. ‘I’d always known I’d try thatching one day but I was looking for the right project,’ says Daniel. Like in many parts of the world, thatching has declined in the region but it has not entirely vanished. ‘We had to become students again,’ he adds. A composite of thatch and mud would provide the requisite strength for the house’s shell, while the latter would stop animals from burrowing into the straw – a perennial problem in the area.

Trying to thatch double curves, however, is no easy feat, particularly because it gives water a chance to penetrate from both sides. ‘First we looked at fish scales, then we hit upon pangolin scales, which move as the animal moves,’ Daniel explains. ‘We did a few tests with thatch and mud scales and they worked. The scales allow movement, while ensuring water can’t get through.’ Used for the underside of the house too, they give it the appearance of a suspended cocoon amid the forest and, as with many of Wallmakers’ material choices, they also camouflage the building within its surroundings. Meanwhile, the lightweight structure just has four footings, for minimal intrusion on the landscape.

Visitors enter on the upper floor of the house, which holds two bedrooms, bathrooms and a kitchen and dining area at one end, overlooking a triangular-shaped pool. At the core of the bridge is a living area, decked in reclaimed wood from the shipping industry (Daniel allows more mileage leeway for reclaimed materials). It’s a space where the inhabitants can enjoy the elements: an open oculus above allows rain water to pour through the building’s heart, running through holes in the floor to the stream below. They can also relax on chairs made from folded carpets with fibres made from PET bottles and abandoned fishing nets, which Wallmakers will soon launch as a collection in collaboration with a carpet company. Meanwhile the lower level holds two further bedrooms, including the master, which has expansive glazing overlooking the surrounding forest.

Daniel has developed a close-knit construction team of masons, welders and craftspeople, who he works with from project to project and this stretched their skills to the max. ‘The steel ropes were made by people I’ve been working with for 15 years and my welders are now in the second generation. Challenging projects like these create a lot of memories for us. We crossed the bridge together.’

wallmakers.org

If there’s one thing that Wallpaper* does well, it’s houses – spotlighting architecturally arresting gems from around the globe and spanning the spectrum of modern design. Our inboxes are overflowing with news of the world’s most boundary-pushing architectural projects, and we strive to bring you the very best.

To ensure you don’t miss a thing – and to showcase the scope of residential architecture today – we’ve launched a monthly series: The Architecture Edit. Each instalment will highlight our favourite houses of the month: buildings that demonstrate creative planning, innovative methods and, of course, aesthetic excellence.

A terraced home transformation

Architects Edward Williams and Laura Carrara-Cagni of Cagni Williams Associates reimagined this Edwardian terraced house in south London as a sustainable, light-filled home. A striking new ‘gallery’ extension – clad in Corten steel and glass – replaces the old conservatory and brings a sculptural modernity to the rear façade. The rest of design balances bold forms with natural warmth, linking home and garden through large pivoting doors and oak-lined interiors. From the outset, sustainability guided the project, which features an air-source heat pump and underfloor heating.

A Malibu beach pad

Interior designer Pamela Shamshiri has transformed a 1990s Malibu beachfront compound for producer Jana Bezdek, fusing Hollywood glamour with Brazilian modernism. Inspired by Lina Bo Bardi and James Bond, the main house features a sculptural De Sede sofa, white terrazzo floors and a curved timber bar, all cast in an elegant taupe-to-caramel palette. Elsewhere, a crimson screening room exudes California luxury, and mirrored walls ensure ocean views from the bedroom and office. Outside, lush landscaping and tiered terraces further blur the boundary between indoor and out.

An Arizona compound

Prompted by a zoning law change that sanctioned attached secondary units, architect Benjamin Hall converted this suburban Phoenix house into a multigenerational desert compound. Using cost-efficient concrete masonry units (CMU), he designed a 1,700 sq ft addition that harmonises with the desert landscape both aesthetically and environmentally – thick, insulated walls, concrete floors and maple cabinetry create a minimalist yet welcoming interior, while sliding doors open onto a courtyard planted with native flora and framed by mountain views.

A Canadian modernist gem

Perched on Bowen Island near Vancouver, Morse House (1983) by Dick Mann of Thompson Berwick Pratt epitomises West Coast modernism. Crafted from cedar, fir, stone and glass, the 21,526 sq ft residence immerses its occupants in forest and ocean panoramas. A cedar staircase descends to a glazed façade surrounded by gardens and waterfalls, leading to an atrium centred around a 50ft pool and a soaring great hall. With its guesthouse, gym and private dock, this handcrafted home achieves a rare equilibrium between architecture and nature.

An eco-brutalist sanctuary

On the outskirts of Hyderabad, Antriya by 23 Degrees Design Shift redefines brutalism as lush, livable and sustainable. Constructed from local Khammam sandstone and Markapuram slate, and softened with reclaimed teak and abundant greenery, the 14,500 sq ft residence accommodates three generations of one family. Cascading plants and lily pad-filled ponds blur boundaries between architecture and nature while passively regulating the tropical climate. Concealed behind boundary walls, the home seems to emerge from the undergrowth as you approach – a tactile, nature-infused reimagining of brutalism.

A Canadian cabin 

In Ontario’s wooded hills, AKB Architects’ Timbertop is a minimalist four-bedroom retreat designed for family gatherings and outdoor adventure. The single-storey, barn-inspired home marries rural simplicity with modern refinement. Clad in crisp white to contrast with the surrounding evergreens, the home withstands heavy snow and wind while maintaining warmth and intimacy under its pitched gabled roof. Open-plan living, kitchen and library spaces create a cosy refuge amid the winter landscape.

A rainforest retreat

Set deep in the Costa Rican jungle, Studio House by Dagmar Štěpánová of Formafatal appears to float above a slope on concrete and Corten steel supports, minimising impact on the terrain. Designed as Štěpánová’s personal residence, the 125 sq m structure consists of open terraces, raw concrete interiors and a glazing-free ocean-facing window which immerses the home in the sounds and textures of the forest. Two simple bedrooms and an infinity pool continue the elemental aesthetic, while the rooftop and east terraces offer uninterrupted views of the Pacific.

A brick and concrete home

In Ahmedabad, architect Vaissnavi Shukl’s Teen Vaults reinterprets brick-and-concrete construction. Originally conceived as a weekend retreat, it evolved into a full-time family residence organised around three vaulted volumes – one for for dining, one for living, and one for reading. Exposed brick walls, terrazzo floors and teak furniture evoke a grounded simplicity, while a folded concrete staircase with a wooden-bead railing adds sculptural elegance. A central courtyard surrounded by mango and frangipani trees serves as the home’s spiritual heart.

On the outskirts of Hyderabad, India, lies Antriya, a striking, monolithic home with a twist. Over its raw, brutalist-inspired façade cascades lush greenery, creating a compelling blend of the architectural and the organic. It’s hard to believe that, prior to this project, the only resident on the site was a solitary peepal tree.

Designed by 23 Degrees Design Shift, Antriya is the dream home of two brothers who envisioned a retreat to be shared across three generations of their family. Spanning 14,500 sq ft, the building is constructed from locally sourced Khammam brown sandstone and Markapuram slate, and, indoors, reclaimed teak and grey lime plaster. These choices subtly soften the harshness associated with brutalism, leaning into a more tactile, natural aesthetic.

Inside, the home is visually and physically open. Expansive living areas boast soaring 15ft ceilings, while coconut trees and curtain creepers break down the building’s scale. Greenery planted on the overhang slab is visible through clerestory windows, reinforcing the sense of living within the landscape. The flexible configurations and profusion of greenery continually blur the boundary between indoors and out – Antriya is all light, air, earth and sky.

The integration of greenery is not merely aesthetic – it’s also functional. In Hyderabad’s humid climate, passive cooling is essential. The home uses natural airflow, cantilevered overhangs and and expansive lawns to mitigate heat.

Among the many standout features is a sculptural staircase that serves as the backdrop to a semi-open lounge. Nearby, a verandah – the social heart of the home – can be opened or enclosed with sliding glass panels. The pool, meanwhile, is a sequestered sanctuary with vines hanging from the ceiling.

A lily pad-covered water body encircles the home, making it feel as though it is floating (the feature also serves the practical purpose of keeping wildlife out). This effect lends another layer of contrast between the manmade and the natural, and is repeated throughout Antriya’s design: from the elevated walkway that leads to the main entrance to the thickly planted landscape by Kiasma Studio that shrouds the house, making it seem to emerge from the undergrowth like a brutalist treehouse. On approach, vision-blocking boundary walls preserve the drama of the reveal, keeping the house hidden until the last possible moment.

In many ways, Antriya redefines what the brutalist style can be: not cold and detached, but alive, responsive and connected. This is a multi-layered family home primed for connection, but it is also a carefully choreographed architectural experience.

In Bengaluru, Villa 1374 nods to its context, marking a new urban residence that balances greenery with design appeal. Created by The Purple Ink Studio, a locally based architecture firm, the new residential project is an ode to the Indian city's nickname: 'Garden City'

Inside the Bengaluru Villa 1374, an urban oasis

Bengaluru is an amalgamation of urbanisation and greenery. Developments and buildings have cascading plants hanging from balconies, while large gardens remain at the heart of many residences. As urban density increases and daily living space decreases, The Purple Ink Studio believes it is integral to not only preserve existing pockets of greenery but reimagine nature’s role in urban living. The architects ask the question: 'Can the home itself become a vessel for nature?'

Villa 1374 is a response to this. Nestled into a northern Bengaluru plot, which is surrounded by wide streets lined with trees, the residence takes on a monolithic form. The solid base anchors the home, while curved upper layers and staggered volumes provide a softness to the design.

Inside, the social spaces flow into each other, with gardens tucked into the fabric of the home. The interior plays with light and shadow, with soft furnishings paying homage to local craftsmanship.

The architects carefully chose materials which will age gracefully in time, while creating a textural palette throughout. The hues are earthy – think, stones, charcoal and neutrals – while warmth is added through terracotta and bespoke furniture.

The home acts as a cosy cocoon. The staircase unfolds in layers, with corridors interconnecting with each other. Upstairs, a swimming pool and entertainment areas make the most of the highest level of the home, with a welcoming openness.

What anchors the project is its crafted landscape. The Purple Ink Studio wanted to make sure the villa is in constant harmony with its surroundings, and that the greenery would act like a ‘quiet companion' to daily life. In the clients’ previous home, plants were central in their lives. Using this existing, mature collection, along with new flora, the architects created a personal urban oasis.

thepurpleinkstudio.com

In the Indian capital of New Delhi, lies Brick House, a residence thriving in its honest materiality, and inspired by - seemingly - simple elements, such as shadow and light. Designed by locally based RLDA Studio, the home is nestled on a natural slope of the land, taking into account the location of a mature tree and existing driveway on site. The project’s name is a tribute to the nature of the building: four discrete structures, each predominantly made of brick.

Tour Brick House by RLDA Studio

‘The inspiration behind the project was to use a basic building material to create an architectural and climatic context on a semi-rural site,’ explains Rahoul Singh, who co-founded RLDA Studio alongside Lakshmi Chand Singh, who also co-designed Brick House. ‘Brick, with its deep connection to India’s material history and craft tradition, was an obvious choice — it ages well, has tactile richness, and carries vernacular resonance.'

'The design draws from this tradition while using form, brick patterns, trellises, and courtyards to respond to climate through cooling, shade, and ventilation. It creates spaces that shift with light and time, balancing solidity with dynamism. Rooted in its site of trees, topography, and orientation, the house continues the long historical continuum of brick building across geographies.’

The residence’s four volumes consist of a circular guard room, a cubic pump room and two residential blocks. The façade offers different wall typologies, creating an intriguing visual character through the use of distinct and varied brick coursing. Inside the home, four courtyards break up the space. A kitchen overlooks the swimming pool, which is situated between the two residential blocks, set underneath an overhead trellis.

This pronounced, intricate brickwork is unusual, and it took some discussion for everyone to get on board, Singh tells us: ‘The project faced several challenges, from construction complexities to the difficulty of sourcing bricks of consistent quality. The greatest challenge, however, lay in convincing people of the expressive potential of brick — that it could embody a contemporary language while also creating a kind of ‘wall art’ and functioning as a shading device to keep the walls cool during Delhi’s hot summer months.’

The brick layering is at its densest at the base of the building. It gets more sparse as it rises; this is to emphasise the building's height, while also responding to the position of the sun, creating different patterns which evolve throughout the day. The shadow the brickwork casts is the architect’s favourite design element.

‘The spatial layout of the house, together with the use of brick and elements like trellises, responds directly to the movement of the sun,’ says Singh. ‘As a result, the façades are in constant flux, and the image of the building is never static.’

rldastudio.com

Tucked away on a leafy plot at the end of a mango tree-lined street in Ahmedabad, India, 'Teen Vaults' is a brick residence that balances nostalgia with quiet sophistication. Conceived by architect Vaissnavi Shukl, who founded her eponymous practice in 2020, the home was designed in close collaboration with the clients as a charming retreat – a weekend escape centred around a pool and pavilion.

However, the clients, a couple with two children, were captivated by the tranquillity of the site and decided to make it their permanent residence. Shukl decided to blend craft and comfort, creating a home with spaces which had distinct functions.

‘The original idea was to work with bricks and experiment with some bold forms,’ explains the architect and founder. ‘Way back in 2011, during the third semester of my Bachelor of Architecture program at CEPT, I had done a studio project wherein I was exploring vaults as roofs.'

'That came back to me this time and we proposed a plan that had three vaults, each comprising the day-to-day functions that form the basis of modern-day living: an open dining and kitchen space, a living room and a library.’

The position of the residence allows abundant northern light to illuminate, while on the south side, strategic openings bring in warm winter sun on cooler days. Westerly winds provide natural ventilation ensuring a gentle flow of breeze through the home.

Although Teen Vaults has a bold architectural language, the residence feels anything but austere. Grounded in honest materiality, the home boasts brick walls and concrete vaults, as well as terrazzo floors with subtle colour and solid teak furniture with brass accents.

Design touches include a sculptural folded concrete staircase and a delicately strung wooden-bead railing, which leads to the upper floor. Softening the concrete elements is the courtyard at the heart of the home, planted with fragrant frangipani and tulsi.

For Shukl, the aim was to create a space for anyone to feel like they have come home, as she says: ‘The forecourt welcomes one with a dense, lush plantation centred around a bunch of mango and frangipani trees with a meek stone walkway that leads to the entrance courtyard. A black granite Nandi idol subtly gestures towards the lattice gate.'

‘The open sky entrance courtyard is the first space one encounters after passing through the gate. Centred around a frangipani tree and a ceremonial tulsi planter, the courtyard is bookended by the mandir (temple) on one side and the main door of the house on the other. Once one enters the house, they know they are finally at home.’

vaissnavishukl.com

Within the largely residential and refined enclave of Vasant Vihar in New Delhi, a bold and transportive new restaurant has taken shape. Call Me Ten, a 6,000 sq ft Japanese restaurant and bar conceived by Renesa Architecture Design Interiors, presents a materially minimalist yet striking departure from convention. Natural limestone plaster and stone aggregates form its elemental core, while a symphony of curves and muted tones lend the interiors an atmosphere that is at once serene and dramatic.

Call Me Ten, New Delhi

Throughout the interiors, the design gestures towards Japanese aesthetics while subtly layering in modern elements. Shoji-inspired partitions strike a delicate balance between openness and enclosure, their translucent planes diffusing light into a soft glow. The layout takes cues from traditional tatami arrangements, fostering a sense of order and intimacy.

Polished concrete floors set a tone of contemporary elegance, punctuated in parts by deep-toned, hand-made mosaic ceramic tiles that provide a striking spatial counterpoint. ‘Their warmth balances the cooler palette of steel and stone, while their irregular texture lends intimacy underfoot,’ notes Sanchit Arora, principal architect and concept design head at the firm. ‘They help slow the rhythm of the space – every step feels deliberate.’ Concrete aside, warm wooden accents and natural stone surfaces anchor the scheme in organic authenticity, heightening the sensory experience.

If the architecture carries a natural ebb and flow, accentuated by pronounced curves, the furniture tempers it with sleek silhouettes and sculptural restraint. ‘Solid wood tables and upholstered chairs in muted leather and bouclé provide both durability and tactility,’ adds Arora. ‘The contrast between hard and soft materials mirrors the larger design dialogue at Call Me Ten – rigid structure meeting indulgent comfort.’

Interestingly, as a deliberate departure from the restaurant’s otherwise natural material palette, the bar, a monolithic block of brushed stainless steel, commands attention. Resistant to patina and reflective of its shifting surroundings, it becomes a contemporary counterpoint to the earthen, tactile finishes that envelop the space. ‘It’s a deliberate disruption; a stage for the theatre of mixology,’ quips Arora. Lighting, meanwhile, plays a supporting role, accentuating the subtler details of the architecture and materials. ‘Sculptural lighting installations act as focal points, their geometric forms throwing dynamic shadows that animate the interiors,’ he adds.

Beyond its striking design, Call Me Ten offers a compelling culinary narrative. Rooted in Japanese tradition yet reframed with a modern izakaya influence, the menu blends time-honoured flavours with contemporary techniques. Highlights include pork belly, baby chicken with yuzu kosho, and the signature miso black cod, all paired with inventive cocktails, from the carrot-infused Ninjin Supai to the Japanese-leaning Tokyo Old Fashioned, alongside a host of Asian-inspired tipples.

On why the restaurant was named Call Me Ten, Arora explains: ‘The idea plays into duality; at once playful and mysterious. For us, it was about crafting a space that feels both numerical and enigmatic, inviting guests to bring their own interpretation. You begin at level zero – warm, welcoming, and washed in beige for all-day dining before ascending to level one, where charcoal-grey interiors set a more dramatic night-time mood. Day and night, zero and one: together, they form ten.’

Call Me Ten is located at 58, Market, Basant Lok, Vasant Vihar, New Delhi, Delhi 110057, India.

The affluent neighbourhood of Jubilee Hills in Hyderabad is known for its parade of ‘vanity projects’ in eclectic styles commissioned by the city’s glitterati. Modern, imposing, and private, the area has long championed scale and spectacle. Echoing that grandeur yet departing in spirit, a new bar and restaurant trades manicured lawns for an untamed terrain. Designed by local studio 23 Degrees Design Shift, Babylon is proof that tropical brutalism and beer can – on occasion – outshine champagne and marble.

Babylon, Hyderabad

The venue unfolds across four distinct zones, all anchored by a luminous, social central courtyard – the landscape design comes courtesy of Kiasma Studio. The brewery sits atop a semi-open bar, feeding beer straight from tank to tap; surrounding trees and tumbling greenery soften the sculptural concrete blocks. A connecting slab leads to the mezzanine of the indoor bar, where double-height ceilings and a kinetic sculpture elevate the mood from breezy to cinematic. Meanwhile, a three-storey service block organises the practicalities – kitchen, bakery, admin, and guest facilities – into a neat vertical core.

Materiality drives the project’s identity: Dholpur sandstone fortifies the boundary walls, washed concrete flecked with black and red stone chips grounds the floors, and weathered Corten steel frames enclose the indoor bar, their patina adding warmth to the industrial envelope. It is an architecture that feels both rugged and refined.

The menu mirrors the spatial range, moving fluidly from Italian and Pan-Asian to regional signatures. Chef Samat oversees grills, from spiced Kuzu Kafes to citrus-bright Norwegian salmon. Chef Murat delivers Turkish plates, while the kitchen also nods to Hyderabadi roots with dishes such as Mutton Ghee Roast and Bheema Royyala Vepudu. Desserts include a Rose Pistachio Puddle Cake – best paired with a berry cappuccino for nights that refuse to end.

Babylon is located at Plot no 346,8-2-193/82/A/346/1, Jubilee Hills, Hyderabad, Telangana 500033, India.

Two coastal apartments for brothers occupy a new sea-facing tower on Mumbai’s coveted Worli Sea Face. While it was clear from the get-go that the star in the twin NJM & PVM Apartments project would be the ocean view, the interiors were less certain. Designer Rajiv Saini embraced the challenge of working with two siblings, each with different aesthetic preferences, crafting adjacent homes where each style could shine.

Inside NJM & PVM, two coastal apartments in Mumbai

The two clients' main base is their family home in Ahmedabad, but they both have to head to Mumbai occasionally for business. The high-rise development is designed to have a single apartment per floor, each with a large open-plan layout of about 4,500 sq ft. The brothers acquired one each. However generously sized as the interiors are, it was the location, overlooking the Arabian Sea, which resonated with Saini the most. He knew that the long, blue views would never be obstructed by future developments.

‘The designs for both apartments were driven by the differing brief the two brothers had for their individual apartments. The apartments were originally planned as four bed (with ensuites) spaces, but both were keen to reduce bedrooms to just three. This allowed the possibility of creating an informal lounge room besides the large living dining space. In one apartment this lounge is merely separated from the living room by a wooden slatted screen, while in the other this room can be closed off by a glass sliding partition system and converted into a 4th bedroom, if need ever be,’ explained Saini.

The brothers outlined almost opposing aesthetics in their briefs. One requested a warm, minimalist white space with wood accents. The other preferred a colourful interior with bold, contemporary touches. The biggest challenge was to create two distinct experiences, even though the layouts were not fundamentally different.

‘Since it’s a very tight knit family, the two brothers and their extended families often end up spending time in each others apartments- the challenge was to really make them feel different,’ Saini told Wallpaper*.

‘This was achieved by using a completely different palette of materials and finishes. One apartment has a white marble flooring running throughout the space, with fitted furniture and details all crafted from tropical Asian teak timber. The bathrooms in this apartment are all executed in beige limestone and travertine, and most furnishings were custom-designed and handmade in small ateliers.'

‘The other apartment has a cooler palette of grays and metal, with little accents of colour introduced in the loose furniture, imparting a more contemporary feel to the spaces. The bathrooms here were executed in a grey terrazzo with white tiles and carrara accents.’

On entering, visitors are drawn to the vast open expanse and mesmerising ocean views. Accentuating this with the open-plan nature of the apartments makes them conducive to entertaining – which the owners often do, when their family is in town. Meanwhile, the comfortable outdoor decks effortlessly become natural extensions of the living room, providing animated views of downtown Mumbai to the south and the suburbs of Bandra to the north.

rajiv_saini_associates.com

A new brutalist mosque in northern Kerala, India, echoes qualities found in Tadao Ando’s Church of Light – the simple concrete box in Osaka, cut through by a cruciform, remains one of the most iconic and pivotal statements of religious architecture from the late 20th century. Transforming raw materiality and atmosphere into carriers of faith, the Japanese structure made use of light itself as an intangible medium of architecture, poetically solidifying it through the void – a sensibility now found in this new, Indian project.

Tour this brutalist mosque in Kerala, India

Common Ground’s Masjid an-Noorayn, pared back to the elemental, is shaped from just one material: exposed concrete. With the austere gravitas of brutalist architecture and the contemplative simplicity of the Zen philosophy that first inspired Ando, it is configured with deliberate restraint into a low-lying silhouette, contrasting its tropical context. In stripping away the symbols, ornamentation, and forms that have come to typify Islamic architecture over the centuries (such as domes, arches, geometric motifs, crescents, and stars), the rectilinear planes evoke a return to its earliest origins, defined by simple forms and orientation alone.

A counterbalance to the mosque’s stark geometry is a cylindrical minaret and an entryway drawn out through a concave gesture above a pivoting door. This threshold leads worshippers from brightness into dark and heightens the sensorial shift of arrival into the meditative space within.

Inside, without the use of formal windows, the architects’ experimental explorations introduce light in various ways as a symbol of spirituality: a linear skylight follows the curve of an inverted arch and funnels light down across the walls; the minaret doubles as a lightwell; and a narrow incision between the building’s base and the ground invites a faint glow to seep into the prayer hall. A skylight is also positioned above a central mimbar, the pulpit at which the imam delivers his sermons, forming a symbolic link between the earthly and the divine, while softening and purifying the weight of the concrete and its rough textures.

Designing a community mosque today also inevitably carries cultural weight, and notably, Masjid an-Noorayn was conceived by a team of architects consisting of Muslim women. It was led by Common Ground’s founder, Simi Sreedharan, who, from the outset, ensured that women would have equal access to the space as men. The women’s prayer hall is thus given equal presence from the entrance, and nearby, Sreedharan has also integrated a community space that remains open outside of prayer hours, emphasising the mosque as a civic anchor in the community.

Indian landscape architect Varna Shashidhar, founder and principal of Bengaluru studio VSLA, didn’t always know that her heart – and hands – belonged outdoors. But by the time she earned her master’s in landscape architecture from Harvard’s Graduate School of Design in 2006, she was sure of one thing: a desk job in an air-conditioned office just wasn’t on the cards. ‘Harvard introduced me to fantastic friends and mentors, and led me to the best scientists, ecologists and designers at the cutting edge of the discipline,’ she says. To her mind, the final frontier was working in her own country, but she didn’t mind taking a little detour first.

We meet VSLA, the Indian landscape architecture studio

An internship opportunity with renowned Sri Lankan architect C Anjalendran led her to Colombo, where, for the first time, she experienced architecture not through books or studio models, but by immersing herself in natural and cultural landscapes, and in the quiet rhythm of her mentor’s home studio verandah. ‘It was more than drawing or planning,’ she recalls. ‘Just sitting there, by the Parijata tree, watching how the house breathed with the landscape – it taught me more than any lecture ever could.’ That quiet, open-air classroom would become the seed of her future practice: one guided by observation, intuition, and a profound respect for place.

‘These experiences helped me see my own country from a different perspective – to really examine things I had always taken for granted, and to recognise the beauty of what we have,’ says Shashidhar, who returned to the US after her internship. She spent the next three years honing her skills at Michael Van Valkenburgh Associates in Boston and the Philadelphia-based WRT, both leading landscape architecture firms. But by 2010, the pull to return home and chart her own path became impossible to ignore. Her vision took root when she founded VSLA in her Bengaluru garage.

These days, for Shashidhar, the line between work and life has all but disappeared. ‘Landscape has a way of touching your chitta,’ she says, using the Sanskrit word for consciousness. ‘In India, you encounter a different terrain every day. One day, you’re walking barefoot on a pilgrimage; the next, you’re tending to wildflowers in your garden. Everything here feels deeply personal.’ And equally beautiful – because if there’s one thing Shashidhar has mastered, it’s finding beauty in the everyday.

As she puts it, ‘The most compelling landscapes evolve gradually, shaped by time, terrain, and a deep harmony with native ecosystems.’ Though her studio has grown over the years, she’s intentionally resisted scaling up. ‘I see the benefit of maintaining a small practice. It allows for an intimacy of spirit, with each other and with the landscape,’ she explains. Her team rarely exceeds four members. And just as she doesn’t measure impact by size, she doesn’t measure value by budget either. ‘The more challenging the project,’ she says, ‘the better.’

It’s no surprise, then, that her portfolio reads like a Wunderkammer – a rich collection of institutional landscapes, private gardens, and everything in between. ‘I’ve always seen private homes as a space to experiment and learn,’ she says. ‘But ultimately, the goal is to give back and create impact at a more public scale.’ She is particular about approaching landscapes through a local lens, ‘exploring plant palettes and uncovering those quiet, unique elements that make our landscapes so distinctive’.

Her projects span a wide range of scales and intentions – from the creation of didactic, ecology-driven landscape for a school in 2015 to the design of a verdant garden of native edibles and medicinal plants for Byg Brewski, then India’s largest microbrewery, in 2018. The following year, she transformed a one-acre site at the Bangalore International Centre into an urban remediation landscape, featuring over 75 species of indigenous and adapted vegetation.

Currently, she’s working on a healing garden in Kathiwada, Madhya Pradesh, and the landscape of a museum near Hampi, yet another step in her ongoing pursuit to root design in care, context and culture. In Shashidhar’s world, the grass isn’t just greener – it’s native, intentional, and quietly revolutionary.

A new café-restaurant hybrid has taken root in Mumbai’s Matunga neighbourhood, and despite spanning a generous 2,000 sq ft, Bomdia Brasserie feels like a bijou, tucked-away hideout. It’s the kind of place where mornings begin with the soft haze of pastel light, and evenings wind down in deeper, more intimate tones. Behind the interiors is local firm Studio RCI, which wanted the brasserie to ‘unfold like a story, detail by detail’. That narrative plays out across two distinct levels, each with its own tone, tempo and spatial rhythm.

Bomdia Brasserie: Mumbai’s cosiest new address

Downstairs is the café: light, calm, almost coastal in mood. A muted, minimal palette gives space for materiality and form to take the lead; curved quartz and wooden tables anchor the room, sculptural and softly organic. Lighting is central to the ambience, with totemic lamps by Harshita Jhamtani Designs casting a diffused, amber glow. These are paired with cane, cloth and clay fixtures, reinforcing the sense of warmth and tactility. ‘Flooring, checkered walls, and the ceiling all feature custom laser-cut tile patterns, creating a visual rhythm that ties everything together,’ explains Ruchika Chhabria, principal designer at Studio RCI.

Upstairs, things take a moodier turn. Conceived as a fine dining space, the palette deepens: terracotta, ink blue and smoked neutrals create a more atmospheric tone. Lighting remains a key element; mirroring the café below is a sprawling sculptural cane fixture by Hatsu. The laser-cut tile motif also reappears, but in bolder wave patterns and more saturated tones. Sliding doors have been added to create pockets of privacy for quieter dining moments.

The menu, much like the space, flexes depending on where you’re sitting. Downstairs, the modern-day café offers a broad, but approachable spread: coffees, teas, fresh juices, milkshakes and smoothies, paired with a range of baked goods and light bites, from sweet to savoury. Upstairs, the offering widens: continental staples meet Eastern and Southern Asian touches. Think pizzas, salads, sandwiches, soups, but also dim sum, sushi and sizzlers. Comfort food, with a global accent.

Bomdia Brasserie is located at Kalpataru Matru Ashish, 40019, Bhaudaji Rd, Matunga East, Mumbai, Maharashtra 400019, India.

My first encounter with the Kanade brothers’ work was by chance; my second was by design. I was on my way to meet Shankar Kanade, who I think is one of the last practising modernist architecture masters left in India, when my phone rang. It was Praveen Mali, an architect based in the nearby city of Sangli, who, among others, like Siddaram Patil and Chakor Salunkhe, helps look after Shankar whenever needed.

'Would you like to stay in Sir’s house?' he asked. The question caught me by surprise. A year had passed since I first visited the house in the village of Nagaj, and its image had been imprinted on my mind ever since. The thought of staying there felt like my own personal ‘Pierre Jeanneret moment’, a chance to inhabit the architecture, not just observe it.

Visiting the Kanade brothers at their home

'Do you drink?' Praveen asked next. 'Sir sometimes likes to have a beer with friends.' The question seemed incongruous, given the frail, nearly blind, and hard-of-hearing person I remembered. But it was a clue, a humanising thread that led back to the 1980s when the Kanade brothers were part of the BASE group. BASE, as I’d later learn from a documentary by the filmmaking studio Teepoi, stood for 'Beer and Slides Evening.' It was an informal gathering of architects, now veterans of the Indian scene, who, along with the Kanades, would host modern masters like Charles Correa and the Pritzker Prize-winning B.V. Doshi, debating late into the night. The beer, I realised, was part of the legacy.

The first time I stood before the house, I was with a group of 40-odd young architects. We were there to meet Shankar (b. 1937) and his younger brother, Navnath (b. 1944). Navnath, who had designed this house as their final project, led the conversation. He had sharp features and a satisfied serenity on his face, but he was not a grand public speaker; ‘ask me questions,’ he said first thing. He spoke through his work. I asked him how his architecture was Gandhian.

He gave a thoughtful answer about the simplicity of the space and the truthfulness of the materials. 'To be Gandhian is difficult,' Navnath laughed during our earlier meeting, 'but we try to be honest with the material.' Exposed stone, no plaster, and workmanship good enough to leave nothing to hide. His critique of polished walls still rings: 'Rich man’s plaster is so shiny the house tells you: touch me not.'

Shankar, meanwhile, sat quietly, interjecting only when he could grasp a fragment of the audio. It was the first and last time I would meet Navnath. He passed away in November 2024. Less than a year later, I was back, getting to know him through the house he left behind, through the books on his shelves, and through the stories his brother now told.

The house is a masterclass in quiet confidence. From the outside, it presents as a modernist composition of cubic volumes, built from locally quarried laterite stone. The only other colours are two shades of green, used to highlight elements like doors and windows, making them pop subtly against the earthy red laterite stone.

The entrance sequence is a carefully choreographed procession. At ground level, past a garage, a curved wall conceals a space for washing one’s feet—a nod to local custom. From there, a staircase leads up to a landing with a built-in niche to store shoes and a bench to sit on while removing them. As you step inside, you realise the house is arranged in split levels. You can go up to the living space or down towards the bedrooms and the first of two courtyards.

I love the scale of these courtyards. They are not gigantic, impersonal voids, but intimate, human-scaled spaces that offer privacy without feeling cramped, avoiding the fate of becoming mere light shafts. The corridors that connect them are low, encouraging movement, while the rooms for sitting and relaxing have higher ceilings, inviting pause. Navnath designed the house as one continuous, flowing space. Barring the bedrooms and toilets, there are no rigid divisions. Air, he believed, should choose its own path.

What truly brings the design to life is the furniture, much of it designed by the brothers themselves. I found multiple types of chairs, each with a story. One wooden drafting chair, used during long studio hours, featured a rolling backrest made from a PVC pipe, designed by Shankar to provide dynamic lumbar support. The beds are as simple as one can imagine, stripped of pretence but integrated with clever storage. This is modernism not as an aesthetic, but as a lived-in, problem-solving methodology.

'I am not a businessman. I have no idea how to do business,' Shankar told me as we sat talking. Now approaching his 90s, he is still full of life, his mind sharp despite his physical frailties. He was the first of nine brothers to leave the village, enrolling in a diploma program at the Sir J.J. School of Architecture in Mumbai because it was cheaper than the degree course, though notoriously tough to pass. It was there, he recounted, that his modernism was truly ignited. A friend took him to the library and showed him a book with a photograph of a building with a starkly minimal facade. It was designed by Walter Gropius of the Bauhaus. That image was a turning point.

After a period in Ahmedabad working with B.V. Doshi and Bernard Kohn, while Louis Kahn was building the iconic IIM campus, Shankar moved to Bangalore to establish his own practice in 1975. His brother Navnath joined him in 1980, returning to India after a formative period in the USA that included a stint in 1973 as an associate architect with the visionary architect Paolo Soleri, who, they say, empowered his imagination to design beyond the immediately buildable.

Together, their firm Shilpa Sindoor began a quiet revolution. 'We built around 178 houses with local stone and a system that we designed to decrease the cost and increase affordability for the middle class of Bangalore,' Shankar told me. Their innovative use of thin stone slabs, known as the 'Chapadi system,' became their signature. Apart from this, they worked on countless housing projects, including townships, a rehabilitation centre and a cultural centre.

This philosophy perhaps found its most perfect expression in Keremane (1995), their most celebrated project. A cluster of six houses designed for a group of families on a lakeside plot in Bangalore, Keremane, or 'House by the Lake,' is the culmination of their ideals. It featured low-cost, context-driven homes built with the Chapadi system, each organised around a triple-height courtyard that provides light and natural ventilation. It proved that affordable housing could be deeply humane and architecturally ingenious, earning them a state award and cementing their legacy.

Shankar returned to Nagaj about fifteen years ago, after his vision began to fail. 'I actually started to truly see architecture only when I lost my vision,' he smiled, appreciating the paradox. It was then that Navnath designed two final acts of architecture for him. The first is the house I stayed in, a shared home for them both, standing proudly on one side of the highway. The second, where Shankar now lives, is a more modest one-room house with a loft within their ancestral wada on the other side of the road. It brings his journey full circle, echoing how he first started his practice in Bangalore, working in a one-room studio and sleeping on the mezzanine of the same room. It is a final, personal sanctuary.

Inhabiting their shared home, with Shankar living just across the way, felt like being in a conversation with both brothers, with Shankar’s memories and with the tangible evidence of Navnath’s deep, fraternal care. It’s an architecture of continuity and quiet integrity. As Navnath himself said in our last meeting, their work wasn't about radical breaks, but about a progressive, evolving journey, just like life.

For those of us still on that journey, the house in Nagaj stands as an essential, if hushed, waypoint. The Kanades’ legacy isn't just in stone and laterite; it's a challenge to a new generation of architects to look beyond the official canon, to seek out our own masters, and to understand that the most profound architecture is often the one we have to discover for ourselves.

The world of design is a pendulum, swinging between innovation and nostalgia. In recent years, we’ve seen a return to vernacular aesthetics and traditional methods – a shift driven by the demands of climate responsibility, a deepening focus on cultural authenticity, and resistance to the homogenising force of mass production.

India, home to one of the world’s richest design heritages, is emerging as a vanguard of this movement. Across the country, design and architecture studios are reclaiming indigenous narratives and practices. One such practice is Design ni Dukaan, based in Ahmedabad, which works across architecture, interiors, furniture and product design.

Its latest collection, ‘Roop Aroop’, is a bold revival of endangered Indian crafts. But this is not merely an exercise in preservation – the collection seeks to weave the threads of tradition into the fabric of contemporary life. ‘Roop Aroop’ is inspired by ‘Yugan Yugan Hum Yogi’, a verse attributed to 15th-century mystic poet Sant Kabir which meditates on the idea of timelessness – a characteristic that Design ni Dukaan attributes to Indian craft.

The collection revives two endangered methods: Sujani, an intricate form of embroidery and quilting practiced in rural Gujarat, and Pathamadai Pai, a meticulous process of mat weaving using hand-prepared grass from Tamil Nadu.

The former is brought to life in the Rafiq ni Sujani Partition, a foldable screen created in collaboration with design studio Raasleela and crafted by Rafiq Bhai, the last Sujani artisan in his lineage. The piece uses a double-cloth weaving method, where warp and weft interchange to form cotton-filled pockets. This creates a distinctive tactile quality as well as allowing light to pass through the fabric’s dense weave.

Pathamadai Pai is celebrated through pieces created in collaboration with Majja Design Studio, along with the last active craft cluster in Tamil Nadu. The Banu Pai Cabinet features abstract geometric patterns on its shutters, while the Beevi Pai Swing reinterprets the traditional mats as seating elements, with pixel-like motifs cascading from the backrest to the seat.

Beyond textiles, ‘Roop Aroop’ also integrates wood and brass pieces. The Ras Bhari Chair features dismantlable joinery, while the Gyaan Peeu serves as both a study table and a chest of drawers featuring veneer patterns, brass motifs and vibrant panels.

The Sukh Asan – a reinterpretation of the traditional floor-level seating used in Indian meditation, prayer and ritual – is a hand-shaped chair, its contours shaped by the natural grain of the wood. The Sangat Manch table, meanwhile, draws inspiration from a parasol, with its hand-carved curves resting on a single brass rod to create the illusion of weightlessness.

As the design world continues to swing between innovation and inheritance, 'Roop Aroop' offers a blueprint for how the two can coexist.

'It was a forgotten and neglected part of the city that hardly anybody would go to,' says Rahul Kadri, partner and principal at Mumbai practice IMK Architects, of a 12.5-acre piece of lush tropical forest in the Malabar Hill neighbourhood of the Indian megalopolis. One of the city’s last remaining natural ecosystems, it now features an elevated walkway from which to admire its flora and fauna, enjoy panoramic views of the city and get some relief from the 'concrete jungle' that is one of India’s largest cities.

Explore Malabar Hill's elevated forest trail in Mumbai

Designed by Kadri to follow the path of older trails at ground level, the Malabar Hill Elevated Nature Trail is made out of timber for its deck and balustrades and supported by epoxy-coated V-shaped structural steel columns. As you walk its 482m path you might spot birds such as kingfishers, bulbuls, and parakeets and enjoy unusual aerial perspectives of more than 100 species of tree, including mango, coconut, jackfruit, almond and gulmohar trees. Though the views are unique at every point, the most memorable might just be those of Mumbai’s famous Girgaon Chowpatty Beach and the city coastline and Arabian Sea beyond afforded from the observation point on one side.

Kadri feels particularly strongly about this project as he remembers spending many happy hours roaming this forest with his dogs as a teenager back in the 1970s. By the 1990s the area was being used for liquor brewing and drug-consumption he says, and had become a dumping ground for rubbish and construction waste. 'It became a dark underbelly in the heart of what is one of Mumbai’s most exclusive neighbourhoods.' Eventually the local government department that owns the land sealed it off.

It was during the first Covid lockdown that Kadri and his wife popped through a gap in the fence and rediscovered this splendid micro forest. 'She was amazed by its beauty and her amazement rekindled a desire in me to share it with more people,' says Kadri. He set about pitching it as a pro bono project to the local government (or BMC, Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation).

He got the nearby Nepeansea Road Citizens’ Forum, of which he is chairperson, on board and enlisted the support of leading steel manufacturer JSW Steel and arranged to meet the local government tourism and environment minister at the time, Aaditya Thackeray. 'It’s rare that the stars align with proposals like these, but he understood what we were trying to do right away,' says Kadri.

IMK architects’ elevated timber-and-steel design wisely keeps disturbance to the forest floor and surrounding wildlife to a minimum. 'We were also very careful to light the walkway in such a way that no light spills into the forest,' Kadri continues. Moreover, the timber used for the walkway is a sustainably grown Indonesian Teak from Kerala, which 'will just have to be oiled once a year' and merges almost seamlessly into the forest landscape.

In order to keep the experience as nature-oriented as possible, as well as fund some of the trail's maintenance, entrance to the walkway is ticketed at 25 rupees (£0.21) for Indians and 100 rupees (£0.85) for foreigners for a one-hour slot, and limited to 200 people at a time. 'Initially the government was looking at 600 people per slot but we managed to convince them that people were going into a forest so the atmosphere should be serene and not crowded,' says Kadri.

The feedback so far has been overwhelmingly positive with people making the trip from other cities and school and architect groups also visiting. Despite being open from 5am to 9pm, the walkway has been so popular that 'it’s almost impossible to get a ticket at short notice, you have to book at least a week in advance’, says Kadri. ‘A few people have visited and said, “there’s nothing there”,’ he continues with a smile, adding ‘I think they expected more manmade features.’ But any extravagant extras or bells and whistles were purposely eschewed for a more aesthetically pleasing – and affordable – minimalism.

Plans to add a glass-bottomed observation deck, for instance, or make a complete loop or even two complete loops, were done away with, given the expense and greater potential, with the latter, for disturbing the forest floor, given the steeper slopes involved. The glass-bottomed deck also didn’t make sense because the walkway isn’t really high enough (its maximum height is 5m) to warrant it. And Kadri felt it would take the focus away from what mattered. 'When we designed the walkway, we said it should be as simple as it can be, so that it is just about enjoying the forest.'

In the three months it has been open, the new walkway has also sparked a lot of interest and talk about the need for more access to green spaces and for conserving living ecosystems in the city. 'Even the government is asking us, where else can we do this?' says Kadri. In fact, the practice is in the initial phase of doing something similar in a 75-acre forest on a hill in Pimpri-Chinchwad, 'one of the most industrialised cities in the state,' located just 150km southwest of Mumbai. The Malabar Hill Elevated Nature Trail looks set to become one of those rare architectural projects that isn’t just successful in its own right, but that leads to a demand for other nature-led (design) experiences, as well as a greater understanding of their value.

naturetrail.mcgm.gov.in

Walking through Pierre Jeanneret’s home in Chandigarh last year, where sunlight is filtered to near heavenly effect by brick jalis, architect, writer and photographer Nipun Prabhakar found himself reflecting on the designer’s celebrated teak library chairs. Once conceived as utilitarian hostel furniture, the 1950s design is now prized at auctions in Paris and beyond. For Prabhakar – who co-runs design studio Dhammada Collective alongside Simran Channa and Nilesh Suman – the disconnect was striking. ‘The dissonance was loud,’ he says. ‘Furniture conceived as public utility transfigured into luxury commodity.’

Back in his home city of Bhopal, the team posed a question: if a chair can be elevated by fetish value alone, can it also be humbled – re-earthed – by waste?

Dhammada Collective's 'Paper Tube' chair

The project began with a simple act of salvage. Twice a month, the offset print shop down the lane from the collective's studio discards a small mountain of cardboard cores. These thick tubes, made unrecyclable locally due to a glue layer that inhibits pulping, are destined for landfill. ‘We talked to Sachin, the print shop owner, and asked him to save them for us,’ explains Prabhakar. After rescuing a few tubes for quick studio mock-ups, their silent presence began to hint at a larger possibility.

Could these industrial leftovers be used to make a real seat? ‘The very thought felt mischievous, almost heretical – and that’s exactly why we chased it,’ says Prabhakar. Inspired by Shigeru Ban’s use of paper tubes in architecture, the team – including Prabhakar, Channa, Suman and intern Joy Hrangkhawl – began experimenting on a micro scale.

Their first instinct was to recreate a Chandigarh chair in cardboard. ‘It failed marvellously: glue sheared, legs splayed, tubes buckled,’ recalls Prabhakar. But failure proved a crucial turning point, prompting the team to abandon imitation and pursue intent instead. The result is the 'Paper Tube' chair – not a replica, but an experiment in fairness, repairability, and what they call ‘joyful frugality’.

The structure is deceptively simple: cut like bamboo, 15 paper tubes are bound together using a continuous figure-eight lashing in bright vermilion rope, left over from a weaving workshop. ‘Where cardboard dislikes drilling, rope performs a quiet miracle,’ says Prabhakar. The rope tightens under load, flexes with movement, and keeps each component replaceable. ‘Early prototypes collapsed in spectacular fashion, teaching us to insert smaller tubes at key joints and to trust tension over glue.’

The tubes are kept hollow, doubling as discreet storage pockets. ‘Slide a notebook into one arm, tuck away spectacles in another, or store pencils under the seat,’ he suggests.

One challenge was edge wear caused by friction and weight. ‘To solve this, we 3D-printed protective bases for the bottoms,’ says Prabhakar. ‘We also reinforced the rope holes with 3D-printed washers.’ The result is a design that’s honest about its origins: each tube is finished with a thin coat of varnish that seals the fibres but leaves every scratch and printer’s code visible, a subtle nod to its past life.

For Dhammada, the 'Paper Tube' chair is an open-source invitation for others to experiment. ‘If you can grab a few print-shop tubes and some rope, you already have everything you need,’ says Prabhakar. ‘Lashing is a skill to be learnt, but beyond that, I’m keeping the project light – just an invitation. I’ll be happy to share our experiences and failures with anyone interested.’

The team is now developing a series of paper-tube birdhouses in various shapes and sizes. ‘It’s a simple way to show how far an overlooked waste stream can travel when you treat it as structure, not scrap.’

dhammadacollective.com

‘Streets are much more than just physical paths; they are where life unfolds, where different stories, cultures, and connections converge. They serve as the backdrop for shared experiences, friendships, and memories,’ write the architects at Studio VDGA, who have just completed a very unusual, 15,000 sq ft clubhouse for a new community on the outskirts of Pune in Maharashtra, western India.

Known as ‘The Street’, it comprises a series of indoor and outdoor spaces, which together ‘create a rhythmic flow, encouraging pauses, interaction, and togetherness’. Designed to be shared by the owners of the 240 surrounding plots, the project is contemporary in style, but rooted in local culture, its purpose to complement the traditional Indian way of life.

Discover the flowing design of this Pune clubhouse

Unlike most clubhouses, it is designed as an open space promoting social interactions. It is also full of surprises: like a meandering street, there are moments of surprise and pause, and places for people to stop and have a chat in the shade. To encourage this seamless sense of connectivity, there are no doors or windows – apart from in the washrooms, of course.

‘The architecture encourages interaction, movement, and shared experiences,’ explains Studio VDGA’s Deepak Gugarii, who designed the community hub with Rashi Saanson and project architect Viplav Paithankar. ‘It’s not just a building but a living street where activities overlap, people meet organically, and the boundaries between built and open spaces blur.

Residents can now meet and celebrate events together in a variety of venues, including an open-air banquet hall or multipurpose space with a protective roof and overhangs, an amphitheatre, a gazebo for casual gatherings and an open kitchen and outdoor restaurant.

There’s also a central plaza for festivals, yoga, or community events, as well as a small store, a courtyard designed for meditation, and a compact gym with showers, lockers and washrooms. The swimming pool is surrounded by a series of arches and tall brick walls, creating a peaceful and private retreat.

Made of local red brick and raw concrete finishes, the various buildings are integrated into the landscape and partially submerged into the earth, following the old principles of ‘cut and fill’ construction to minimise their visual impact on neighbouring plots. One thing stands out, though: a water tower on the southern side of the site draws inspiration from traditional Indian towns and villages, where water towers served as landmarks.

‘What I personally love is the honest use of locally sourced materials like Indian lime stone, red clay bricks, and IPS (Indian Patent Stone), a traditional flooring made using a mix of cement, sand, and fine marble powder,’ says Gugarii.

‘Though the budget was modest, it never limited our vision of creating a high-quality community space. We embraced the Indian way of living – where celebrations, conversations, and daily life spill out into open, shared spaces. That spirit of openness and informality was something we consciously celebrated.’

The concept for the Street is also inspired by Vastu Shastra, an ancient Indian spatial science based on the Vastu Purusha Mandala, a nine-square cosmic diagram rooted in climatology and energy alignment, which mainly focuses on the sun, wind patterns, and cosmic energy flow.

‘In this project, we respected these principles by aligning zones and circulation based on orientation, ensuring that each space draws the best of light, ventilation, and positive energy,’ explains Gugarii. ‘It’s less about superstition and more about sensitivity to site, climate, and the comfort of those who will inhabit the space.'

vdga.in

This duplex New Delhi residence by Amit Khanna of AKDA rises up above the Indian capital's busy streets, dominated by its façade of slender brick-clad columns and arches. These curve back to form a distinctive combination of vault and buttress that gives the building its name, the Pendentive House.

Walk through a uniquely sculpted New Delhi residence

In architectural geometry, a pendentive is described as a ‘curved triangle of vaulting formed by the intersection of a dome with its supporting arches’. It’s a piece of transitional geometry that Khanna describes as being a ‘notoriously difficult object to draw and to build… Spherical in three dimensions, it is the intersection of two arches and a dome, creating a triangular surface that curves along all three edges.’

Nine of these forms make up the façade, arranged in a square grid that gives the building a unique character, placing an emphasis on the vertical without losing the quality of craft and form that the arches create. The arches are shaped from hand-cut thin bricks supported by a steel formwork and create a deep-set façade that helps the building’s solar performance in the New Delhi heat, thanks to the provision of both shade and cross ventilation.

The building is a single private residence divided into two stacked duplexes. On the ground floor there is parking, with recreational spaces in the basement and a top floor roof terrace with a pergola. Each duplex follows a similar arrangement, with the living spaces on the lower floors (second and fourth) and more open plan private spaces on the upper (third and fifth).

Despite the relatively tight 60 x 27 ft site, the amount of accommodation has been achieved by building up, predicting future development in a city that is becoming increasingly dense. Upper floors have views of the 13th-century Qutub Minar tower, with a park to the rear and a mature mango tree helping shade the front façade.

The lower duplex features three large ensuite bedrooms on its second level, as well as an internal staircase that rises up to the open plan living space on its third floor. There are clear views from the pendentive arches and balcony at the front to a terrace adjoining the dining area at the rear of the building, with space also provided for a modest guest room. In the upper duplex, a skylit staircase connects the levels to bring natural light into the lower level.

Amit Khanna has created an archetype to address the future of outdated, low-level construction in a city of rapidly rising land values. ‘This project looks to a future of standard height, shaded façades that share a roofline [which] is raised to match future development, while strong, horizontal lines are emphasised on the floor levels,’ he says.

Before construction, the studio built several prototypes to master the intricate forms of the pendentive. As a result, the level of detail design on the façade is both forward-thinking and a nod to India’s rich traditions of architectural craft and geometric design.

AKDA.in

In the suburbs of Hyderabad, India’s tech-hub city, a leafy neem tree shades the courtyard belonging to the new Soil & Soul Studio, providing a hidden shady oasis. Located in the town of Chevella, this live/work space fuses contemporary sustainable living with traditional design.

Tour Soil & Soul Studio in Hyderabad

The project, which is housed within an established farmhouse community, was designed and executed by Iki Builds, whose team wanted to create a peaceful environment for a working-from-home single person. The design focuses on functionality and minimalism, while merging indoor and outdoor living spaces.

‘The primary inspiration was the site itself,’ says principal architect Vamshidhar Reddy. ‘We were working within a mature farmhouse community, a place with an established, verdant character. My main goal was to create a studio that didn't feel like a foreign object dropped into this landscape, but rather something that grew out of it. I wanted the building to feel as if it had always been there, nestled amongst the trees.’

A core anchor for the design was the 30-year-old neem tree in the front yard, and the studio was designed to embrace this. ‘This led us to a material palette and construction philosophy rooted in the earth,’ Reddy told Wallpaper*. ‘Using salvaged debris from nearby demolitions and soil excavated directly from the site for the walls, for instance, was a direct way of translating this inspiration into the physical structure. The building literally emerges from its surroundings, creating a deep connection to the place.

'The inspiration didn't rely on importing a preconceived style, but on letting the context dictate the form and feel. We looked at materials that were part of the local vernacular and techniques that would allow the building to become a natural extension of the landscape. This is accentuated by the open courtyard dining area.'

Reddy adds, ‘I hope visitors feel the embrace of the building's earthy materiality. The textural richness of the debris walls, the warmth of the surkhi-pigmented lime flooring underfoot – these elements are meant to be tactile and grounding. The play of light is crucial to this experience.

'Strategically placed large openings and the permeable casuarina-wood roof over the courtyard are designed to wash the interiors with natural light, framing views of the landscape and creating a constant, quiet dialogue with nature. Ultimately, I want visitors to feel that they have entered a tranquil haven, a space that is both simple and profound, where the architecture itself encourages mindfulness and a deeper appreciation for the natural world.’

The studio is an example of aesthetically beautiful architecture that is woven into its context and is environmentally cautious. Says Reddy: ‘My favourite part [of the building] is the feeling that we’ve created not just a house, but a blueprint for a more conscious way of building and living.’

ikibuilds.com

'If you get a chance, try to book Jeanneret’s house,' a friend casually suggested, as I was planning a trip to a project in the adjacent state of Himachal Pradesh. I carved out a few days for a detour through Chandigarh, and the mild March morning of my arrival offered little hint of what awaited me at House No. 57, Sector 5.

The possibility of a stay in this modernist gem seemed unreal – the Jeanneret house? Yet, it was true, and surprisingly accessible too, a secret hiding in plain sight. Many other guests I met during my stay had discovered it only after wandering into the ground-floor modernist architecture museum, realising one can stay and book a night on impulse. It's also interesting to know that the rent is discounted for architects and research scholars.

Spending the night at Pierre Jeanneret’s house in Chandigarh

The house itself (now called Maison Jeanneret) offers no grand pronouncements. Once the personal home of architect Pierre Jeanneret, Le Corbusier’s cousin and key collaborator in shaping Chandigarh, it sits quietly amid trees within a tranquil, affluent neighbourhood. It doesn’t demand attention; instead, it invites you in slowly, like a well-told story. For 11 years, Jeanneret lived here, translating the city's futuristic modernist principles into a tangible reality suited to the Indian context. While Le Corbusier set the vision but kept a base in Paris, Jeanneret remained in the region, patiently working with local teams, designing landmarks like the Gandhi Bhawan and the Punjab University campus. This house feels like the nucleus of that effort.

It's a quiet masterpiece of exposed brick, river-stone masonry, blue and orange-painted walls, and concrete – the very essence of Chandigarh's palette miniaturised. Big balconies, brick jalis filtering light, and precisely placed openings orchestrate a subtle rhythm of light and air. There is also a rhythm in materials, scale, and space – that sinks into you.

The upper floor, where guests stay, holds three rooms. I found myself in the central one – Jeanneret’s own bedroom, anchored by a small but magnificent, horizontally pivoted eye-shaped window, a sculptural whisper on the otherwise curved yet humble backyard façade. To the right, I was told by a guest living there (and we later confirmed by looking at a historical photograph), was where Le Corbusier stayed during his visits; the third room was likely for other guests. Occupying these spaces felt strangely intimate – brushing my teeth where Jeanneret once stood, sleeping where he might have contemplated the city taking shape outside.

Yet, for all its design pedigree, the house speaks of simplicity. The bathroom felt utilitarian, modest even by midcentury standards. A curious, almost phallic form cast onto an exterior bathroom wall remains an intriguing puzzle. The elegance here isn't grandeur, but thoughtful consideration. Mornings brought hot aloo parathas and chai from the caretaker, served in the small dining space next to the kitchen on the ground floor – a touch of Punjabi warmth that softened the strict modernist lines, making it feel less like a museum piece and more like a home.

This sense of lived history was amplified when my colleague at Dhammada Collective, Simran Channa, encountered Deepika Gandhi, former director of the Chandigarh Architecture Museum and the architect who oversaw the house’s restoration, which commenced in 2016 and ended with the museum's opening in 2017. Called downstairs, I listened as she shared the painstaking process of bringing the house back to its essence.

The house had been long used and constructed over by bureaucrats. Even sourcing matching bricks posed a challenge, requiring them to wait until identical ones were salvaged from an old mill demolition just to get the wall alignments right. The precision demanded immense patience. Gandhi shared how she deliberately sought out elderly craftsmen, 'Babajis', who had worked in that era, even bringing some out of retirement. 'How did they used to do that?' she would ask them, relying on their embodied knowledge to guide the careful, slow work of removal and repair without damaging the original fabric.

Layer by layer, they peeled back later additions – such as a plastic film pasted over glass, or the startling peach paint covering entire walls.

On the doors alone, she recounted, they scraped away five layers of paint accumulated over the decades, revealing the original wood grain beneath. What emerged wasn't just architectural detail, but intent. Because original drawings were often missing, she explained, finer points sometimes had to be reconstructed just by scaling old photographs – architectural detective work to recover lost dimensions and forms. 'Even the imperfections are part of the story,' she noted.

She even laughed about finding three electrical plug points clustered in one spot on a wall, wondering aloud what Jeanneret could possibly have needed them for back then – 'Did he have a laptop?' It was a reminder of the small, everyday mysteries embedded in the walls, connecting his time to ours. The house breathes; it accepts light, shadow, silence, and the echoes of footsteps on oxide floors.

To live here, even for a few days, is to inhabit the spirit of Chandigarh itself. In the 1950s, Jawaharlal Nehru envisioned the city as 'a new town, symbolic of the freedom of India, unfettered by the traditions of the past'. Jeanneret's house feels like a workshop where that future was quietly forged, brick by brick. It wasn't merely about imposing European modernism, but about adapting, testing, and learning – creating an architecture for a new independent India.

Situated next to the Sukhna Lake, the house even had a replica of a pedal boat Jeanneret had built for himself. There is a famous photograph of him and Le Corbusier paddling in the lake. After Jeanneret’s death, his ashes were scattered in the same Sukhna Lake.

Back at the house, the museum below and the residency above mean this building feels alive and remains a living archive. Staying there felt like accessing a slower time, deeply connecting to ideas and the intimate routines of life – how one rests, gathers, works, or simply breathes on a verandah. Jeanneret, often overshadowed by Le Corbusier, championed an architecture of humility, privileging comfort and longevity over spectacle.

As I prepared to leave, I glanced back at the eye-shaped window. Open slightly, tilted, it seemed to be still watching over the city it helped nurture. Spending time within its gaze reminded me that great architecture isn't just about form; it’s profoundly about care – the care of the original designer, and the care of those who work to preserve it.

chandigarhtourism.gov.in