What happens when brutalist and modernist references unite? Coy Yiontis Architects’ Glenblaith house is the answer – a quirky concrete residence in the prestigious Manifold Heights neighbourhood in Victoria, Australia.

Tour Glenblaith, a residence where brutalism and modernism collide

The single-storey residence was designed as a ‘forever home’ for a professional couple. Its façade is smooth, geometric and mysterious, with a timber entry that acts as a moveable screen to slowly unveil its introverted core.

‘The client approached us after following the work of the practice for over ten years,’ explains the firm’s director, George Yiontis. ‘Armed with magazine clippings of our previous projects, there was a clear focus on the courtyard house typology and use of robust, natural materials.

'Concrete and timber were the protagonists in the vision of their new home, integrated with a prominent and lush landscape to satisfy her green thumb and provide a focus in retirement years.'

The home's anchor is the 4.8m oculus, a subtle nod to midcentury design hinting to the fluid curvature of The TWA Flight Center and architect John Lautner’s 1979 Hope Residence. This architectural ode foreshadows the intricate design codes within the rest of the home.

Yiontis notes, ‘The building’s appearance from the street is unassuming but different; the low-lying concrete form is recessed from its fenceless boundary and the lush front yard contrasts the endless stretch of newly volume-built and post-war neighbours with their pitched roofs and fenced, manicured lawns. While conforming to planning guidelines, the house is an anomaly in the streetscape.’

In this context, Glenblaith was conceived to challenge the traditional conventions of suburbia and its landscape. The architecture firm made sure to utilise unorthodox materials and small nooks to keep an element of surprise.

The monolithic concrete columns frame the large atrium-cum-courtyard space, complete with a lily pond, offering a central green utopia with the residence. Beyond this, the house is divided into separate wings; one intimate, one for living and entertaining.

Other unexpected design details include a small alcove in the bedroom, which has been utilised as a desk space, while a window has been artfully barricaded with an intriguing brick pattern, allowing the shadows to dance on the floor below.

Coy Yiontis Architects has redefined suburbia, stepping away from the white-picket-fenced, cookie-cutter mould, and presenting a new benchmark for living: a vibrant garden house that doesn’t shout or demand attention, but is slowly discovered and enjoyed.

coyyiontis.com.au

Your latest cartographic assignment from Blue Crow Media is this map of modern Rome, a guide to over 50 examples from among the eternal city’s best-known and most impressive 20th-century architecture.

Mappa di Roma Moderna has been edited by the architect and author Jacopo Costanzo, while Stefano Perego has contributed original photography, showing these buildings in their contemporary state. The folded map is the newest addition to a long-running series of architectural city maps and monographs – see also BCM’s guide to Brutalist Boston and Concrete Montreal amongst many others.

Rome’s contemporary gems are spliced into a cityscape that’s evolved over millennia, with the outer suburbs better represented with contemporary work. One of the cradles of both modernism and rationalism, the city has an impressive collection of contemporary churches and public infrastructure, as well as large-scale housing by the likes of Carlo Aymonino, Mario De Renzi and Studio Passarelli.

Other highlights include Luigi Moretti's Palazzina Girasole, the Palazzetto dello Sport by the famed structural engineer Pier Luigi Nervi, and Sir Basil Spence’s British Embassy. Blue Crow’s maps are a must for the modern architectural tourist, providing insight and context into the major 20th century works that have shaped European cities, whilst also highlighting overlooked gems that are due for a revival.

Halle 2 Safety is a welcome slab of austere Swiss modernism, strictly shaped for function yet rich in detail and quality. Designed to house the emergency services at Payerne Air Base, a Swiss Air Force facility just south of Lake Neuchâtel, the building is described by its architects as a ‘high-performance working tool’ as well as a pleasant place to live for teams that need to live on site whilst on duty.

The project was designed by RDR architects, a firm founded in 1993 by Jacques Richter and Ignacio Dahl Rocha and initially based only in Buenos Aires. Today, it also has outposts in Madrid and Lausanne, and it was the latter team, led by Kenneth Ross, Antoine Barc, and Frédéric Comby, who have overseen the delivery of this substantial 4,000 m² complex.

Halle 2’s main function is to house the fire service and rescue units, with living accommodation alongside the hangars and garages for the base’s fire tenders and associated vehicles. The building has to provide for about 100 personnel at any one time, with all the accompanying space for logistics, training and administration in addition to temporary living spaces.

Halle 2 is an unashamedly authentic representation of the oft-quoted maxim ‘form follows function’. Long and low, with supergraphic signage that leaves no question about what happens within, the structure represents, in RDR’s words, ‘architectural restraint, environmental sustainability, and spatial quality.’

The new building brings together the functionality contained within a number of obsolete older buildings, consolidating the airbase’s needs in a single structure and follows a new Halle 3 for aircraft maintenance.

In addition to garaging and maintenance bays in the central hall, complete with high ceilings for emergency service vehicles, Halle 2 provides accommodation for the base’s Rescue Standby Unit, including command areas and living spaces. Access to the vehicles is prioritised for emergency situations, a consideration that also resulted in wide corridors and the all-important inclusion of pole access to the garage area.

The large spans are made possible by glue-laminated timber beams and steel trusses, along with concrete cores for the accommodation blocks. Internal walls are formed from rammed earth to give the structure greater environmental performance, while the whole building is swathed in a ventilated perforated aluminium envelope, with individual windows rather than expansive glazing.

This nod to the aeronautical environment also cuts down on glare for approaching aircraft. On the roof, around 1,600m² of photovoltaic panels supplement the energy requirements of the building.

‘Halle 2 constitutes a high-performance working tool designed to meet both current and future security needs of the Payerne Air Base, as well as the evolving military infrastructure and the introduction of new combat equipment,’ RDR say. The building continues the long tradition of austere but finely resolved and beautifully built Swiss infrastructure.

RDRarchitectes.com, @RDR.lausanne

So here I am in Sri Lanka, at the end of almost 20 days spent exploring the work of Austrian architect Carl Pruscha. I arrived on a red-eye flight out of New Delhi, stepping onto the island as the damp weight of tropical humidity settled over the coastline. My mind is still tethered to where this journey began: the high, crisp altitudes of the Kathmandu Valley. I have spent this time moving between the bookends of a single architect's life, from rounded brick monuments in the Himalayas to the floating minimalism of the tropics.

Who is Carl Pruscha?

Born in Innsbruck in 1936, Pruscha studied in Vienna and at Harvard. While working in New York in 1964, the UN appointed him as a planning expert adviser to the Nepalese government, which brought him to the region, and he set up a small architecture studio in Kathmandu. My own introduction to Pruscha’s work was accidental. I stumbled upon a striking brick complex in Kathmandu while working on post-earthquake reconstruction in 2018. The project, Taragaon Next – currently a private gallery and cultural hub – features brick floors that stretch into walls that curve into barrel-vaulted roofs. It felt ancient and hyper-modern all at once. I remember touching those walls and realising that to occupy an architect's pure vision is to step inside their mind.

Before my trip, I called Pruscha at his home in Vienna (he returned to Austria in 1974) to ask which buildings to prioritise seeing when in Nepal. ‘Just see Taragaon, don't go anywhere else,' he said. The problem with that is that the buildings pull you in – one leads to another, and another – until you find yourself piecing together a life spent building across three countries and 60 years from the fragments that remain. And I wanted to see it all.

Walking through Taragaon Next with its curator, Roshan Mishra, the subtlety of Pruscha's work becomes apparent. Built in 1972, the complex sits near the landmark Boudhanath temple, like a modern intervention next to the ancient titan. Doorways are intentionally low, a gesture borrowed from Newari tradition (the Newar are the indigenous people of the Kathmandu Valley). Lotus motifs etched in stone mark every threshold, while courtyards echo the sunken steps of temples in the nearby city of Bhaktapur. The building, originally commissioned by the Nepal Women's Association as a hostel, had an afterlife as a hotel, then a casino, then a project office for the Hyatt Regency next door, then a dead space until it was revived in its current form in 2010.

For the Centre for Economic Development and Administration campus at the nearby Tribhuvan University, Pruscha's exploration took a different form. Walking through the now-abandoned student hostels, I stepped onto the balconies and saw it: the building's terraces cascade down the hillside in a geometry that overflows directly into the adjacent agricultural terrace farms. No boundary between the two. The built environment and the ancient land art of Nepali farmers become a single, continuous landscape. ‘There is an effort to restore them,' local architect and academic Biresh Shah told me, but the decay is palpable.

When I asked Pruscha about the dramatic shift between his Nepali brick and his Sri Lankan steel structures on stilts, his response was almost impatient: ‘There is no ideological change. I am always the same person. If I design something in the US, in Nepal, in Sri Lanka, or even in Austria, it's always of the same spirit. The only thing is that the people are different.'

However, in Nepal, that spirit was under siege. His master plan for the Kathmandu Valley – protecting the agricultural heartland and temple towns – was not accepted by local elites protecting their real estate. His private homes are vanishing: the House at Bansbari is now a restaurant; the Rana Residence, as Shah confirmed with visible sadness, was demolished to make way for a hotel. ‘People didn't like brick buildings, they wanted everything in concrete,' another local architect, Saurav Shrestha, told me, echoing Pruscha's own frustration. Pruscha refuses to return. ‘I don't want to go back…' he told me. ‘I want to keep it in my memory as it used to be – a paradise in the 1960s.'

Sri Lanka, where he started working in 2005, demanded an entirely different architecture. ‘In Nepal, people still built using bricks because they weren't colonised,' Pruscha explained. ‘Sri Lanka was just the opposite.' Beneath centuries of colonial imposition, he saw a far older vernacular – buildings on stilts, lifted above the wet earth. His anchor here was Kathrin Messner, a Viennese intellectual who, with her late husband Josef Ortner, established the One World Foundation (OWF), a ‘social sculpture' inspired by Joseph Beuys. The income generated from the guesthouse that Pruscha built for them – the House Above Trees – funds a free school for more than 1,000 students. Pruscha didn't win this commission through a bidding process. ‘He came to visit because we were friends,' Messner told me. ‘He took out some paper and made a design.' The result was a school in the OWF and three bungalows. I got a chance to stay in all three, each one very different from the others, yet similar in principle.

The Lagoon Bungalow is made from steel pillars that lift the living space 2m into the air. Between the wooden ceiling and the corrugated roof, a 1m void acts as a passive thermal engine, the ocean breeze flushing the sun-heated air out before it reaches the rooms below. No air conditioning is needed. Materials dismissed across South Asia as the vocabulary of poverty, such as visible I-sections, steel pipes and corrugated iron, are elevated here into breathable elegance.

In December 2004, a devastating tsunami tore through its lightweight walls, but the structure held. ‘The building wasn't destroyed,' Pruscha told me. ‘We could repair it again.' The school was not so fortunate and was obliterated. Eva Schlegel, Pruscha's wife, organised an art auction, raising more than €250,000 in one evening. Pruscha then designed the replacement building on a 6m x 6m grid: cross-shaped columns, waffle-slab ceilings, walls stopping 1m short of the roof for cross-ventilation. The Sri Lankan minister of construction declared that every tsunami-destroyed school should follow this design, and the Austrian ambassador pledged to donate money. None were built.

On one of my final days in Sri Lanka, I walked around the House Above Trees as the team working on its yearly maintenance finished sealing the floorboards. The coat hadn't fully cured, and with every step the timber gripped at my shoes – the house, freshly maintained, asserting itself against my departure. Through the open lattices, the Indian Ocean stretched to the horizon. I could imagine the school's principal resuming the term and training the 1,000-odd students each year in those halls – in English, photography, tailoring – building lives their parents could not have imagined. The architecture is doing exactly what it was designed to do: disappearing so that life could happen inside it. ‘For the people who come after me,' Pruscha had said. They were already here.

cpruscha.com

This article appears in Wallpaper’s July 2026 Design Directory, available from 4 June, in print on newsstands, on the Wallpaper* app on Apple iOS, and to subscribers of Apple News +. Subscribe to Wallpaper* today

Cirk is a new book charting the little-known but widespread existence of the ‘permanent circus’, an architectural typology unique to the former Eastern Bloc. Cirk is not just a monograph and history of these austere, brutalist yet ultimately playful structures, but also a chance to do it yourself and explore the architecture via five press-out paper models.

Explore the typology of the 'modernist circus'

These permanent circus buildings typically took the form of a concrete interpretation of the classic Big Top, often with abstract decoration in the form of panels or elaborate roof structure. Capable of seating several thousand people, they served as permanent homes for the numerous state circuses that provided officially sanctioned mass entertainment.

As the book notes, ‘the circus occupied a prominent place in the performing arts throughout the former USSR and other socialist countries. Combining elements of both art and sport, it was an egalitarian form of entertainment: simple and direct, easy to understand yet complex to perform and equally attractive to children, students, workers and intellectuals.’

Russia has a long history of purpose-built circus buildings – the Saint Petersburg Ciniselli Circus dates back to 1877. Following the revolution, circuses, like ballets and orchestras, were nationalised, overseen by Gos-Tsirk and later the Soyuzgostsirk (the Union of State Circuses). There was even a state-administered system of professional circus training and the Moscow State Circus in particular toured the West.

Written by Zupagrafika’s David Navarro and Martyna Sobecka with a foreword by architect and researcher Jelena Prokopljević, the book contains seventeen such structures, each surviving as a remnant of past political priorities and the importance of a strong architectural presence. As well as classic circus iconography, there’s a science fiction element to many of these buildings, resembling giant UFOs set down in the cityscape.

Designed explicitly for a singular purpose, interiors often included elaborate mechanisms for trapeze and high-wire acts, as well as spaces for animals in addition to the performers. Some have survived into the post-Soviet era as performance spaces, while others have been more neglected. Taken together, the structures in Cirk showcase an important but often overlooked aspect of socialist architecture, the provision of communal entertainment spaces.

The five models that can be made include the Kyrgyz State Circus in Bishkek, the Chișinău State Circus, Dnipro State Circus, Tashkent State Circus and the Great Moscow State Circus.

Cirk: Build Your Own Socialist Modernist Circus, €32, Zupagrafika.com

The Museum of Decorative Arts in Prague is currently home to a special exhibition shining a light on an overlooked but brilliantly quirky corner of the architecture world: the modernist cottage. ‘The Modern Cottage: An Architectural Phenomenon’ documents a little-known yet radical chapter in the history of modern design.

Curated by architectural historian and Wallpaper* writer Adam Štěch, alongside co-curator and architect Jan Bureš, the exhibition turns its attention to cottages and weekend houses as overlooked bastions of modernism – a category of building long neglected in serious architectural discourse, yet one that tells us as much about the 20th century as any grand civic monument.

As European cities recovered during the interwar years and workers gained more leisure time, a new relationship with the countryside emerged. The concept of the seasonal retreat gained momentum, with city dwellers beginning to build holiday homes on the edges of towns, gathering in loosely formed colonies of like-minded nature lovers. This exhibition honours that specific moment in place and time.

Yet ‘The Modern Cottage’ does not succumb to overblown nostalgia. The modernist cottage is not framed as a peculiarly Czech sociological phenomenon, as it so often is in national sentiment – loaded with romantic association. Štěch and Bureš sidestep that framing, choosing instead to examine wide-ranging designs, typologies and architectural ideas by both celebrated and lesser-known architects.

The result connects Czechoslovak examples to wider European design: Alpine cottages reinterpreted through a modernist lens, Scandinavian dwellings, beach houses in the south of France. Across these contexts, the exhibition traces how avant-garde thinking and shifting social structures shaped even the smallest and most informal of buildings.

The material on display is varied. Štěch's own photographs – taken during visits to cottages across the Czech Republic and abroad – form the visual backbone of the show, supplemented by archival publications, period images and architectural plans and sketches. Original furniture from several cottages is also on display, alongside remains of a cottage designed by the artist Zdeněk Pešánek. The exhibition design, created by Matěj Činčera and Jan Kloss, is inspired by a rural landscape.

‘The Modern Cottage’ makes a compelling case that the weekend house was never a footnote to modern architecture – it was where the blueprints of modern life were being drawn.

The Museum of Decorative Arts in Prague is currently home to a special exhibition shining a light on an overlooked but brilliantly quirky corner of the architecture world: the modernist cottage. ‘The Modern Cottage: An Architectural Phenomenon’ documents a little-known yet radical chapter in the history of modern design.

Curated by architectural historian and Wallpaper* writer Adam Štěch, alongside co-curator and architect Jan Bureš, the exhibition turns its attention to cottages and weekend houses as overlooked bastions of modernism – a category of building long neglected in serious architectural discourse, yet one that tells us as much about the 20th century as any grand civic monument.

As European cities recovered during the interwar years and workers gained more leisure time, a new relationship with the countryside emerged. The concept of the seasonal retreat gained momentum, with city dwellers beginning to build holiday homes on the edges of towns, gathering in loosely formed colonies of like-minded nature lovers. This exhibition honours that specific moment in place and time.

Yet ‘The Modern Cottage’ does not succumb to overblown nostalgia. The modernist cottage is not framed as a peculiarly Czech sociological phenomenon, as it so often is in national sentiment – loaded with romantic association. Štěch and Bureš sidestep that framing, choosing instead to examine wide-ranging designs, typologies and architectural ideas by both celebrated and lesser-known architects.

The result connects Czechoslovak examples to wider European design: Alpine cottages reinterpreted through a modernist lens, Scandinavian dwellings, beach houses in the south of France. Across these contexts, the exhibition traces how avant-garde thinking and shifting social structures shaped even the smallest and most informal of buildings.

The material on display is varied. Štěch's own photographs – taken during visits to cottages across the Czech Republic and abroad – form the visual backbone of the show, supplemented by archival publications, period images and architectural plans and sketches. Original furniture from several cottages is also on display, alongside remains of a cottage designed by the artist Zdeněk Pešánek. The exhibition design, created by Matěj Činčera and Jan Kloss, is inspired by a rural landscape.

‘The Modern Cottage’ makes a compelling case that the weekend house was never a footnote to modern architecture – it was where the blueprints of modern life were being drawn.

At Wallpaper*, we love spotlighting incredible homes from every corner of the globe that span the spectrum of modern design.

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

This month, we head to Mexico, North London and Norway, to name but a few, to visit several homes that are doing things differently.

Join us on our world tour as we highlight the best houses of May 2026.

An urban retreat in Mexico

Architect Taller Segovia Molina designed this family home in Santiago de Querétaro, Mexico, as a pocket of calm in an urban environment. Its street-facing facade is almost hermetic, giving nothing away, while the interior opens onto a rear courtyard garden. Inside spaces flow across levels connected visually and acoustically, with a barrel-vaulted staircase leading to private upper floors. Natural light, seasonal change and views of greenery anchor residents to nature despite the dense surrounding neighbourhood.

A reimagined care home

Formwork Architects transformed a dilapidated Edwardian care home in north London back into a generous family residence. Substantial basement excavations created a new kitchen-diner opening onto a sunken courtyard, topped by a bespoke open-tread metal staircase leading to a sitting room above. Original features – namely the stained glass and impressive main staircase – were carefully restored, while a double-height rear extension and new rooflights flood the interior with light.

A Viking-inspired cabin

This coastal cabin in Norway draws on Viking boat-building traditions, using whole tree trunks and roots as structural columns that simultaneously serve as shelves, benches, stairs and room dividers. Helen & Hard designed the undulating roof to mirror the surrounding topography, while panoramic glazing frames the ocean and locally-sourced stone forms the base. The result is a sensory space where timber scent, sea sounds and shifting daylight become central to the experience.

Brutalism in Milan

This brutalist family home in Cusano Milanino, designed in the 1970s by Francesco Castiglioni, stands apart from its Art Nouveau suburban neighbours through its raw concrete construction and sculptural massing. A monumental double-height living room dominates, with a sloping ceiling, dramatic internal ramp and double-sided fireplace. Glazed walls connect to expansive gardens, covered loggias wrap the exterior, and a 20-metre basement pool sits below. Owned by the original family, it is now listed for sale.

An Albuquerque desert home

Antoine Predock's final residential project – nicknamed the ‘dinodactyl’ – is a low-slung concrete home perched on a New Mexico desert ridge with extraordinary eastward views across the badlands. Five bedroom suites radiate from a central ‘amphitheatre’ living space, each functioning as a self-contained casita with its own terrace and fire pit. The building's orientation and form were carefully calibrated against extreme temperature swings, high winds and intense sunlight, while steel roof shingles will patinate naturally into the landscape over time.

A renovated painter’s house

Atelier Vens Vanbelle renovated this former home and studio of Belgian painter Antoon De Clerck, situated between Bruges and Ghent, into a vibrant residence befitting its artistic provenance. Drawing on De Clerck's De Stijl-rooted palette of primary colours and clean geometry, the architects layered Bauhaus and midcentury aesthetics with contemporary touches, including metallic roof detailing and a white brick fireplace. Each room carries its own distinct character within a cohesive whole.

Tetris-like Oaxaca apartments

S-AR's three-storey apartment building in Puerto Escondido treats its concrete, wood and steel grid structure as an inhabitable spatial system. Each of the three 180-square-metre apartments occupies one floor, with translucent wooden boxes providing bedroom privacy within an otherwise open framework. Each unit includes two bedrooms, social areas and a private plunge pool, with geometric detailing punctuating stairs, kitchens and storage, and few external walls interrupting the connection to the surrounding jungle canopy.

An off-grid, on-the-market home 

This off-grid prefab home in California's Eastern Sierra, designed by Linda Taalman and built over eight years by its owners, embodies the architect's desert modernism ethos, comprising open glass-and-steel forms, modular construction and minimal site disturbance. Set between Death Valley and the Sierra Nevada, the house frames sweeping vistas of surrounding peaks, including Lone Pine Peak and the Alabama Hills. Its sustainable design, wildfire preparedness and connection to the landscape reflect both the Taalman's principles and the clients' family ties to the region.

A forgotten Portuguese ruin

Pablo Pita Arquitectos rebuilt a derelict olive press in the Douro wine region into a pared-back country retreat, preserving the original footprint while dividing the plan into four quadrants – living, terrace, pool and courtyard. The house steps down the hillside, with raw concrete interiors paired with stone schist walls and timber cladding – it is deliberately minimal, material-led and rooted in the ruin's memory. Four bedrooms occupy the lowest level, while the uppermost floor offers views across the Douro River.

A robust coastal home

Hollaway Studio reimagined an existing cottage on Kent's otherworldly shingle headland, retaining its original silhouette while completely rethinking its interior orientation. Charred timber with white coating echoes the previous building, complemented by corrugated metal and Corten steel, while a salt-and-pepper concrete floor extends the shingle landscape indoors. The robust facade is built to withstand the coastal exposure of one of England's most distinctive – and challenging – landscapes.

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

On Montréal's South Shore, a 1929 residence has had its modernist roots refreshed. A recent renovation by local studio Vives St-Laurent set out to be wholly faithful to the home's early-20th-century provenance, introducing contemporary interventions with a light, considered hand.

Tucked to the rear of its plot and wrapped in greenery – as was the modernist way – the three-storey house found just the right owners: a family who had previously restored a Victorian property in Toronto. This project offered them a different historic context to engage with.

Vives St-Laurent's design process was shaped by a number of inherited conditions: modest ceiling heights, pronounced roof slopes and a building modified repeatedly over the decades. The accumulated changes made it necessary to distinguish original features from later additions, and the designers chose to draw out qualities that had been buried rather than impose a new vision.

Recreate the mood

That restraint is felt in the material palette. White oak flooring and stained millwork form the foundation, supplemented by soft lacquered surfaces and painted moldings. Threads of continuity run throughout: an oak island in the kitchen is echoed in the bathroom vanities; cabinetry in a beige lacquer offers gentle contrast against the walls; and honed Calacatta marble spans both kitchen and bathroom surfaces, while ceramic tile adds texture and tonal variation in the wet rooms. A terracotta-toned floor brings warmth to the ground level, and pale wall tiles work to reflect and distribute the home's natural light.

The most substantial changes were concentrated on the ground floor, which now accommodates an entrance, shared bathroom, two offices, kitchen, dining area and living room. A glass partition carves out a semi-enclosed workspace while preserving the flow of daylight, and openings were reworked to frame views to the garden. Existing elements – the fireplace, exposed beams, chimney and original layout – were restored.

The furniture remains impeccably true to character throughout: from the Swedish midcentury armchair and Danish teak wall unit in the living space to the scattering of Artek 60 stools. In the dining room, a striking geometric rug anchors a set of vintage Cesca chairs by Knoll (and a bright red Stokke children's chair), while overhead, Herman Miller's Nelson Saucer suspension lamp provides the perfect midcentury finishing touch.

The resulting home wears its history lightly but unmistakably. This is how you honour a property's origins without announcing them too loudly.

It’s tempting to see spomeniks as just another example of Soviet brutalism; concrete, modernist, midcentury, perfect for heavy coffee table books and ‘concrete clickbait.’ Describing these peculiar war memorials of former Yugoslavia in 2013, The Guardian newspaper likened them to 'alien landings, crop circles or Pink Floyd album covers'.

A guide to spomenik design

Yet, beyond their staggering size and otherworldly beauty, spomeniks tell a complex story about trauma, memory, and collective identity in a newly formed nation reckoning with the effects of war. Here is our guide to what these amazing structures are, what they mean, the key proponents, and some representative examples.

What are spomeniks?

When the Axis forces invaded Yugoslavia in 1941, a multi-ethnic antifascist partisan movement emerged to successfully fight back against the occupation. After the Second World War, Josip Tito’s new Socialist Federal Republic wanted to commemorate these fighters, along with the million civilian casualties of the war. A monument series – the spomeniks (a word derived from the Serb-Croat word for ‘memory’) – was chosen as the way forward. Planned to be dotted around Yugoslavia’s six states, their presence was intended to build a shared, universal language of ‘unity and brotherhood’ (bratstvo i jedinstvo) across the country's religious and ethnic differences.

Unlike socialist-realist sculptures of generals and fighters, spomeniks drew on the orientation towards Western modernism following Tito’s split from the USSR in 1948. Spomeniks were to be highly symbolic and abstract, doubling up as outdoor classrooms where schoolchildren could be inoculated with the current government's single national liberation narrative. They were intended to invoke feelings of national and cultural togetherness, capable of endless reinterpretation in a permanent revolution toward progressive socialism.

By 1961, there were over 14,000 such monuments in Yugoslavia. By 1990, some estimate there were almost 40,000. Today, most spomeniks have been destroyed, abandoned, or forgotten – victims of the sectarian divisions that have re-emerged in the region since the 1990s. Unlike Stalin’s Treptower Park and its top-down grandeur, these abstract concrete blocks are particularly interesting because they were largely commissioned, funded and built by local communities. In the end, Tito barely visited them at all.

A key representative: Bogdan Bogdanović

Serbian architect and intellectual Bogdan Bogdanović (1922-2010) designed many spomeniks. His first project, The Stone Flower (1960-66), was a 24m ‘melancholy lotus’ on the banks of the Sava River in Jasenovac, Croatia. Built on the site of the Jasenovac concentration camp, the flower is a memorial to the 100,000 people who died at the hands of fascist Croatian Ustaše forces. Rather than dwell on inter-ethnic conflict and bring 'evil back to life', however, Bogdanović’s lotus symbolises rebirth and renewal. Reflecting on building the monument in an interview in 2008, Bogdanović said that he won the commission because, quite simply, his 'surrealist biography' was not 'Russian'.

Another example is Bogdanović’s 19m Monument to the Partisans and Miners (1959-73) on Partisan Hill in Kosovo, built to commemorate local Serbian and Albanian partisan fighters. Bogdanović was selected by the regional government and veteran group to build this ‘shrine to the revolution’, a trilithon topped with an ore-shaped block, a reference to the site’s mining history.

The two fluted Doric columns represented the once-unified Serbs and Albanians, with the gap between them symbolising a ‘gateway’ to a peaceful future. Tito’s Young Pioneers regularly visited the site in a kind of secular pilgrimage. Vandalised and disused, today the spomenik, better known locally as ‘the barbecue’, overlooks this segregated city, although, according to Kosovo's tourism website, it has ‘lost its symbolic meaning’.

The case of the Partisan Memorial Cemetery

Perhaps most significant of all of his projects is Bogdanović’s Partisan Memorial Cemetery in Mostar, Bosnia (1960-65). Built to commemorate local antifascist Partisan fighters, the necropolis was the architect's most complex project. The staggering tiered spomenik sits in the hills above Mostar and originally featured 87,000 pebbles and 700 flower-stone plaques, engraved with the names of Serb, Jewish, Croat, Bosniak, and Roma fighters.

Void of religious, nationalist, socialist or military symbolism, and resembling a 'cosmological sundial', Bogdanović’s secular memorial was intended to be close to everyone. A fountain, mimicking Mostar’s Neretva River, originally descended into a large pool at the hill’s base, where children used to learn to swim. Carvings were done by Croatian masons while civic volunteer groups were responsible for its construction. Mostar’s citizens referred to the site as a ‘park’, ‘playground’, and ‘place for a picnic’, embedded in everyday life. Like other spomeniks, funding came from local government, trade groups and families.

Bogdanović became an honorary citizen of the town upon completing the project. Yet, when he returned to the site in 1997, he noted in a piece he wrote in the local Mostar news magazine, MM, that the 'former city of the dead and the former city of the living' now looked at each other with 'empty, black and burned eyes'. An iconic symbol of brotherhood and unity, the site was the first to be targeted, set alight and graffitied when war broke out in 1992. The site was recently seen deserted, save for empty beer bottles and smashed fragments of the 700 memorial stones.

New imaginings – spomeniks now

Concrete is often considered the bane of midcentury modernist architecture, but here its indestructible nature is a saving grace. Despite decades of sustained neglect and vandalism, many spomeniks still stand. Recently, a new generation of residents, architects and activists campaigned for their reconstruction. In 2023, Mostar’s memorial cemetery was added to the EU-funded Europa Nostra’s endangered monuments list. On its 60th anniversary in September 2025, the spomenik was brought to life for a night of theatre and performance, organised by a collective of young Mostar artists as part of the city's Street Art Festival.

Over the past decade, more spomeniks across former Yugoslavia have been carefully restored, reclaimed or repurposed (at least one has been turned into a radio tower, while in others the names of Second World War veterans were replaced by those of the victims of the Yugoslav wars). Renewed interest in the sites has been prompted by savvy internet sleuths, ‘Yugonostalgia’, international attention (spomeniks featured in a 2018 MoMA exhibition), and a healthy dose of concrete clickbait.

While a return to the spirit of brotherhood and unity that the spomeniks represented might not have a direct interpretation today, these enduring structures have the potential to take on new meanings in new contexts. Rather than represent ideological abandonment, spomeniks' abstraction is their greatest legacy. Writing about the Mostar cemetery, Bogdanović was asked: 'How will generations after us interpret this building?' His response was clear: 'Many associations are possible [and] various imaginings.'

Rudolph Schindler designed houses 'as if there had never been houses before,' famed architecture critic and writer Reyner Banham once said. Bold and exciting, it's a statement that captures the Austrian-born, California architect's oeuvre and attitude. Schindler's modernist architecture is found in great numbers in the City of Angels, a known treasure trove of modernist houses. He crafted homes big and small, designing some 100 residential projects, many radical and thought-provoking, as he sought to challenge the era's norms through his Los Angeles houses.

Who was Rudolph Schindler?

Rudolph Michael Schindler (1887-1953) was born in Vienna into an artistic family with a deep appreciation for craft. He studied at TU Wien (the city's well-regarded University of Technology) before attending the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts, graduating in 1911. In 1914, he moved to the USA, where he started working for Frank Lloyd Wright, whose work he discovered while still in Austria via the Wasmuth Portfolio, a folio containing 100 of Wright's lithographs, published in 1910.

Schindler worked on the Hollyhock House project in Los Angeles, among others, during his time at Wright‘s studio. Soon after, he left and completed his personal home on Kings Road in Hollywood. It marked the beginning of Schindler's mission to develop his own, distinctive iteration of modernist residential architecture.

Rudolph Schindler's architecture style

Known for his characterful residential projects, organic spaces and built-in living scenarios, Schindler stood outside the modernist mainstream of the time, which was largely represented by his fellow architect and friend from Vienna, Richard Neutra.

Schindler‘s projects broke away from the austerity of functionalism and focused primarily on the emotional aspect of architecture and the spatial character of a living environment. Influenced by Wright, his mentor, Schindler created homes that draw on the principles of organic architecture, and the influences of 20th-century Austrian architect Adolf Loos; in particular, his idea of a more vertical hierarchy of spaces, known as 'Raumplan'.

Schindler's career and portfolio

The lack of standardisation in Schindler's work and his moves away from modernism's functionalist roots led to his work not being included in the seminal exhibition International Style at MoMA in 1932. Still, until his death, Schindler built around 100 residential projects.

Schindler homes vary in style and materials, representing the architect's explorations and his architectural evolution over time. His work went through different stages, mostly defined by the materials he used – from his early 1920s concrete houses, he progressed to plaster-covered designs in the 1930s, and through to wood and stone organic creations towards the end of his career, in the 1940s and 1950s.

16 Rudolph Schindler homes in Los Angeles

Curator, architecture historian and writer Adam Štěch toured Los Angeles in search of Rudolph Schindler homes. Here, he captures for us 16 of his most exciting creations.

Kings Road House (Schindler House)

When? 1922

Kings Road House was one of Schindler‘s first independent projects. It reveals the influence of Frank Lloyd Wright, but Schindler transforms that into a distinctive style of his own. Initially, the building functioned as a home and studio for the architect, his wife, Pauline, and another couple, Clyde and Marian Chace. The living space is arranged as two L-shaped pavilions around a large garden, with floor-to-ceiling windows and exposed wood structural details. With its openness and Japanese sensibility, the house is a remarkable emblem of the modernist movement. It was restored in 2003 by architecture studio Marmol Radziner. Today, it is owned by Friends of the Schindler House, with support from the Austrian Museum of Applied Arts (MAK).

How House

When? 1925

Located in the Silver Lake area of Los Angeles, where Schindler built many of his projects, the How House was completed in 1925 for railroad heir James Eads. It is made of redwood beams, poured concrete and stucco. Interconnected cubes contain variable spaces differing in height and atmosphere. The spaces feature overlaying forms and lines, seen more clearly in the geometric beam work of the large living room, with its iconic corner window in a subtle wood frame. Designer Taska Cleveland recently restored the house for a new owner, respecting its original soul.

Herman Sachs Apartments (Manola Court)

When? 1926

Commissioned in 1926, The Herman Sachs Apartments were built for German painter Herman Sachs. Composed of rectangles on the steep site, the complex was expanded between 1934 and 1940 to a total of sixteen cityview residences.

William E. and Stephanie Oliver House

When? 1934

Oliver House represents one of Schindler‘s career highlights. The house, built on a steep plot in the Silver Lake area, is set back on the plot and is reached by a set of steps lined by elegant tubular metal handrails. Inside, the architect created an open, flexible space with multifunctional furniture units, such as the living room seating corner with built-in tables and shelves.

Walker House

When? 1936

Walker House shows Schindler’s ability to build on awkward, even downright tricky, sites. The residence faces the Silver Lake reservoir and is elevated over the steep hill on pillars. Its geometric facade, with a variety of offset rectangular windows, faces the water, while the entrance is located on the top floor on the other side. The lower level contains bedrooms furnished with Schindler’s signature built-in furniture. Walker House was bought by journalist and modernist design aficionado Andrew Romano a decade ago, who has been working on its restoration since.

McAlmon Duplex

When? 1936

The McAlmon Duplex includes two private homes on one lot. Originally built in 1923, the structures were remodelled by Schindler in 1936. Large overhangs and a powerful use of geometry place this house as one of Schindler‘s best interpretations of International Style. It was also influenced by the Dutch movement De Stijl.

Bubeshko Apartments

When? 1938–1941

With its decorative concrete caps on the garage walls, crafted by sculptor Gordon Newell, this project evokes the precast concrete blocks of Frank Lloyd Wright's Mayan Revival architecture. The Bubeshko Apartments were commissioned by Anastasia Bubeshko and her daughter Luby.

The Samuel T. and Pauline Falk Apartments

When? 1938

Commissioned in 1938 by Samuel T. and Pauline Falk, the Falk Apartments are composed of rectangular volumes that perfectly fit into the steep hill of their Silver Lake area plot. Inside, four different living units unfold.

Guy C. Wilson House

When? 1939

Another Schindler‘s residential gem in Silver Lake, Guy C. Wilson House is a definitive example of modernist composition, with its recessed and stepped facade composed of rectangular volumes, large window openings and an unusual, overhanging roof. Inside, one can find a multi-level white space with built-in wooden furniture.

Pearl Mackey Apartments

When? 1939

Owned by the Austrian Museum für angewandte Kunst (MAK), the Pearl Mackey Apartments are currently used to host artists' residencies. A crisp, white, International Style facade with large windows conceals duplex apartments behind it, featuring ingenious built-in furniture elements.

Droste House

When? 1940

Built for the Droste family in Silver Lake, this house contains one of the most authentically preserved interiors by Schindler. The green composition of overlaid and protruding rectangular volumes, typical of Schindler’s late 1930s style, stands out for its large window in the middle of the street-facing facade, which gives the house a panoramic view over the Silver Lake reservoir.

Kallis House

When? 1946

Located in Studio City, Kallis House and its art studio were commissioned by production artist Maurice 'Mischa' Kallis. One of the most organic and playful Schindler houses, it features angled walls and fittingly bespoke-designed interior furnishings. In 1993, Schindler's associate Josef Van der Kar cleverly converted the house's open patio between the living quarters and the art studio into an entertainment and family room.

Roxy Roth House

When? 1946

Commissioned in 1945 by screenwriter and actor Roxy Roth House and located in Studio City, this is another feast of late-career Schindler work, full of surprising forms and organic-inspired spaces. The composition includes a curved car shed converted into a studio. It has recently been restored by architect Barbara Bestor, following a past restoration, in 1998-1999, by architect and contractor Jeff Fink. The house is currently for sale, listed by Crosby Doe.

The Laurelwood Apartments

When? 1948

Located in Studio City, The Laurelwood Apartments comprise two terraced blocks containing two-bedroom flats divided by a central patio. The project's total of twenty units was constructed using modular techniques to address post-war material shortages.

Adolph Tischler House

When? 1950

Designed for craftsman, designer and inventor Adolph Tischler, this house is one of Schindler’s last projects in which he experimented not only with space and construction but also with colour and light. Schindler covered the main living room at the top of the structure with blue translucent corrugated fibreglass panels - this caused the light to take on a deep blue hue inside. Tischler also designed some elements for the house, including a metal fireplace.

Phillip and Phyllis Schlessinger House

When? 1954

The very last project of Rudolph Schindler can be found in Los Feliz and was completed one year after his death. The house is defined by a cascading facade, which internally helps create a cosy, organic living room area.

In a small Milanese suburb, lies a quiet masterpiece of Italian brutalism - the work of architect Francesco Castiglioni. Built as a substantial family home in the 1970s in the Cusano Milanino area, the 650 square metre residence is a generous, sculptural house that wears its concrete structure on its sleeve.

Tour this example of Italian brutalism

The surrounding residential area is given over to large villas around a public park, with Art Nouveau being the favoured architectural style. Castiglioni’s brutalist architecture stood out, then as now, not just for the raw concrete but for the way the four-bedroom house devotes the majority of its floor area to the living areas, including a monumental double-height sitting room.

The exterior follows the more castellated, romantic vision of brutalism, with chimneys and cantilevers replacing ramparts and towers. The integral garage is reached via a driveway that goes through the house, terminating at a curved parking area away from the street.

The living area is the focal point, with a sloping ceiling and dramatic ramp that leads to the upper floors with a galleried landing overlooking the space. A double-sided fireplace divides the space in two, while shifts in level to accommodate the topography of the site creates dynamics views across the living room.

Glazed walls bring the verdant gardens into the living area, while the roof oversails the edges of the house to create a covered walkway and terraces leading down into the 3,800 square metre garden. In the basement, there’s a substantial 20m heated swimming pool as well as utility spaces and storage. In addition to the four modest bedrooms, the villa comes with its own 70 square metre caretaker’s cottage.

Castiglioni was based in Como. His work on the house also extended to some of the furniture and fittings, as well as landscaping the garden. Owned by the same family that commissioned it, the house has recently been refurbished and updated ready for a new generation of architecture-loving ownership.

Villa by Francesco Castiglioni, Cusano Milanino, €3,000,000, Italy-SothebysRealty.com

Faro modernism may not be the obvious first pick when thinking of global cities rich in midcentury architecture history. Dessau and its Bauhaus offerings may come to mind; perhaps New York with its Frank Lloyd Wright Guggenheim Museum and the recently reborn Breuer Building; or even Marseille and the Wallpaper* favourite, the Unité d’Habitation by Le Corbusier. However, a new book by Batsford has now come to challenge these perceptions, putting forward Faro in southern Portugal as an important, if not unlikely, contender for such a list.

'Faro Modernism' by Richard Walker

Faro Modernism by photographer Richard Walker charts the city's heritage and culture through the author's particular artistic lens. Surprisingly, perhaps, to those who haven't visited, there are more than 500 modernist buildings in Faro – the highest concentration of this type of architecture in southern Europe.

Modernist architecture is often characterised by geometric forms and flat roofs, and built around functionality. Le Corbusier’s famous five principles of architecture, which note the use of pilotis, a flat roof, strip windows, free-form façades and an open-plan interior, acted as a foundation for the movement worldwide in the 20th century. The genre grew, resulting in a wealth of crisp compositions across the globe, adapting and responding to regional styles and climates.

In Faro, architect Manuel Gomes da Costa helped spearhead modernism locally. Having moved from Portugal to South America, he returned in the 1950s, inspired by the architecture of Oscar Niemeyer, and his work would go on to help transform the city.

Faro is now referred to as southern Europe’s ‘Palm Springs’, and the city has a specific area full of modernist buildings, from detached and semi-detached grand houses to large-scale apartment blocks and streets of terraced houses and maisonettes.

The new book offers a chance to explore Faro's rich midcentury architectural heritage in beautifully photographed detail. With his visual portfolio, Walker captures the essence of a modernist paradise under the southern European sun, shaped by Costa and ready to explore.

batsfordbooks.com

TEFAF New York opens this week, and Galerie Patrick Seguin returns to the fair for the fifth time, bringing more unseen work by French modernist architecture master Jean Prouvé. This year, French gallerist and collector Seguin will bring 12 projects to his stand – two of which have never been on display for the public before.

Explore TEFAF New York’s Galerie Patrick Seguin display on Jean Prouvé

Indeed, Villa Lopez (1953) and the Valençaude school (1954) are two of Prouvé's lesser-known works, which have not been shared widely or seen much since their initial conception in the 20th century. They join ten more works at the stand: the SCAL pavilion (1940), the BCC house (1941), the 6x6, 6x9 emergency housing units (1944) and 8x8 reconstruction unit (1945), the Carnac vacation house (1946), the Better Days house (1956), and school and office buildings such as the Croismare glassmaking school (1948) and the Maxéville design office (1948).

The projects are showcased in a way that highlights 'the consistency of the constructive system developed by Jean Prouvé', the gallery explains in its statement. The architecture's capacity to adapt, both in terms of scale and function, was key in the French modernist's thinking.

Prouvé believed that 'there is no difference between the construction of a piece of furniture and a house', states the gallery. At the heart of the stand, among the amazing structures designed by the architect, is a rarely seen table. The piece, a 3.3m-long element, was originally designed in 1952 for the Antony Cité Universitaire student residences on the outskirts of Paris.

The table's large scale is a key focal point for the stand. Titled ‘Centrale’ table, it is made out of folded steel and was designed in the 1950s – a representation of Prouvé's material explorations and a true collector's item.

TEFAF New York runs 14-19 May 2026 at the Park Avenue Armory, New York

tefaf.com

patrickseguin.com

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.

Christian Gimonet, who worked quietly in Bourges, a city in France's Loire Valley, for more than half a century, represents his own gentle expression of regional modernism. Throughout his long career, the architect seamlessly integrated his works into the centuries-old built environment of his hometown – his main, and almost only, creative playground.

Tour the work of French architect Christian Gimonet

Located 200km south of Paris, Bourges holds a special place in French history. Inhabited since the Gallic Wars between 58-50 BC, the city flourished during the Middle Ages. With its gothic masterpiece, the Cathédrale Saint-Étienne de Bourges, at its heart, and half-timbered houses lining its narrow streets, the city still retains much of its historic character, so modern architecture might not be what visitors expect to see in such a context. Nevertheless, a handful of modern and contemporary works can be found, albeit with forms designed to blend perfectly with their period environment.

It is exactly such buildings – ones that mark a departure while also carving a harmonious relationship with their site – that were Gimonet's speciality. Born in 1935, Gimonet developed an interest in architecture during his teenage years, drawn to the works of Frank Lloyd Wright, Alvar Aalto and Le Corbusier. He remembers meeting François Gauchery, then a heritage architect in Bourges, who granted him access to restricted areas of the cathedral. ‘I think I wandered everywhere, inside and out. I saw storms rising on the horizon, and I took refuge there,' Gimonet is quoted as saying by his artist friend Joëlle Chauvin in her memoirs in 2023.

In 1954, Gimonet enrolled at the École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts and joined the workshop of Louis Arretche, while following courses led by Jean Prouvé. ‘He developed a lasting passion for Japanese literature and architecture, studying the plans of the Katsura Imperial Villa in Kyoto,' adds Chauvin. Gimonet continued studying in Paris under Paul Bossard and later worked for Roland Simounet in Algeria, before eventually meeting US architect Paul Rudolph in New Haven as part of a university exchange. He then settled down in Bourges in 1966, establishing his own atelier three years later and practising architecture until the late 2010s.

During his career, Gimonet played an important role in changing perspectives on modernism and architecture in general, shining a spotlight on climatic, cultural, urbanistic and environmental debates through his work. ‘Gimonet was one of the first architects in France to focus on the rehabilitation of industrial wastelands and to take a broader interest in ideas of urban heritage,' writes Elke Mittmann, director of the Maison de l'Architecture Centre-Val de Loire in Orléans, in a text to accompany an exhibition on Gimonet she curated in 2023. ‘Taking into account the history of a place, its morphology, and its geology, he opens up an even broader field of work, which Gimonet, following several authors, calls the genius loci. This approach is guided by a growing awareness, over the years, of the issue of sustainable development.'

In 1968, he built Maison Bouriant, a multi-use building in Bourges' historic heart. Its slate-covered pitched roof echoes the vernacular and tops an ingenious plan of commercial and residential areas across seven levels. The main commercial space communicates with the square through large glazing and contains a dramatic three-level showroom, which nods to the spatial influences of Wright and Rudolph. Gimonet's own atelier was located one floor above, and the top three floors served as home for him and his wife Jacqueline. The couple were very interested in the work of the modernist ceramic craftspeople in the nearby village of La Borne. Among them, Jean Lerat was a frequent collaborator, with his ceramic works appearing in several of Gimonet's projects, including his own apartment, where the kitchen counter's richly hued ceramic tiles complement the austerity of the concrete fireplace.

Decorating the space with a giant Isamu Noguchi ‘Akari' lamp and Mies van der Rohe ‘Barcelona' chairs, Gimonet embraced an organic sensibility, remembering some of his favourite sources of inspiration, including Wright and Aalto. Following Gimonet's death in 2023, Jacqueline gifted the apartment and its contents to the city of Bourges with the intention it be restored and opened as a cultural centre. Gimonet's designs merge seamlessly with their setting, creating a bridge between old and new, natural and human-made, and this can be witnessed in many of his projects in Bourges. However, an apartment building that he designed on the corner of Rue Bourdaloue and Rue Mac Donald, built in 1967, shows his experimentation with more radical modernist forms, though it's still in discreet cohabitation with the surrounding modest urban scale. Inside, the entrance hall is adorned with a series of ceramic totems created by Lerat.

For Le Dunois, an apartment building completed in 1977, Gimonet used a more contextual approach. A pitched roof and slate coverings mimic nearby buildings, while the entrance is dominated by a typographic mosaic, created by Gimonet, and a sculpture by Bernard Delagrange. More sensitively designed works across town include apartment buildings on Rue Bourbonnoux (1979) and a house on Place Planchart (2011). Later in his career, Gimonet also took an interest in social housing and low-cost schemes, resulting in a design for 34 houses near a golf club (2001) and the conversion of a former alderman's house on Place

Saint-Bonnet (2002), as well as row houses on Rue Heurtault de Lamerville (2006). ‘Working with the city services, he campaigned against uncontrolled urban sprawl, the waste of resources, indifference to the visual environment, and the mediocrity of certain projects,' writes Chauvin in her book. ‘In the 1960s, Gimonet travelled to the USA. He was fascinated by the houses of Frank Lloyd Wright; he visited almost all of them. The Jacobs First House in Wisconsin was a precursor of his bioclimatic homes, combining wood, stone, glass and metal, solar heating, carefully considered orientations, intimate spaces, and privileged views. These thoughtfully designed living spaces reinforced Christian Gimonet's architectural vision.'

The architect also worked within natural settings around Bourges, where Wright's influence can be found in his designs for countryside and suburban family houses and villas. In 1981, Gimonet created a house for the Thyrion family in the village of Pigny. The single-level residence reflects the American master's organic principles and features a gently pitched roof with a pronounced overhang. The dwelling is one of several by Gimonet, addressing a need for environmentally conscious and landscape-responsive houses.

Gimonet retired in 2018, at the age of 83. ‘He also had a huge passion for music,' says Jacqueline. ‘He listened to Radio Classique or France Musique while working and continued to listen to these stations until the end of his life, all the while revising his memoirs. He hoped to publish them. He worked on 510 studies and completed 229 of them, always adhering to the same exacting standards where beauty, respect for the site, and the thoughtful intimacy of spaces intersect and respond to one another.'

Film credits:
Director: Anna Fechtig @anna.fechtig & Seohee Cho @west__0429
Director of Photography :Seohee Cho @west__0429
Location Scouting & Research: Adam Štěch @okolo_architecture
Editor: Gaohao Basile Chen @el_gao
Colour: Grading @raphaelcapre
Music & Sound Design: @chengsso

Special Thanks to Jacqueline Gimonet

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.

There was a time when optimisation was a technical term – the language of engineers, logistics managers and software designers. Today, optimisation is an aesthetic. In our algorithmically determined world, clarity sells. Design, at least in the digital space, is now about frictionlessness and legibility – all modular layouts, sans-serif type and white space.

We can trace the origins of this mindset all the way back to industrialisation, whose standardising principles formed the backbone of modernism, which rejected ornamentation in favour of functional logic. Minimalism extended this ethos by stripping design down to its essential elements. In architecture, the likes of Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, Le Corbusier and Tadao Ando emphasised structural clarity and open space; in art, Donald Judd, Dan Flavin and Sol LeWitt stripped away gesture and symbolism in favour of repetition and spatial relationships.

The digital revolution and, with it, UX (user experience) design – which requires efficiency and intuition – inherited these principles, and the rise of touch interfaces – demanding absolute clarity – intensified them. Early computer systems were clunky and dense but, over time, just as modernism rejected visual richness in favour of flow, serifs disappeared from typefaces and skeuomorphism – apps and icons styled like leather-bound calendars, yellow legal pads or detailed rubbish bins – gave way to abstract, 'flat' design.

This logic has begun to seep into physical art, often designed to read at thumbnail scale, colour-calibrated for screens and staged around ‘shareable’ angles. Artists like Petra Cortright produce digitally native work that turns everyday online culture – webcams, GIFs and Photoshop layers – into fine art. Martine Syms examines how Black identity circulates through media systems, while working fluently within them, describing herself as a ‘conceptual entrepreneur’ and borrowing from marketing, branding and corporate language. The contemporary creative is no longer just an artist, but a coherent visual system.

Designing the self

This logic underpins what is perhaps the defining 'exhibition space' of our time: the Instagram grid. Clean, modular and infinitely scrollable, its three-column layout is carefully designed to maximise content density while maintaining visual order.

‘Platforms like Instagram don't merely display images, they impose a visual epistemology,’ says Lev Manovich, a professor of digital culture at the City University of New York and author of The Language of New Media. ‘The grid, the square crop, the algorithmic feed – these are not neutral containers. They train our perception and affect how we process information and experiences outside of screens.’

Marquard Smith, founder and editor-in-chief of the Journal of Visual Culture and professor of artistic research at Vilnius Academy of Arts, agrees: ‘In the context of [UX culture’s] user-centricity, as consumers, it seems like we are getting what we want. But in actual fact, it’s more the case that our desires are being produced, designed and shaped by it.’

If modernism privileged functional coherence in objects, late capitalism extends those values to people. The individual becomes a design project: streamlined, curated and legible.

This performance of self-optimisation plays out vividly on social media, where influencers document 5am wake-ups, regular workouts and ‘clean’ eating. It even spawned the digital aesthetic trend known as the ‘clean girl’ (as of February 2026, the hashtag had been used over 1.2 million times on TikTok): a persona defined by exercise, skincare rituals and perfectly curated beige homes. ‘The pressure toward coherence – consistent palette, recognisable style, legible “brand” – is not vanity. It is a structural requirement of platforms that reward algorithmic legibility,’ explains Manovich. ‘What looks like an aesthetic choice is often a compliance strategy.’

During its heyday, a critique of modernism was that it risked turning design preference into moral prescription – that ‘restraint’ was promoted not merely as a stylistic choice, but as an ethically superior way of living. Adolf Loos’ 1908 essay, Ornament and Crime – considered one of modernism’s seminal texts – condemned decoration as wasteful and culturally backward.

Similarly, social media’s hyper-curated lifestyles – frictionless, calibrated, free of imperfections – become inextricably tied to ideas about self-worth. ‘There’s nothing inherently neutral about optimisation,’ argues Smith. ‘It’s all part of a “civilising process”. The pressure to optimise – to succeed, to conform, to be “liked” – is bad for personhood, for wellbeing, for the world.’

‘Less is a bore’: In praise of messiness

In 1972, architecture theorist Charles Jencks declared modernism symbolically ‘dead’, based on a common critique that its ultimate expression could feel sterile or inhuman. This backlash set the stage for the rise of postmodernism, encapsulated in architect Robert Venturi’s assertion that ‘less is a bore’.

Now, a counter-aesthetic to our new ‘digital modernism’ is emerging: messy, awkward and visibly human. It foregrounds friction over seamlessness: grids are disrupted, kerning misaligned, typography hand-drawn and layers overlapping. On social media, it shows up as ‘lo-fi’ or anti-aesthetic culture – flash-heavy photography, screenshots posted to the grid and Instagram ‘photo dumps’ of blurry selfies and half-eaten meals.

Contemporary artists such as Cecily Brown, Mark Bradford and Charline von Heyl use loose brushwork, collage, tears, smudges and drips – a lineage that draws on the fragmented, gestural traditions of Robert Rauschenberg and Jean-Michel Basquiat. This emphasis on making ‘the hand’ visible was pushed further in Laura Lima’s ‘The Drawing Drawing’ at London’s ICA earlier in 2026, which reimagined life drawing as a participatory, shifting experience in which models and viewers moved on mechanised platforms. The process itself became the spectacle.

‘In my own art practice, I make iPad paintings that take 45 to 60 hours each, using slow manual processes. The work is dense, nuanced and deliberately “overworked” by platform standards,’ says Manovich. ‘It maintains a different temporality – a refusal of the efficiency imperative.’ (In this spirit, people are actively opting out of UX-optimised tech in favour of intentionally limited devices that add friction and reduce engagement, as reflected in our edit of ‘lo-fi gadgets’).

Could it be that what we’re seeing today echoes the pendulum swing that followed modernism’s apex – that people are beginning to withdraw from the labour of self-branding? Perhaps, but, as Smith points out, ‘anti-design is still a design aesthetic’. The photo dump becomes a performance of nonchalance. Evidence of process in art and visual culture becomes a trend. Which raises the question: does authenticity always become a strategy?

The aesthetics of optimisation are not inherently shallow – UX principles emerged to make systems more accessible. But under late capitalism, ambiguity, slowness and difficulty – qualities central to art and, surely, happiness – risk marginalisation. The turn towards the unpolished signals a desire to reintroduce texture and imperfection into life – to resist the expectation that everything needs to ‘convert’.

So much – if not all – of our modern design sensibility is predicated on what came before. Design history is very much alive in the present, and nowhere more so than at Wallpaper*, where we have a particular penchant for the modern and the 20th century.

Whether you want a confident grounding in the basics or to drill down into a specific movement, period or discipline, these books are all brilliant reference points (if interior design is more your thing, check out our reading list on the topic). They also happen to look the part: handsome volumes that earn their place on a shelf, coffee table or the design library you're so meticulously curating.

Eight essential reads for anyone serious about design history

Royal Festival Hall: A Living Icon, published by Merrell, launches today (16 April 2026), bringing together architects, musicians, historians and cultural programmers to tell the story of one of London's best-loved buildings. Published to coincide with the 75th anniversary of its opening, the book features 21 written contributions covering different aspects of the hall, from its architectural history to the story of its famous organ and the life of its production team, illustrated with photography specially commissioned from architectural photographer Edmund Sumner.

Royal Festival Hall first opened on London's South Bank in 1951 as part of the Festival of Britain. It was the first major modern public building in post-war Britain, conceived as a symbol of national recovery. As British art historian Dan Cruickshank describes it in his foreword, the hall was ‘a tangible expression of a burning desire to create a better society after the destruction inflicted on London during the Second World War’.

The architects Robert Matthew and Leslie Martin faced significant practical challenges – the site was hemmed in by railway lines and required draining before construction could begin. Few concert halls of this scale had been built before, and space was tight. Their solution was to raise the auditorium as an ‘egg within a box’ – the inner auditorium suspended inside the building's outer envelope – which also provided acoustic isolation from the surrounding noise.

Inside, walls, stage canopy and floor were clad in elm, sycamore and birch, with teak ribs along the lower sections. The cantilevered seating boxes, which project outward from the sides of the auditorium, drew admiration even from Le Corbusier, who called them ‘a joke, but a good one’.

The building was not universally welcomed. In 1951, the conductor Sir Thomas Beecham told the Liverpool Echo that he questioned whether ‘in 350 years there has ever been erected on the soil of this grand old country a more repellent, a more unattractive, a more ugly and more monstrous structure’.

Yet its intentions were primarily social: unlike traditional concert halls, it was designed without class divisions – no separate bars or entrances for different audiences. The foyers were conceived as open civic spaces, and the building was intended to welcome everyone, whether attending a performance by a world-famous orchestra or stopping in for a cup of coffee.

The hall has since been awarded Grade I-listed status, recognising it as a building of exceptional historic and architectural importance. Whatever reservations greeted it in 1951, it has long since become an integral part of London's cultural life.

Much of California's architectural legacy is rooted in the midcentury and, in particular, the city's wealth of modernist houses. Southern California has always been among the most architecturally progressive parts of the USA, especially since the 1920s, when Los Angeles experienced a golden era with the birth of the movie and entertainment industry. Linked to this, modernist architecture and design became a catalyst for a new modern lifestyle.

Explore the modernist houses of Los Angeles

It was in Los Angeles, where, from the 1920s to the 1960s, designers and architects transformed the ideas of the European avant-garde to fit the climate and environment of the American West. From the modern bungalows of Greene & Greene and the very first modernist creations of Irving Gill at the beginning of the 20th century to the pioneering and now-iconic houses of Richard Neutra and Rudolph Schindler, Los Angeles became one of the most important places for architectural experimentation, even before the Second World War.

A history of modernist houses of Los Angeles

It was in the 1950s, especially, that the city became a symbol of the American dream – a new American society of prosperity for the middle class. A specific style of midcentury modernism, based on the ideas of the Bauhaus and the rationalisation of design and architecture, was born here after the Second World War, fuelled by the country's rapid economic growth. The main aim of the modernists was to create a clear, universal system of manufacturing and building for both products and construction, which would provide the components for elevated, modern living. The Case Study House program, a series of commissions for forward-thinking homes run by the Arts and Architecture magazine, and the architects involved in it, were central to this mission.

However, more thoughts and experiments, beyond the minimalist modernism of the Case Study House program, emerged at that time. More significant strands of this movement, including organic architecture and the Hollywood Regency style, were flourishing. Architects, such as John Lautner, built lavish houses representing the American Dream.

Los Angeles beyond modernism

During the late 1960s and 1970s, the modernist dream slowly started winding down to make way for Postmodernism and, in Los Angeles, especially, Deconstructivism. The last, in particular, an experimental movement that challenged the norm, gave birth to architecture giants such as Pritzker-winning architects Frank Gehry and Thom Mayne. Their work symbolically brought the evolution of 20th-century architecture in Southern California to a close – preparing it for the 21st century that followed.

Tour the modernist houses of Los Angeles

Gamble House

Architect: Greene & Greene
When: 1908

Based in Pasadena, brothers Charles Sumner Greene and Henry Mather Greene were influential practitioners of the American Arts and Crafts Movement in the early twentieth century. Their residential architecture centres around sophisticated wooden construction in which complex designs were realised through elaborate joinery and framing, partly inspired by traditional Japanese aesthetics. Gamble House in Pasadena is one of their finest works and exemplary of the architects’ style.

Horatio West Court

Architect: Irving Gill
When: 1919

Irving Gill is considered a forgotten pioneer of American modernism – and not only that. His very early interpretations of functionalist principles even overtook some of his progressive European counterparts, such as Josef Hoffmann or Adolf Loos. His small housing complex, West Horatio Court in Santa Monica, highlights the architect‘s ability to connect the historical continuity of colonial and Hispanic influences with orthodox modernist principles.

Spadena House (The Witch's House)

Architect: Harry Oliver
When: 1921

Originally built as offices and a dressing room for Irvin Willat's film studio in Culver City, Spadena House is a whimsical relict of Hollywood's golden age silent movie era. Designed by art director Harry Oliver, the house, which was moved to its present location in 1926, represents a specific movement within Hollywood architecture called Storybook architecture, often influenced by European fairytale stories.

Storer House

Architect: Frank Lloyd Wright
When: 1924

It was in Los Angeles where architect Frank Lloyd Wright experimented with the Mayan Revival style, which he applied to several house designs during the 1920s. After his success with Hollyhock House, Wright was commissioned by other clients to deliver more glamorous residential designs. In 1923 and 1924, Wright designed four houses in Los Angeles, constructed in precast concrete modules interwoven by steel rods, today known as Textile Block Houses. One of the lesser-known examples is the Storer House.

Victor M. Carter Residence

Architect: Milton J. Black
When: 1935

One of the most celebrated architects of the Streamline Moderne style, in the mid-1930s, Milton J. Black, worked in Los Angeles, where he mainly built private homes with dynamic modern forms, as well as Spanish Colonial Revival residences. This house in Los Feliz demonstrates typical Streamline Moderne features such as white curved walls and expansive corner windows.

Entanza House

Architect: Harwell Hamilton Harris
When: 1937

John Entanza, editor-in-chief of Arts and Architecture Magazine, commissioned architect Harwell Hamilton Harris to build his own house in Pacific Palisades. The house is a unique interpretation of Harris‘s modernism. He was often inspired by the Bay Area Style and Wright‘s organicism, but Entanza's house reveals more Bauhaus and Streamline Moderne influences.

Insley House

Architect: Edith Northman
When: 1940

The much lesser-known, Denmark-born architect Edith Norman was best known for the Union Oil Stations she designed. Insley House, at the foot of the famous Griffith Observatory park, shows masterful finesse in its protruding geometric volumes on a very steep site.

Alexander and Flora Hural House

Architect: Gregory Ain
When: 1940

Gregory Ain is one of the most influential early Californian modernists, interested mainly in low and medium-cost housing. He designed a number of residences, including a house for Alexander and Flora Hural with simple lines and volumes hinting at Ain‘s involvement with the International Style.

Kimpson Nixon House

Architect: Raphael Soriano
When: 1940

Located on Long Beach in Los Angeles, the Kimpson Nixon House was one of the first projects of Californian modernist pioneer Ralph Soriano. He designed the house with a European modernist flavour and looked for inspiration in the early work of Richard Neutra, for whom he had worked.

Mutual Housing Association Development

Architect: Archibald Quincy Jones
When: 1947

In the late 1940s, young architect Archibald Quincy Jones was commissioned to design the Mutual Housing Association Development in Crestwood Hills. From the originally planned 500 houses, only 160 were built, and a fire in 1961 took out about 47. As of today, only 33 remained. In this project, Jones used his typical dynamic approach influenced by Frank Lloyd Wright.

Dawnridge House

Architect: Tony Duquette
When: 1950s onwards

The bizarre world of Tony Duquette is revealed in his Beverly Hills home. This interior designer studied on scholarships at the Chouinard Art Institute and Yale School of Drama. At that time, he also met the socialite and decorator Elsie de Wolfe, who had a background in European classicism and Surrealism. Under her influence, Duquette established himself as a designer, expressing his boundless imagination, as showcased in his only surviving interior.

Morris House and Studio

Architect: Allyn E. Morris
When: 1958

Allyn E. Morris, one of California’s lesser-known but no less important, innovative modernists, built this house and studio for himself in 1958 in the hilly area of Silver Lake, Los Angeles. Standing on a steep slope, from street level, one encounters the red-trimmed brick wall and canopy of the carport. However, the building extends at the back into a three-floor structure descended via a red spiral staircase. With its expansive glass windows, red steel framework and cantilevered roof, Morris’ residence combines sophisticated functionalism and bespoke engineering with an organic approach to spatial layout and vibrant use of colour.

Hunt House

Architect: Craig Ellwood
When: 1957

Craig Ellwood was a highly influential American architect who, in 1953, was one of those commissioned by Arts and Architecture magazine for its Case Study Houses programme. His minimal, slender style of architecture with an emphasis on openness and transparency is exemplary of California modernism. Designed as a weekend residence for its owners, the Hunt House sits over the beach in Malibu and comprises two boxy pavilions elevated above the sand on wooden stilts.

The Jacob and Sophia Karasik Residence

Architect: Lloyd Wright
When: 1961

Located in Beverly Hills, the Karasik House was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright‘s son Lloyd Wright, whose contribution to Los Angeles architecture history is also very important. Obviously influenced by the work of his father, Lloyd Wright designed several residences in Los Angeles using perforated pre-cast blocks. Karasik Residence is one of his last projects.

Kambara Residence

Architect: Richard Neutra
When: 1960

Around the corner from his VDL House, architect Richard Neutra designed a small colony of homes in 1960. One of them is Kambara Residence, which demonstrates Neutra's typical sleek horizontal architecture, synonymous with Los Angeles building culture.

Strick House

Architect: Oscar Niemeyer
When: 1963

Built in 1963, the Strick House in Santa Monica is the only Oscar Niemeyer project in North America. Defined by an open plan interior, large floor-to-ceiling windows and punctuated overhangs, the house lacks Niemeyer‘s signature curves and rather reflects the more typical Californian horizontal lines.

Waxman Residence

Architect: Barry J. Mottif
When: 1964

Little-known architect Barry J. Mottif designed this house for his friend, artist Arlene Waxman, and her husband, Jerry. It was completed in 1964. Located on a steeply sloped site in Studio City, the house features stacked wooden-covered volumes revealing the influence of the organic architecture of John Lautner, whose studio Mottif was an intern in.

Stevens House

Architect: John Lautner
When: 1968

An absolute master of American organic architecture and unconventional residential designs, John Lautner was responsible for some of the best midcentury buildings created in California. Malibu is home to several of his designs. One is this beach house built by Lautner in 1968, the year he realised his famous Elrod House in Palm Springs. The house features two curved concrete shell structures set at opposing orientations.

Kappe Residence

Architect: Ray Kappe
When: 1965–67

Although Ray Kappe was one of the leading Californian modernists, his work remains relatively unknown. The architect, who was also a co-founder of the prestigious Southern California Institute of Architecture (SCI-Arc), became a master in creating spacious residential architecture, focusing his efforts on designing private houses. The Kappe Residence, built for himself and his wife Shelly, is the result of his interest in both the sleek, geometric lines of modernism and the harmony between dwelling and nature, as promoted by Frank Lloyd Wright.

Norton House

Architect: Frank Gehry
When: 1984

Designed in 1984 for artist Lynn Norton and writer William Norton, Norton House is technically not modernist, but rather represents the essence of Gehry‘s pioneering deconstructivist period. Composed of different volumes and materials, the structure is a seemingly chaotic assemblage of rooms with a studio set atop a pillar.

Al Struckus House

Architect: Bruce Goff
When: 1982

With the Al Struckus House, the master of organic architecture, Bruce Goff, left a powerful legacy. His final built project, and his only private residence in California, is a playful but commanding union of space and form. One of the most original architects of his generation, Goff completed the design just before he died in 1982. His client was aeronautical engineer Al Struckus, and the project is set in Woodland Hills.

Schwartz House

Architect: Pierre Koenig
When: 1994

Built in 1994, Schwartz House is an example of the late career of one of the most influential Californian architects, Pierre Koenig. Known mostly for his Case Study House number 22 (Stahl House), Koenig remained loyal to modernist minimalism and structural simplicity until the end of his career.

Tucked into the Pennine fringes of West Yorkshire, Farnley Hey is one of Britain’s most celebrated modernist homes. Designed in 1954 by architect Peter Womersley, it was originally conceived as a wedding gift for his brother, and is now on the market with The Modern House for £1.05 million.

Beyond its deeply personal origins, Farnley Hey was a statement of ambition. It stood apart from prevailing housing traditions, offering a striking reimagining of domestic architecture in postwar Britain. Womersley, among the country’s foremost modernists, drew on the influence of Le Corbusier and Frank Lloyd Wright to create a design that felt strikingly un-English: flat roofs, a blend of wood and stone façades, floor-to-ceiling glazing and fluid open-plan interiors gave the house more in common with mid-century Californian homes than with the traditional architecture of the Pennines.

Despite this, the house sits effortlessly within its landscape. Positioned on the northern edge of approximately 1.7 acres of grounds, it enjoys panoramic views across open countryside. Its relationship with the environment is integral rather than incidental: expansive glazing invites natural light deep into the interiors, creating a constant dialogue between inside and out.

Materiality plays a key role in softening the modernist rigour. Camphorwood and York stone flooring, alongside lemon-yellow Formica wall panels, introduce warmth, texture and playfulness. Much of the original built-in mid-century furniture has been preserved, while thoughtful updates ensure the house feels lived-in rather than museum-like.

The double-height reception room is the heart of the home, famously known as ‘the dance floor’. Designed to host Womersley’s lively gatherings, it features polished floors, a built-in audio system and double-glazed windows that frame Pennine views. Above, a cantilevered mezzanine gallery provides a quieter, more intimate space. The remaining accommodation includes four bedrooms – two connected by a Jack-and-Jill bathroom – a family bathroom, a study, and a kitchen and dining area with a walk-in pantry.

More than 70 years on, Farnley Hey endures as a radical vision of modern living – both a product of its time and strikingly timeless.

Farnley Hey is listed with The Modern House/Inigo

Textile designer, weaver, writer and graphic artist, Anni Albers (1899-1994) was a pioneer of 20th-century modernism. Her work prompted a reconsideration of textiles as an art form – both in their functional roles and as wall hangings – and pushed the processes of printmaking into new territory. Like many of the 20th century’s most influential female designers, her work long existed in the shadow of her husband, the painter and colour theorist Josef Albers, but in recent years has come into sharper focus.

That renewed attention is reflected in the publication of her first major biography, written by cultural historian Nicholas Fox Weber, who knew the Alberses personally and has served as executive director of the Josef and Anni Albers Foundation for four decades. Drawing on extensive archival research and decades of personal contact, the book revisits Albers’ life and work, tracing how a material long associated with function became a vehicle for some of the 20th century’s most rigorous artistic thinking.

Rethinking weaving

Born Annelise Elsa Frieda Fleischmann in Berlin in 1899, Albers grew up in a cultured and affluent household. Her father ran a successful furniture business, while her maternal grandfather founded Ullstein Verlag, then one of Europe’s largest publishing houses. Even as a teenager, Fox Weber notes, she was 'more curious and adventurous than most people…open to rebellion, to confronting the unexpected, and to living originally.'

She arrived at the Bauhaus in 1922, part of a generation seeking new forms of expression in the unsettled years following the First World War. Like many women at the school, she was directed towards the weaving workshop. What followed was less an acceptance of constraint than a redefinition of it. Working with cotton, linen and jute, as well as metallic threads and horsehair, she approached weaving as a system – one grounded in logic, repetition and variation.

Her compositions, built from repeated lines and subtle shifts in tone, rejected representation in favour of abstraction, yet retained a physical immediacy. These were objects to be handled as much as seen. In doing so, Albers helped collapse the boundary between art and design, positioning textiles as a site of experimentation rather than decoration.

From the Bauhaus to Black Mountain

In 1925, she married Josef Albers, whom she had met at the Bauhaus. When the school closed under pressure from the Nazi regime in 1933 – faced with demands to abandon what it deemed 'degenerate' art – the pair were left without work. As conditions in Germany became increasingly precarious, particularly for Anni as a Jewish artist, an opportunity emerged through Philip Johnson, whom she had met during his visit to the Bauhaus. After a chance meeting in Berlin, Johnson returned to the United States and soon sent a telegram inviting the couple to join the newly established Black Mountain College in North Carolina. They arrived in New York in November 1933.

The move marked a dramatic shift in circumstances. Having lived comfortably in Berlin, the couple found themselves in modest conditions, supported by the college with accommodation and meals. Yet the environment proved formative. At Black Mountain, where they remained until 1949, Albers developed both her practice and her pedagogy. Her philosophy – grounded in clarity, discipline and responsiveness to material – was later set out in her book On Weaving (1965) and would go on to shape a generation of artists; later figures such as Sheila Hicks and Ruth Asawa have cited her as an influence.

Expanding the field

Albers’ circle extended across disciplines – from John Cage to Buckminster Fuller, as well as Bauhaus figures including Walter Gropius and Paul Klee – reflecting the cross-pollination that defined midcentury modernism. Her work drew on observation as much as theory, from Berlin interiors to the textures and colours of Mexico, which became a lasting influence.

During her time at Black Mountain, she also developed an experimental series of ‘hardware’ jewellery with student Alex Reed, using utilitarian materials such as paper clips, screws and sink fittings. Created in part in response to the loss of her family’s possessions during exile – her parents fled Germany in 1939 with little to their name, their jewellery either confiscated by Nazis or used to secure safe passage – the pieces challenged conventional notions of value and ornament. Though initially met with scepticism, they embodied a principle that ran through her wider practice: that meaning lies not in material worth, but in invention and perception.

In the transcript from a talk she gave to students in March 1942, she wrote: ‘To our surprise we found that though we used such common materials as bobby-pins or washers or stopper chains for our necklaces, they sometimes looked quite beautiful and even precious. To our greater surprise still, we found that other people liked them too. But our greatest surprise was that others, like ourselves, did not care about the value or lack of value of the materials we used, but enjoyed, instead of material value, that of surprise and inventiveness – a spiritual value.’

Her designs are now held in major collections including the Museum of Modern Art in New York, which played a pivotal role in her recognition. In 1945, the museum staged a small exhibition of modern textiles that included her work. Though modest in scale, it marked an important moment, signalling the growing significance of textiles within modern art. Four years later, in 1949, Albers was given a landmark solo exhibition – the institution’s first dedicated show for a textile artist, and only the second afforded to a woman.

Conceived with Philip Johnson and initiated by Edgar Kaufmann Jr, the exhibition presented woven works, room dividers and material studies that prioritised structure, tactility and invention over decoration. Installed with unusual clarity – floating furniture, suspended screens and rhythmic partitions – it emphasised the inherent qualities of materials, from raffia and cellophane to metal threads. A review in The New York Times described her as 'a fabric engineer', underscoring her position as both artist and innovator. Though understated at the time, the exhibition marked a turning point, helping to establish textiles as a serious medium within modern art.

New Haven and beyond

In 1950, Anni and Josef Albers moved to New Haven, Connecticut, where Josef took up a teaching position at Yale University, becoming chair of the Department of Design. The move marked a shift from the experimental environment of Black Mountain College to a more established academic setting, while providing a stable base from which both could develop their work.

For Anni, this was a period of increasing independence. Her reputation continued to grow through the 1950s, with exhibitions across the United States, including a major touring show organised by MIT. At the same time, she expanded her practice beyond weaving, turning to printmaking in the early 1960s.

Her prints translated the logic of weaving into a new medium. Working across lithography, screenprinting and embossing, she developed compositions built from repeated lines, grids and subtle tonal variation. As in her textiles, structure remained central: image emerged through process rather than gesture, reinforcing her position as an artist for whom material and method were inseparable.

Legacy

Anni and Josef Albers worked well into the 1970s, remaining restless and curious throughout their later years. After Josef died in 1976, Anni devoted her attention to the stewardship of his legacy as well as her own practice – continuing her printmaking with Gemini G.E.L. and overseeing exhibitions of her work.

She died in 1994, yet her influence has only grown more visible in recent years, as contemporary designers and artists return to questions of material, process and the value of making. Retrospectives at the Gugggenheim Bilbao in 2017 and Tate Modern in 2018 put her work firmly into the spotlight once more. Another show at Blanton Museum in Austin, Texas followed in 2024, while just last year, Dedar launched five fabrics based on Albers' weavings with showcases in Milan and New York. If modernism often privileged the monumental and the industrial, her work offers another perspective, one that starts with a simple thread and works outward.

'Anni Albers: A Life' is released in the US on 28 April 2026 and in the UK on 23 June 2026.

Shop Anni Albers

Experimental architecture isn’t always liveable architecture. That’s certainly true of the Pyramid House, a bold statement of future residential design built in 1981 as part of the developer-led ‘Homeworld 81’ exhibition in Milton Keynes. One of Britain’s most familiar new towns, Milton Keynes was incorporated in 1967 and laid out along modernist lines, with design and planning overseen by the Milton Keynes Development Corporation. Homeworld was located in the town’s Bradwell Common district, one of 18 medieval villages swallowed up by the new town, and featured 36 ‘futuristic’ structures, all of which were displayed to the public as visitable show homes before being sold.

Step inside the experimental Pyramid House

The Pyramid House was one of the stars of this new suburb, one of many projects that focused on energy-saving and efficiency. Designed by Cardiff-based Wigley Fox Architects, it stood alongside the Container House, the Glass House, the Flexible House and the Computerised Home, as well as prefabricated designs from Canada and Scandinavia. It must all have been terribly unfamiliar to the average British homebuyer, with the pyramidal shape and unconventional floorplan adding a layer of exoticism.

‘It is a very, very strange building,’ admits architect Mark Bonshek of London-based studio Khan Bonshek. The Pyramid House survived the 1980s, 1990s and noughties largely unmolested, save for a spot on a reality TV decorating show that doubled down on its postmodern qualities. It was in this condition that the house found itself up for sale via The Modern House. The new owners approached several architects, ultimately appointing Khan Bonshek to update, refresh and overhaul what had become a rather mixed bag of style and layout.

From the shingle-clad street façade with its inset garage and two entrances, the shallow slope of the pyramidal form stretches away to a point. Back in the 1980s, intrigued punters marched through the house, weaving in and out of the bedrooms and living spaces on the square floor plan before ascending the central spiral staircase to the upper level, beneath the pyramidal skylight at the apex. To accommodate this stream of visitors, the rooms on the main floor often had doors in and out, creating a confused and inefficient layout – the house was ‘designed for flow rather than as an actual house’, says Bonshek.

Other than some surface finishes and the addition of a new dormer at the rear, the layout remained largely unchanged. ‘We thought, we’ve got this very strange shape, so let’s try and play around with it,’ says Bonshek, and their scheme seeks to make the use of space more efficient while also giving Pyramid House a 21st-century low-energy upgrade.

The heart of the renovation is the new staircase, comprising hundreds of pieces of milled birch ply. ‘It is the central moment of the building,’ Bonshek says of ‘the way the light filters down and plays off the form’. A tactile sweep of stacked wood, the staircase is a three-dimensional sculpture that now serves as a focal point for practically every room in the house. ‘Our original pitch was to bring out this central feature,’ says Sabba Khan and while some original doorways were closed off, other openings and connections were widened to accentuate views through the structure. With light cascading down from the glazed apex, the ribbon-like strips of birch animate the interior. Created by Landmark Joinery in Liverpool, the staircase was built off-site before being taken apart and assembled in just three days.

With the new staircase serving as the principal axis for the house, the architects worked with the pyramid’s geometric qualities, treating the house like an interlocking three-dimensional jigsaw. Practicalities were not so easily won, however. The quirks of the original layout had to be tempered, particularly the curious half-basement at the foot of the stairs, with a raised timber roof that ate into the ground-floor living room. Bonshek speculates that this was originally a stab at a very period-correct fallout shelter (‘it wouldn’t have been terribly effective’). Khan Bonshek has repurposed the basement as a library space at the foot of the stairs, with the same terrazzo flooring and duo-tone paint that inverts the colour scheme on the top floor.

The house is timber-framed, with four large beams running down the hipped gables. Instead of meeting the ground at each corner, the structure is raised up to create a shadow gap below the building, which cantilevers out from the foundations. Floor joists radiate from the centre. ‘[With a pyramid] you’re dealing with space in a completely different way,’ says Bonshek of the plan. The uppermost level was the most challenging to deal with. ‘The project is like a massive loft,’ says Khan, ‘everything is triangular.’

The architects have repurposed the eaves to incorporate two sleeping pods, alongside a wet room, powder room, compact sauna and office workspace, with an airy sitting room occupying the dormer extension. From here, a straight flight of stairs leads down the slope of the pyramid to the garden at the rear. One of the sleeping pods contains a fragment of the boldly patterned carpet designed for the ground floor by Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen as part of the house’s turn-of-the-century TV makeover (‘Our clients are very attached to that carpet,’ Bonshek notes).

Another retention is the fragments of the diagonal wood cladding around the staircase lobby, painted and extended to form a frame. In addition to the terrazzo, there’s also oak flooring on the upper level, as well as bespoke new kitchen cabinetry and wardrobes. The two sleeping pods bring the total of bedrooms up to five, and the reconfigured plan makes use of every nook and cranny, with the heating and ventilation (provided by two new ground source heat pumps) woven into the structure. The original ‘Heath Robinson-type’ natural ventilation arrangement had to be replaced, and there’s also mechanical cooling, thanks to the ‘greenhouse on the roof’. As Bonshek notes, many of the Homeworld houses tend to overheat in the summer and are drafty during the winter.

With the interior resplendent in its new blue-green colour scheme – a counterpoint to the red shingle exterior – and that luminous staircase at its core, Khan Bonshek’s refurbishment bridges the eclectic postmodernism of the early 1980s with contemporary sensibilities and tastes. ‘The staircase is magical,’ says Khan. ‘If we ever had to do another pyramid, we’d know that the central core is the keystone of the piece.’ Make no mistake, the end result is still wonderfully eccentric as well as a lot more livable.

khanbonshek.com

This article appears in the April 2026 Global Interiors Issue of Wallpaper*, 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

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.

The late great Arthur Müdry’s family home, now on the market some five decades after its creation, is both a lovingly crafted ode to West Coast modernism and a testament to Vancouver’s midcentury modernist architecture community.

Tour Müdry House, now for sale in West Vancouver

Müdry’s Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired Beaton House, a paean to the Pacific forest, located eight miles from his family home in West Vancouver and once part of the annual West Vancouver Art Museum Homes tour, was sadly demolished by buyers when its original owners put it on the market in 2018. While West Vancouver – a treasure trove of midcentury gems – still lacks any substantive laws to protect modernist heritage, hopes are high that a preservationist will scoop this one up.

As a teenager in 1940s Calgary, Müdry dreamed of being an aeroplane engineer. But a chance discovery of a book on gothic cathedrals caught his imagination and changed his career trajectory to architecture. While grounded in local wood and stone, his work embodies a sense of nature as sacrosanct, and his family home was designed accordingly as a cedar-and-glass rich cathedral of light.

In his 1977 renovation, Müdry took a non-descript box-like 1937 bungalow, that like many of the surrounding homes was buttoned down, conservative and closed off to the natural world, and blew it up.

Opening it up to framed views of the surrounding fir and cedar trees with full-length horizontal sightlines and oversized panels of glass, he removed all the doors, took down walls and played with the roofline, shape-shifting what had been a typical suburban home into a temple to the genus loci. Strategically placed mirrors helped collapse wall planes, extend space, and provoke visual connections between rooms and to the outdoors.

The renovated house expanded to 3,790 sq ft over three levels, and the roofline was raised to use the original attic as a storey. The inside was wrapped in a wabi sabi-like combination of the rough and the refined – raw hewn cedar walls contrasted with smoother fir flooring. Custom cabinetry and judicious use of glazing transformed the interstitial into the intimate – like an upstairs study peeking over a grove of bamboo, or a downstairs bedroom overlooking a Müdry-designed reflecting pool - within the larger, light-filled spaces.

Rounded windows were salvaged from the old Edwardian Birk's Building in downtown Vancouver when it was demolished in the mid-1970s, and Müdry painstakingly stripped the paint and sanded them himself, in homage to a previous era. Now his own home has become a classic.

A chevron-capped cedar structural beam offers an Arts and Crafts-style nod, while much of the carpentry was done by Russell Hollingsworth (before he had his architectural licence), son of renowned West Coast modern architect Fred Hollingsworth, a friend and contemporary of Müdry, also known for his craftsmanship.

The journey down a stairwell edged by a concrete wall to Müdry’s ground-level study and reflecting pool made of exposed aggregate feels like an Ericksonian moment. Indeed, the house embraces both the surrounding environment and the architectural history of the region.

Its sale comes at an auspicious moment, with a new archive of Müdry’s work recently organised by his family at the CAA, recognising his legacy as an often undersung star in the West Coast modern firmament.

Müdry House is for sale for $2,195,000

rew.ca

The ochre-red house at Burgfeld 136, in north Frankfurt, has two large, sunny bedrooms, a deep tub in the bathroom and a maid’s room. The two living spaces, furnished with oak sideboards by Austrian rationalist Franz Schuster, connect to an eat-in kitchen, designed by Margarete Schütte-Lihotzky, where everything – from the pantry canisters to the ironing board – is built into the teak cabinetry. It overlooks a long garden with fruit trees and vegetable beds. In short, it’s a place many urbanites would kill for, even though it was constructed 100 years ago on a wave of social idealism and modernist fever.

What is Neues Frankfurt?

Burgfeld was one of 12,000 affordable units in a 1920s housing scheme called Neues Frankfurt, planned by architect Ernst May and mayor Ludwig Landmann, social reformers determined to create lively, high-functioning, green-belt communities for working-class Frankfurters. The tree-lined streets encompassed schools, playgrounds and community centres, operating both as an incubator for the various architects, urban planners and designers involved, as well as offering a ticket to a simpler life. ‘This was the first fully electrified housing estate in Germany,’ says Elisa Lecointe, a Schuster furniture expert who works with the Ernst May Society. And it allowed Schütte-Lihotzky’s influential, compact, low-cost, wood-based ‘Frankfurt kitchen’ to shine. ‘A lot of the older residents still use the original kitchens today,’ says Lecointe.

Presaging model midcentury cities, the experiment was ahead of its time, even if the high-spec tilework, modular furnishings and built-ins pushed rents up beyond the widely affordable. May’s upbeat, functional modernism made him a hero, even in Berlin and Dessau. And it made Frankfurt a Weimar-era hotspot. If the 1929 stock market crash hadn’t kicked off a 15-year nightmare of poverty, political upheaval and war, May and Landmann – both Jews – might not have fled the country. And the Neues Frankfurt project might not have been halted five years into its ten-year timetable. ‘The Nazis hated this architecture,’ says Lecointe. ‘They couldn’t stand that form followed function. They preferred the idea of a British-style garden city – a traditional village with pitched roofs.’ Flat roofs, they said, looked Semitic.

‘When the grand plans for affordable housing were halted in the 1930s due to political and economic changes, not only were concrete projects lost, but important lessons and ideals were also neglected,’ says Matthias Wagner K, director of Frankfurt’s Museum of Applied Arts, and a May expert. That included not only social housing and communal spaces but strategies for sustainable living.

Yet Neues Frankfurt still has thousands of homes to celebrate in its centenary. Some of the units house families that have been in situ for generations, while others are home to arrivistes, drawn to their revolutionary principles and hyper-functionality. ‘Even the door handles by Ferdinand Kramer are sought-after objects,’ says Wagner. ‘Tecnoline now reproduces them with permission from the Kramer family.’

Today, says Lecointe, the rents are far more affordable. ‘The local property authority has a low-cost mandate, and it can only charge a quarter of your salary.’ And that covetable house at Burgfeld 136 has opened to the public as the Ernst May House museum, with plans in the offing for it to be bookable as a B&B.

The scheme’s centenary happened at an auspicious time for Frankfurt. It heralded the city’s turn as World Design Capital for 2026, and events are now kicking off across the Rhine-Main region, intended to demonstrate why the area deserves some of the kudos normally reserved for the design hotbeds of the Bauhaus movement, such as Weimar or Dessau.

Dutch architecture firm UNStudio is launching its sky-skimming live/work scheme Four, touted as a new Neues Frankfurt, with a street-level bar named after Ernst May. A modular pavilion designed by Constructlab will tour the region, hosting talks, workshops and educational programmes. And Hanau, a town to the east that was flattened by Allied raids, will introduce visitors to mobile botanical gardens developed by designer Kai Linke.

The southern suburb of Darmstadt is celebrating its own milestone: it’s 125 years since the artists’ colony (and Unesco World Heritage site) was built in gilded Arts-and-Crafts glory by Peter Behrens and a coterie of Jugendstil artists – it’s worth visiting just for a glimpse of the mosaics in Joseph Maria Olbrich’s bizarre Wedding Tower. If these don’t get people on the U-Bahn, then it’s a safe bet they’ll make the 20-minute journey to the housing estates and market halls that remain from May’s satellite projects.

‘The memory of Neues Frankfurt, of the energy that was mustered in the difficult times of the 1920s, formed not the sole but an important basis for our application for the title of World Design Capital,’ says Wagner K, who led the region’s bid. Now might be a good time to be reminded of an era when progressive thinking was institutionalised, and humanity and hope were central to residential design.

ernst-may-gesellschaft.de

This article appears in the April 2026 Global Interiors Issue of Wallpaper*, 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

Rudolph Schindler, like many of his contemporaries, championed a philosophy of harmonising architecture with the natural environment. Few projects embody this ideal as vividly as the Kallis-Sharlin Residence – a modernist gem that, from the outside, looks a bit like a treehouse. Now on the market for $6,350,000, it remains a striking testament to Schindler’s vision.

Designed in 1946 for artist and film art director Mischa Kallis, the residence is dramatically embedded into a hillside overlooking the San Fernando Valley in Los Angeles. Its layered volumes, cascading terraces and expansive glass walls trace the contours of the land, dissolving the boundary between interior and exterior.

Inside, the home is defined by dynamic geometries, unconventional angles and a fluid spatial arrangement that encourages movement – all hallmarks of Schindler’s work. One of its most distinctive features is the butterfly roof, whose clerestory openings bathe the interiors in soft daylight, lending each space a dappled, constantly shifting atmosphere.

Schindler’s use of rich, natural materials – mahogany and Douglas fir across walls, ceilings and built-in furnishings – imbues the interiors with warmth and texture. Outside, grape-stake cladding helps the residence blend effortlessly into its wooded hillside setting while enhancing a sense of privacy.

Beyond its architectural pedigree, the home offers an impressive array of amenities. Four fireplaces anchor the principal living spaces, while a spa-like steam shower and mahogany soaking tub evoke the feel of a private retreat. A glass-enclosed office, private bocce court and a swimmer’s pool with adjoining jacuzzi further enrich the property’s appeal.

Designated as Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monument #860, the Kallis-Sharlin Residence underwent a meticulous multi-year restoration between 2017 and 2022, led by acclaimed designer Barbara Bestor and architect Jeff Fink in collaboration with current owners Susan Orlean and John Gillespie. Orlean, a longtime staff writer for The New Yorker and author of The Orchid Thief and The Library Book, was famously portrayed by Meryl Streep in Spike Jonze’s film Adaptation.

The home’s integration with the landscape, combined with its architectural ingenuity and careful restoration, ensures its continued relevance – not merely as a historical artefact, but as an exploration of how architecture can coexist with the natural world.

The Kallis-Sharlin Residence is listed with Carolwood Estates in partnership with Knight Frank.

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

Where better to showcase Brazilian design than the home of design dealer, collector, curator and tireless champion of Brazilian creativity, Ulysses de Santi. Unsurprisingly, the São Paulo native’s residence is a veritable shrine to the country’s design culture. De Santi, who curated the Brazilian furniture exhibition Lightness & Tension at Christie’s in Los Angeles last September, has created an environment that reflects both deep connoisseurship and personal passion. Wallpaper* has the exclusive first look inside the recently redesigned property.

De Santi lives in a 1930s hillside residence in Los Angeles’ Doheny neighbourhood, and has reimagined his home through a lens informed by Brazilian modernism. The interiors are rich with texture and softness, most notably through the introduction of a series of arches that connect the rooms and soften the building’s original geometry. Limestone-washed walls lend the surfaces a velvety depth, their subtle tonal variations shifting with the light. Meanwhile, the original black-stained floors have been preserved, providing a striking graphic foundation.

Of course, de Santi lives among an unparalleled collection of Brazilian modern furniture, much of which is rarely seen outside museum settings. The great figures of Brazilian modernism are all represented: José Zanine Caldas, Lina Bo Bardi, Geraldo de Barros and Sérgio Rodrigues among them. At times, the home feels like a hybrid between museum, gallery and private shrine.

Yet de Santi’s approach is not about preserving Brazil’s design heritage behind glass. Instead, it is about celebrating it in everyday life. Despite their rarity (and significant market value), these pieces are not treated as untouchable objects but fully integrated into the rhythms of daily life. De Santi and his children interact with them daily, transforming the house into a ‘living archive’, as he describes it.

Visitors enter through a foyer with soaring ceilings and a diverse arrangement of artworks. At the end of the hallway sits a sideboard by Joaquim Tenreiro, one of the most significant Brazilian furniture designers represented in the collection.

A breakfast nook also features Tenreiro’s work, including a rare dining set with a free-form table and its original chairs. Nearby: a sculptural bar with stools by Jorge Zalszupin. The space is energised by bright paintings and framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that open onto the backyard, flooding the interior with light.

The adjoining dining room continues the dialogue between structure and softness. A Zalszupin table with black leather-wrapped bases and a rosewood top is paired with velvet-upholstered dining chairs designed by Geraldo de Barros. Large-scale artworks with contrasting textures introduce a dramatic tension.

A contemporary sofa upholstered in raw silk and golden velvet anchors the living area. It is surrounded by sculptural ‘Cubo’ armchairs and wooden coffee tables by Zalszupin – pieces that highlight the organic forms and natural materials characteristic of Brazilian design. Metal bookshelves display personal artefacts and artworks, blurring the boundary between the collectible and the personal.

The master bedroom continues de Santi’s curatorial approach, featuring a Tenreiro daybed and a rare chaise lounge rocker crafted from natural wood. Throughout the house, Brazilian design pieces are punctuated by international artworks and objects, adding a global dimension to the collection.

In de Santi’s home, he demonstrates conclusively that the warmth, richness and humanistic spirit of Brazilian design should not be confined behind glass or left to gather dust. In this setting, the pieces are not merely admired – they are wholly experienced.

Recreate the mood

Considering the owners of one of Austria’s most prestigious hotels personally greet arrivals and wave off departures at any hour, it comes as little surprise that equal care is given to what surrounds their guests. High in the altitudes of Lech, Hotel Almhof Schneider has presided over the Alpine landscape for almost a century – since 1929, to be precise.

Current fourth-generation owners Gerold and Katia Schneider are no strangers to their family’s drive to preserve the hotel’s heritage while ensuring its future legacy. Their former life leading a small architectural practice between Vienna and Salzburg remains palpable in the way they operate the hotel, guiding sensitive restoration projects and initiatives, including the gallery and exhibition space Kunstraum Zug and the artist’s studio Werkraum Zug.

Beyond its considered permanent art and design collection – which includes (among others) a James Turrell Skyspace, botanical paintings by local artist Paul Renner and a whimsical fireplace by Italian sculptor Giuseppe Ducrot – the hotel now introduces a temporary exhibition focused on 20th-century art and furniture, developed in collaboration with Rajan Bijlani.

The British-Indian collector and curator is known for opening the doors of his north London home, once the studio of British ceramicist Emmanuel Cooper, to host intimate showcases that extend the site’s creative spirit. In a similar vein, through ‘Provenance’ at the Almhof Schneider, traditional exhibition parameters are gently dissolved: furniture and objects are distributed throughout the hotel, allowing guests to encounter them naturally.

‘Provenance’ at the Almhof Schneider

The exhibition’s title derives from American artist Amie Siegel’s 2013 film of the same name, which traces the migration of Pierre Jeanneret and Le Corbusier’s Chandigarh furniture into Western collecting circuits. At its core is a reflection on how objects, ideas and aesthetics travel across continents, cultures and domestic lives, expanding the confines of traditional genres.

In ‘Provenance’, the structural clarity of Swiss-French modernism is reframed through movements of migration. British potter Lucie Rie, for example, who trained in Vienna before relocating to London in 1938, developed a modernist sensibility shaped by the city yet deeply attuned to the natural world. A highlight here is an early teacup and saucer from her Vienna years (c. 1936), underscoring the exhibition’s themes of continuity and rupture.

Across the showcase, Bijlani’s curation centres on objects with what he describes as ‘unusually clear lived histories’, spanning rare early-production pieces by Swiss architect Pierre Jeanneret – conceived for Chandigarh and produced through local craft traditions using solid teak and Indian rosewood – and an early charcoal drawing of a Seated Figure by German-British painter Frank Auerbach, executed in 1951; his rapid, expressive lines then foreshadowing one of the most important art movements of the post-war generation (The School of London).

Much like the concept of Gesamtkunstwerk – the German term for a ‘total work of art’ that synthesises multiple disciplines – ‘Provenance’ brings together diverse artistic lineages, allowing their many origins to converge and shape new dialogues between objects and landscapes, linking the Himalayas to the Alps, Vienna to London, and the origins of modernism to its enduring afterlives.

Looking ahead, the Schneiders will soon unveil Haus W – a sensitively restored 17th-century chalet in nearby Zug, reimagined for year-round stays and conceived as both a home and a platform for artists-in-residence. It will house a Le Corbusier desk – widely believed to be a unique example.

‘Provenance’ at The Almhof Schneider is on until mid-April 2026. The hotel is located at Tannberg 59, 6764 Lech, Austria

Architectural heritage rescue missions and real estate opportunities are often at odds. The newly listed Ramada House in Tucson, Arizona, which was designed by architect Judith Chafee in 1973 and completed in 1975, is a rare instance in which these purposes overlap.

Tour this Judith Chafee designed house on the market

Tucson locals have a fierce, protective loyalty regarding Chafee (1932-1998) and her legacy. And like many of the seminal architects’ homes, this masterpiece of regional desert modernism has changed hands startlingly few times. So, when real estate developers emerged as the only serious prospective buyers for the Ramada House over the years, as it was put on and off the market, concern grew about the four-bedroom, four-bathroom residence with its expansive, signature, traditional O'odham indigenous shade structure. Community members feared the house could be in danger of alteration beyond recognition or demolition, or that its multi-acre lot could be divided and developed, thus compromising the physical integrity and soul of the site.

A group of concerned neighbours in the Catalina Foothills devised a plan. They formed a consortium to buy the architectural gem, making this entity only the third owner in the property’s history. The intent was eventually to sell to another preservation-minded owner who would rightfully steward the landmark that’s listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Enter a key member of this group: designer and gallerist Casey W Smith.

Smith, who grew up in Tucson and divides his time between southern Arizona and New York City, was eager to join the effort to 'ensure this local icon is safe. There are not many pieces of architecture in Tucson that so boldly display what makes them unique,' he explains. And yet tastes and lifestyles have evolved since the 1970s, meaning 'changes needed to be made'. He then began a ten-month renovation process to sensitively update the house and surrounding land.

The mortar-washed slump-block building is related and yet distinct from Chafee’s other Arizona dwellings that followed her return home in 1969 after graduating from Yale School of Architecture and working for Paul Rudolph, Edward Larrabee Barnes, and Eero Saarinen. (Robert AM Stern endorsed clients Jane and Peter Salomon’s choice of Chafee.) This house in particular has 'a presence that feels both inevitable and revolutionary', Christopher Domin and Kathryn McGuire write in Powerhouse: The Life and Work of Judith Chafee.

Smith’s design process included researching Chafee’s archives held at the University of Arizona. While the climate demands of the desert drove much of her aesthetic and spatial programming, he found new ways to 'open things up and allow light to filter through. It’s a house that’s about ceremony, and the majesty of the light and the way the shadows move.'

Original features, such as what Smith describes as 'dusty oxblood' concrete-tile floors and doors, were repaired and restored, along with pronounced lintels and exposed timber posts indoors and out. Custom-milled pine-plank flooring based on existing materials in the upstairs bedrooms has replaced the ill-conceived carpeting on the main stairwell.

Other components of the refreshed palette reference Chafee’s ethos, rooted in her connection to the Sonoran Desert and the house’s 1970s sensibility. Smith selected a dark, earthy granite with a satin finish for the kitchen backsplash and countertops, with contemporary cabinetry that complements the original vertical grain Douglas fir.

The primary bathroom is clad in matte tadelakt plaster to keep the space 'as pure as possible'. Ancillary rooms located off the pool deck have been adapted into an additional guest suite. Smith also edited the landscaping on the protected parcel that has been reorganised from over eight acres to six.

With the renovation complete, Smith’s judiciously spare curation of art and decor is another testament to Chafee’s beloved status among a younger generation. At the moment, the house’s spaces function as a showcase of simpatico regional talents in multiple media. In addition to borrowing pieces from his own collections, Smith turned to his circle of art- and design-focused desert creatives in Tucson and beyond, including architect Axel Golden, Ingrain Objects, Zakaria Boucetta of Atelier BoPA, DUST Architects, New Mexico-based textile artist Rhiannon Griego, and Gino Belassen of Belhaus gallery in Phoenix. A large ‘Soleri’ bell, originally from Cosanti, that spent its previous tenure at Amangiri, hangs from the character-defining ramada shelter itself, as if anointing the home’s new era.

'I’m honoured to have had the latitude to do what I felt was needed,' Smith says. 'I keep finding myself popping over there at different hours to watch the sun, to be on the roof for sunset, to be there in the early mornings for sunrise, and experience how light moves throughout the house.' Despite this allure that Smith may never quite shake, it’s time for the next custodian to develop their own reverence for the Ramada House.

2801 E Camino Norberto, Tucson AZ 85718

thaliakyriakis.com

If brutalism feels omnipresent in the creative realm today, this hasn’t been historically the case. First appearing in the second half of the 20th century, brutalism can best be understood as part of a broader late-modernist shift, rather than a genre in isolation.

Brutalism and it's meaning, past and present

It extended modernism and modernist architecture’s belief in progress and social purpose, but replaced lightness and refinement with weight, density and directness. In doing so, it reflected the pressures of post-war reconstruction and the need to build quickly, honestly and at scale. It also challenged the status quo through its boldness, often defined by monolithic forms and exposed concrete, and has been subsequently criticised for its raw, ‘cold’ appearance.

The origins of brutalism

Brutalist architecture owes its current appeal to the late noughties and early 2010s, when a series of academic books – such as Owen Hatherley’s book Militant Modernism (2009) – exhibitions (the ‘Le Corbusier: The Art of Architecture’ show at the Barbican Gallery, the same year) and TV programmes marked a renewed interest in post-war modernist architecture, prompting its reassessment. As a result, buildings once dismissed as outdated or oppressive were steadily re-evaluated as culturally significant.

From the Barbican in London and Park Hill in Sheffield, to Berlin’s Hansaviertel and Karl-Marx-Allee, many post-war projects have gained recognition not only for their architectural ambition, but for what they reveal about the social ideals of their time. This was formalised through heritage listings: in 2008, several modernist housing estates in Berlin were designated Unesco World Heritage Sites, followed in 2016 by the inclusion of a group of Le Corbusier’s works. It all signalled a broader shift in how brutalist and late-modernist architecture was perceived and reconsidered in relation to the circumstances in which it was built – a period shaped by reconstruction, housing shortages and a belief in collective provision.

Alongside this critical reappraisal, a parallel strand of publishing and online culture began to emerge. A growing number of books and image-led platforms presented brutalist architecture through highly stylised photography, often detached from its social or historical context. Concrete became a visual shorthand: graphic, monumental and abstracted from everyday use. As these images circulated more widely – aided by the advent of Tumblr, Flickr and later Instagram – brutalism increasingly came to be understood through appearance rather than purpose.

A new audience

This shift coincided with the emergence of a new audience. Many encountering brutalist buildings today have no direct experience of their construction or early reception. They discover them instead as fashionable images, free from the political tensions, maintenance issues and social debates that had shaped their early lives. In this context, the architecture could be read afresh – not as a social experiment, but as a coherent and compelling architectural language.

A contradiction was also revealed. Admiration for brutalism grew, but often in abstract terms and without a clear understanding of its meaning. Part of this confusion lies in the word itself. Brutalism is often assumed to refer to severity or aggression, when in fact it derives from the French béton brut – meaning raw concrete. In the years following the Second World War, exposed concrete was a practical and economical solution, and also an ethical one: a refusal to disguise structure or material. Architecture was expected to be clear, direct and legible.

Le Corbusier’s Unité d’Habitation (1952) in Marseille remains the most cited example of this approach. Yet even here, representation played a significant role in shaping perception. The photographer Lucien Hervé, who worked closely with Le Corbusier, produced images that emphasised geometry, contrast and abstraction. These photographs helped define how brutalism was seen, often separating the buildings from their social context and everyday use, and frequently excluding people.

Brutalism in Britain, and beyond

In Britain, brutalism developed its own character. Architects such as Alison and Peter Smithson rejected the softer humanism of Scandinavian modernism prevalent in the 1950s, in favour of what they described as the ‘new brutalism’ – an approach grounded in honesty, legibility and social intent. Their Hunstanton School (1954), often cited as Britain’s first example of new brutalism building, contains no concrete at all. Instead, its exposed steel frame and visible services reflect a commitment to clarity. Another early example is Grade II*-listed Langham House Close in Ham, near Richmond, by James Stirling and James Gowan, built in load-bearing brickwork, exposed concrete and timber. This small development, designed for middle-income families between 1958 and 1960, features three low-rise blocks arranged around a courtyard.

Elsewhere, brutalism took on different forms depending on local conditions. The Barbican in London (1965-1982) by Chamberlin, Powell and Bon combined housing, culture and infrastructure within a vast, concrete ensemble with elevated walkways asserting a powerful and self-contained urban form. In Switzerland, Atelier 5’s Siedlung Halen explored dense, low-rise living within a shared landscape surrounded by a forest. In the United States, architects such as Marcel Breuer and Paul Rudolph developed a more monumental expression of brutalism, using concrete to convey institutional authority, as seen in the former Whitney Museum and Yale’s Art and Architecture Building.

Brutalism misunderstood

This emerging understanding of brutalism was shaped in part by the critic and historian Reyner Banham, who played a key role in defining it as a coherent tendency rather than a loose collection of buildings. In his writings of the 1950s and 1960s, Banham described it not as a style but as an ethic. Yet in attempting to clarify the term, he also helped fix it within architectural discourse, contributing to the ambiguity that persists today between brutalism as a moral position and brutalism as an aesthetic category.

Brutalism, at its core, was concerned with how people live together, and with the responsibilities of building at scale. That ambition is often lost in contemporary uses of the term, where ‘brutalist’ is applied loosely to anything heavy, minimal or severe, its meaning reduced to a set of visual cues and the reverence for concrete or form. The renewed popularity of brutalism has intensified in recent years through cultural moments such as the release of the film The Brutalist in late 2024. It has returned the term to common use, extending it beyond architectural circles to a broader audience, but not always with greater clarity.

The future of brutalism

The fate of Robin Hood Gardens in east London illustrates this clearly. Designed by the Smithsons as a model of post-war social housing, the estate was widely praised by architects and historians, yet ultimately demolished in 2017. Its destruction exposed the limits of aesthetic appreciation when it is not matched by sustained public or political commitment. The challenge now is not whether brutalism should be admired, but whether its underlying values can be taken seriously again, so it does not risk being valued only superficially. Until architecture is once more allowed to prioritise collective purpose over surface appeal, brutalism will remain misunderstood – celebrated in images, yet stripped of the social conviction that once gave it meaning.

stefiorazi.co.uk

modernistestates.com

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

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 February 2026.

A leafy Hampstead home

A timber-clad extension in Hampstead, London, immerses a family in nature, fully opening onto a lush garden to create a flexible indoor-outdoor living space. The architect, Mata, worked carefully around mature trees, collaborating with arboriculturists to protect roots while extending the home’s ground floor. Glazed walls, tapered stainless-steel undersides and bespoke furniture blur the boundary between interior and exterior, while thoughtfully-crafted terraces and furnishings ensure functionality without compromising the natural setting.

Read about it here.

A minimalist Spanish house

In Gijón, Asturias, Casa Guadalupe by Hanghar blends minimalist aesthetics with prefabricated industrial methods. Its lightweight steel frame and modular panels allowed rapid assembly – in just 48 hours – on stilts, reducing site disruption and preserving the landscape. The house follows the terrain, opening to panoramic rural vistas while maintaining a restrained, methodical architectural language. The project demonstrates a flexible, sustainable approach to 21st-century housing, balancing precision, spatial quality and landscape connection while challenging conventional ideas about prefab homes.

Read about it here.

An Australian architect’s home

Stephen Collier’s home in Scarborough, south of Sydney, sits on a triangular plot near a railway, organised around a central courtyard. Constructed from steel framing, fibrocement walls and tiled floors, it features movable furniture and joinery that allow spaces to be reshaped according to season or activity. The courtyard, open or enclosed, includes a Teppanyaki stove and Japanese-style bath, connecting indoor living to nature. Elevated on concrete columns with operable hatches, the house is responsive to its bush setting and local climate. Designed over 21 years, it balances privacy, playfulness and immersion in the environment.

Read about it here.

An immersive Nova Scotia residence

Perched on steel stilts between rocky inclines, Omar Gandhi’s East River Residence in Nova Scotia embraces its rugged coastal surroundings. The linear structure frames views of the Atlantic Ocean and surrounding forest, while cedar and metal cladding complement open-plan living, yoga spaces and cosy timbered bedrooms. Expansive windows connect interiors to terraces and patios, fostering a strong sense of connection to the outdoors. This is enhanced by the way that the building follows the site’s natural topography, touching only lightly on the land.

Read about it here.

An icon of British modernism

This month, Six Pillars, a Grade II*-listed home in Dulwich designed by Valentine Harding with Tecton in 1932-34 and restored by John Winter in 2000, came on the market. This classic example of British modernism spans 3,500 sq ft over three storeys, and retains original features such as chevron parquet flooring, steel-framed windows and an art deco fireplace. The angled plan creates fluid living spaces including an open-plan kitchen, principal living room, four bedrooms and a rooftop retreat, while the minimalist façade, clerestory windows and six cylindrical pillars define its iconic profile.

Read about it here.

A modern Utrecht house

In Utrecht, a 1992 house by Mart van Schijndel reimagines elements of a former glass warehouse in bold modernist terms. Awarded the Rietveld Prize and now a municipal monument, the home features a lavender-and-grey plaster façade, two trapezoidal patios and folded plywood furniture designed by the architect. Light floods the open living areas, blurring indoors and outdoors, while a mezzanine suite offers a tranquil escape. The house reflects van Schijndel’s innovative vision and Dutch modernist traditions, and is now awaiting a new custodian.

Read about it here.

A green retreat in Paraguay

‘A Forest in the House’, designed by Equipo de Arquitectura in 2025 on Ypacarai Lake, Paraguay, is a 260 sq m indoor-outdoor retreat inspired by jazz. Three pavilions surround a fenced garden, connected by patios, with the main house containing kitchen, dining and living areas. Floor-to-ceiling glass doors integrate the lush landscape, while concrete floors and roofs create terraces and continuity. Trees are incorporated as design elements, and natural light and wind animate the spaces, resulting in a fluid, playful environment existing in perfect harmony with its tropical surroundings.

Read about it here.

An architect-designed Paris apartment

In Paris’s 11th arrondissement, Cyrus Ardalan renovated a 65 sq m apartment into a minimalist, industrial-leaning home. West-facing light fills an open-plan living area that combines lounge, dining and office zones, connected to a glass-paste kitchen. Two courtyard-facing bedrooms, a shower room and integrated storage maintain the home’s clean lines, while custom plywood furniture and a pivot door conceal or reveal the workspace. The apartment reflects Ardalan’s blend of modernist minimalism, functional architecture and craft-inspired materiality.

Read about it here.

Tradition meets modernity in Ukraine

The Reed Roof Guesthouses in central Ukraine, designed by YOD Group, reinterpret traditional hata-mazanka huts in a contemporary, minimalist style. Each self-contained unit features curved glass facades, tall thatched roofs and concrete cores, creating airy, light-filled spaces, while heat pumps and air conditioning ensure year-round comfort. Inside, organic furniture and tactile carpets connect residents to the surrounding landscape, creating a serene, sensory experience.

Read about it here.

An LA gem on the market

Ray Kappe’s Kappe House (1967) in Pacific Palisades, LA, spans 4,157 sq ft over seven levels on a sloping Rustic Canyon site. Interlocking redwood beams, vertical concrete supports and vast frameless glazing define the midcentury modern home, which includes a double-height living room, glass-walled office, built-in timber furniture, lap pool with spa, sauna, and multiple terraces. The house, which was once described as ‘the greatest house in Southern California’ by the LA Times, was owned by the Kappe family until 2025 and has been listed for $11.5 million.

Read about it here.

Travelling to filming locations, or ‘set-jetting’, is arguably one of this year’s hottest travel trends. Screenings and streaming are no longer enough on their own; we want to experience blockbusters, classics and cult favourites in real life.

From Cwmmau Farmhouse, a National Trust holiday let featured as the childhood home of Shakespeare’s wife, Agnes, in Chloé Zhao’s Hamnet (2025), to Park Hyatt Tokyo, forever immortalised by Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation (2003), there is no shortage of options.

Ahead of the curve is vacation rental giant Airbnb, which recently unveiled a Wuthering Heights overnight experience in Yorkshire, faithfully recreating Cathy’s bedroom. It follows a series of high-profile collaborations over the last few years, including 2023’s Barbie’s Malibu DreamHouse and 2024’s Prince’s Purple Rain-inspired stay in Minneapolis.

How to book Barlochan Cottage in Muskoka, Canada

Now, it is the modernist cottage featured in hit TV show Heated Rivalry that is sending fans into a frenzy. ‘I think you’re going to like the cottage. It’s relaxing,’ says Shane Hollander to Ilya Rozanov – the two professional hockey players who maintain a secret, long-term relationship while playing for rival teams. It is here that their relationship is consummated.

Barlochan Cottage was designed by Toronto-based architect Trevor McIvor in 2020, when the private owner commissioned ‘a four-season cottage that intimately co-exists with its surrounding Muskoka landscape’. Situated approximately a two-hour drive from Toronto Pearson Airport and within close proximity to the scenic towns of Gravenhurst and Bala, the property is a prefabricated Douglas fir structure anchored by a cosy central granite fireplace.

‘The design strived to seamlessly integrate structural columns, beams and windows, allowing an extraordinarily light roof to float and fold like waves above the glazed structure,’ notes McIvor in the project’s design statement. Inside, floor-to-ceiling windows draw in abundant light, while the breeze from Lake Muskoka drifts through the space.

The surrounding Canadian Shield topography informs the snug interiors, which take on a distinctive tone and texture through charring using the traditional Japanese technique of ‘Yakisugi’.

The 2,500 sq ft cottage comprises three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a fully equipped kitchen, a home gym, and almost 400 ft of private waterfront, equipped with three kayaks, two canoes and a fire pit. Before it joins Airbnb’s Luxe category, four early-access bookings will be released, taking place over four weekends in May.

Guests will be able to book one of these four stays from 3 March at 12pm ET (5pm GMT), priced at $248.10 CAD per night – a nod to Hollander’s and Rozanov’s jersey numbers, 24 and 81, in the show.

To book, visit airbnb.com

Ever wondered what's at the heart of desert modernism? Perhaps, Frank Lloyd Wright defined it best:

'A desert building should be nobly simple in outline as the region itself is sculptured [...], the manmade building heightening the beauty of the desert and the desert more beautiful because of the building,' the modernist architecture master said in the May 1940 issue of Arizona Highways magazine.

Wright’s trenchant yet florid observations suggest the powerful urgency of desert architecture – combining shelter and openness, materials that stem from their land and modern forms, a highly tailored architecture rubbing shoulders with the raw power of nature.

What is desert modernism?

Any building for harsh, extreme environments must address harnessing climatic conditions in the service of human comfort. Earthen-based materials and indigenous building traditions come into play, revealing time-honoured ingenuity developed over millennia. Then, in the twentieth century, unadorned forms shaped by the broader sweep of modernism were responses to new tools and technical innovations that met the cultural moment then, and continue to do so today - impacting design in arid environments too.

Key characteristics of desert modernism

Desert modernism isn’t a monolith (and naturally, examples abound in many other countries), and yet hallmarks emerged from the architecture community's earliest experiments in the 1920s through the cities and suburbs that bloomed throughout the American Southwest in the mid-late 1940s through the 1960s. Designers and developers looked to readily available, industrially produced building components as well as earthen elements – sometimes culled from the site itself – that, when combined with skilful architectural moves, established templates for seamless indoor/outdoor living.

Roofs with generous eaves intended to provide shade were generally flat or gently sloped, given the general absence of rain. Hardscaping and plant choices reflected the surrounding native vegetation. Despite the advent of air conditioning, the most thoughtful iterations of this genre would continue to sensitively manage the realities of desert climates, such as harsh west-facing exposures, through passive measures in shading and ventilation - for example, using breeze-blocks.

Desert modernism in the US: a brief history

Up until the Second World War, the American Southwest’s deeply hybridised cultural and social milieu was largely evident in its formal and vernacular architecture. The romanticised Spanish Colonial Revival style borrowed references from Spain and neighbouring Mexico, with localised architectural dialects emerging throughout the border states of California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas. Pueblo Revival architecture and adobe structures mimicked Native American architectural heritage, particularly in New Mexico. From today’s perspective, however, such places can carry an allure of authenticity that in some cases might be more rooted in complicated myth than historical fact.

Certain zero-humidity hamlets sparsely populated by non-natives, notably Palm Springs, attracted those seeking relief from respiratory ailments. Nellie Coffman’s The Desert Inn in Palm Springs eventually grew from a tent-like sanitarium opened in 1909 to a 35-acre, gracious, full-service getaway popular with the Southern California glitterati. Resorts such as the Frank Lloyd Wright, Jr.-designed Oasis Hotel and El Mirador Hotel followed. What had been a nascent wellness industry that valued seclusion and ample space planted the seeds of the town’s hospitality and leisure boom where modernism would thrive.

Early residential examples and proponents

Rudolph Schindler’s Popenoe Cabin, built in 1922 at the eastern edge of the Coachella Valley in Indio, California, is generally regarded as the first modern effort in the Southern California region that’s become most closely associated with the movement. The modest wood frame and concrete structure, which regretfully has been demolished, shares a generally overlapping timeframe and characteristics with the architect’s own radical home and studio in West Hollywood.

The desert became a muse to leading practitioners of the early and mid-twentieth century who ventured westward. Frank Lloyd Wright, Bruce Goff, Rudolph Schindler, Richard Neutra, and John Lautner were emigres or Midwestern transplants who embraced experimentation in uninterrupted spatial expanse. In 1937, Grace Lewis Miller commissioned Neutra for a winter home and studio to support her Mensendieck System of Functional Exercises teaching practice. The compact structure sat lightly on the land, complete with a reflecting pool that touched what was then an unsullied Sonoran Desert vista.

Nearly a decade later, the more ambitious Edgar J. Kaufmann House by Neutra rose from its large, sandy lot. Its interplay of flat roofs, a second-level open 'gloriette,' floor-to-ceiling plate glass, sandstone, crimped sheet-metal fascia, and seductive poolside outdoor lounge was built for the Pittsburgh department store magnate who had famously commissioned Fallingwater from Wright. Julius Shulman’s 1947 photograph and Slim Aarons’ evocative 'Poolside Gossip' image taken in 1970 helped broadcast the home and modern desert lifestyle to the world. This language proved adaptable to being both practical and deluxe.

Architects John Porter Clark and Le Corbusier disciple Albert Frey committed themselves to an intensive consideration of how to design and build for the desert when, in 1935, they established their business partnership that for nearly two decades shaped the Palm Springs area.

Prolific practitioners such as E. Stewart Williams, William E. Cody, Donald Wexler, William Krisel, and Dan Palmer continued to experiment with low-slung residences –often with open plans and always with a strong indoor-outdoor connection - at various price points – in the Coachella Valley, using a palette of concrete, steel, and glass.

Aspirational prototypes evolved into replicable models at a larger scale. The 1950s saw the growth of suburban tract developments in settings with inexpensive land that promised the winter-chill-free good life, complete with the latest in technological creature comforts, such as air-conditioning. An ethos that advanced modernism’s democratic leanings was embedded in the residential and commercial work of architects such as Al Beadle and Ralph Haver in Phoenix, Arizona, and throughout the built environment of that ultimate human playground: Las Vegas.

Planned neighbourhoods dotted with post-and-beam dwellings, including Marlen Grove in Phoenix (1952), Paradise Palms in Las Vegas (1960), and the Alexander Construction Co.’s multiple communities in the Coachella Valley, offered accessible templates of conventional American family life rather than a taste of the architectural avant-garde (more, relatively luxurious developments were centred around golfing and cocktail-abetted socialising). Details such as butterfly roofs and folded plates conveyed post-war optimism, and elements, including concrete brise soleil or breeze blocks, added pattern, depth, and playfulness.

The case of the desert utopias

Seekers in search of spiritual enlightenment and higher purpose - architects included, either directly for their own pursuits or in the service of clients - have also found themselves in the great arid vastness. Frank Lloyd Wright passed on the opportunity to design the Institute of Mentalphysics for Rev. Edwin John Dingle, known as Ding Le Mei, on a sprawling site near Joshua Tree Park acquired in 1941. Instead, his son, the aforementioned Lloyd Wright, accepted the task of creating multiple buildings on the still-extant (yet not completed as originally envisioned) colony, incorporating rocks and materials from the land itself and principles of sacred geometry to support the organisation’s mission.

'Organic architecture is distinguished from the facade-making which passes for modern architecture today, as you can see in our home, Taliesin West,' Frank Lloyd Wright wrote in 1953 about the learn-by-doing, apprentice-powered campus he began in 1937 that brought his Taliesin Fellowship from Wisconsin to Scottsdale, Arizona. Wright and team then kept busy in the desert. The concrete block 1950 David and Gladys Wright House, built for his son and daughter-in-law, featured a spiralling ramp that was a subtle preview of the Guggenheim Museum, and the dramatic ASU Gammage auditorium debuted in 1964.

Taliesin West lured an ambitious Italian architect, Paolo Soleri, who in 1970 created his Arcosanti 'arcology' laboratory (a portmanteau for 'architecture' and 'ecology') in Mayer, Arizona. The otherworldly compound remains a preferred off-duty working vacation for architects who participate in the sustainable community’s hands-on workshops (it should be said that Soleri’s daughter accused him of sexual abuse).

Desert modernism's commercial appeal

Modernist aesthetics and twentieth-century capitalism were compatible endeavours, with overlapping interests of efficiency and scale. Automobile-centric retail and commercial strips like Tucson’s Sunshine Mile emerged with ample parking and attention-grabbing neon signage to boot.

Despite the general inclination towards minimal ornamentation, designers distinguished work in inventive ways. Rudi Baumfeld of Victor Gruen and Associates seized the opportunity for expressive flourishes with the swooping roof line that’s a nod to Le Corbusier’s chapel in Ronchamp, France, at the blue mosaic tile-clad 1959 City National Bank (now a Bank of America branch) on South Palm Canyon Drive.

The future of desert modernism

Architects and builders have amassed enough information at this point in history to design boldly, beautifully, and carefully. Even if desert denizens are used to scorching temperatures and parched surfaces, rising global temperatures, increasingly fragile ecosystems, and threatened plant and animal species require a heightened sensitivity to environmental impacts and effective heat mitigation moves.

Architects, including Cade Hayes and Jesús Edmundo Robles, Jr. of D U S T, Lake Flato, Jorge Gracia, Benjamin Hall, Marmol Radziner, Sean Lockyer, and Lance O’Donnell - among several others - demonstrate how continually evolving contemporary design sensibilities that value context while embracing both proven ancient and innovative construction methods can yield transcendently beautiful outcomes.

11 key examples of desert modernism

Taliesin West

Who: Frank Lloyd Wright (1937-)

Where: Scottsdale, Arizona

Frank Lloyd Wright’s winter home, workshop, and architecture school has been the site of astounding creativity (and scandal-making drama) since he broke ground and the Fellowship began its work in 1937.

The Institute of Mentalphysics/Joshua Tree Retreat Center

Who: Lloyd Wright (1940s)

Where: Yucca Valley, California

Perhaps no place other than the Institute of Mentalphysics (or the Joshua Tree Retreat Center) better exemplifies California’s history of movements tied to alternative spirituality, what we now call health and wellness, self-reinvention, and the architecture that supported it. The 1940s campus, listed on the National Register of Historic Places, is the largest concentration of buildings by Frank Lloyd Wright, Jr., AKA Lloyd Wright, and features structures by other architects such as Harold Zook.

Lautner Compound

Who: John Lautner (1947)

Where: Desert Hot Springs, California

John Lautner’s complex composed of four contiguous yet internally differentiated units is now available for overnight stays and special events. Lautner’s work eventually became more ambitious with clients who had grander visions and bigger bank accounts. Look no further than the concrete and glass wizardly at the Arthur Elrod House, built in 1968 for Palm Springs’ most famous interior decorator and featured in the 1971 James Bond film Diamonds Are Forever, and the Bob and Dolores Hope House from the late 1970s.

Racquet Club Estates

Who: Palmer & Krisel, Donald Wexler et al. for the Alexander Construction Co. (1960s)

Where: Palm Springs, California

Planned communities like Racquet Club Estates developed by the Alexander Construction Co. represented midcentury aspirations of modern American lifestyles and middle-class leisure.

Frey House II

Who: Albert Frey (1964)

Where: Palm Springs, California

A few decades into his career, Swiss-born Albert Frey confidently used his signature gestures and materials to fashion a home nestled among the boulders and rock outcroppings on a perch above Palm Springs.

Arcosanti

Who: Paolo Soleri (1970-)

Where: Mayer, Arizona

Experimental and experiential living and learning continue at Paolo Soleri’s Arcosanti.

Jacobson House (1975-77)

Who: Judith Chafee

Where: Tucson, Arizona

Judith Chafee returned to her native Tucson after graduating as the sole woman in her Yale School of Architecture class in 1960, and working in the studios of Paul Rudolph, Edward Larabee Barnes, and Eero Saarinen. Far from her profession’s geographic power and prestige base in the Northeast, she synthesised local precedents with her formal training steeped in post-war theory and practice. The result? Singular interpretations of Southwestern residential modernism over the course of Chafee’s under-heralded career.

La Luz del Oeste

Who: Antoine Predock (1967)

Where: Albuquerque, New Mexico

Despite or perhaps because of Antoine Predock’s inclination to engage with polemics related to his region, the Albuquerque-based architect literally designed the 1994 Disney version of a Santa Fe-inspired hotel for the Paris park. The multifamily La Luz del Oeste community reiterates how and why the desert is conducive to questions of context-appropriateness and stylistic idiosyncrasies that resist easy categorisation.

Amangiri

Who: Marwan Al-Sayed/Masastudio, Wendell Burnette and Rick Joy (2009)

Where: Canyon Point, Utah

Desert brutalism arises like an ancient monument from red earth, and here, also, as a coveted ultra-luxury resort in remote southern Utah.

Tucson Mountain Retreat

Who: D U S T Architects (2012)

Where: Tucson, AZ

Tucson-based D U S T Architects homes are meditation and poetry in built form, often constructed out of rammed earth and using hand-built techniques that sit in harmony with sites in Arizona, New Mexico, and West Texas.

Marfa Ranch

Who: Lake Flato (2021)

Where: Marfa, Texas

Lake Flato deftly integrates the colour and material palette of the surrounding Chihuahuan Desert into this house using rammed earth situated on the vast West Texas prairie.

IT House

Who: Taalman Architecture (2008)

Where: Joshua Tree, California

A prototype of off-grid living, IT House was designed by Taalman Architecture studio in the early 2000s to be modular and prefabricated, addressing issues around sustainability and environmental impact.

American architect John Lautner designed over 200 architecture projects during his career, which began in the 1930s with an apprenticeship with Frank Lloyd Wright. He then started his own firm in Los Angeles in 1938.

Most of John Lautner's work was realised in California, including the development of his famous Googie-style coffee shops in the late 1950s and early 1960s, Garcia House, and perhaps, his most famous home, the Sheats-Goldstein Residence in the hills of Los Angeles. It is also in LA that local firm Conner + Perry Architects was recently tasked to restore and remodel one of the late architect’s masterpieces from the early 1980s, ‘Lautner's Castle’.

Step inside Lautner’s Castle with us

Positioned along the topography of a steep hillside, the home features an array of cylindrical stone turrets along the south face. These are both structural and architectural, illustrating Lautner's philosophy, which emphasises natural materials, blending stone, steel, glass, and wood, and a harmonious relationship with the landscape.

With extensive experience working on Lautner properties, including the Sheats-Goldstein residence, Conner + Perry Architects started on the Lautner's Castle restoration project in 2019. Principals Kristopher Conner and James Perry were entrusted to make modern enhancements that would not disturb the original modernist architecture, while also meeting the needs of a 21st-century family lifestyle.

The home unfolds with a wide curving hallway and a ribbed wooden ceiling that spans the entire upper floor. Just outside the front-facing windows, copper elements on top of the beams replaced the white painted metal that will age more congruently with the house.

In the living area, a dramatic linear LED wood structure of single-ply wood-veneer fins hangs from the ceiling over the dining table, theatrically illuminating the exposed timber ceilings. ‘I conceived of it as a dragon for Lautner's Castle,’ says Conner. ‘The house has a nautical feel. The roof structure, to me, feels like the hull of a ship turned upside down. We actually replaced the entire roof, so when we ripped it off, you could really see the details. This thing was built like a ship with these diagonal boards, creating a unitised structure.’

The team also brought in chrome eyeball lights to enhance a sense of direction in the entryway. These cast a light on the Douglas fir wood panels, which were completely stripped and refinished in the majority of the house.

In the living room, a custom cream sofa designed by the architects morphs from a daybed to a formal sitting area. Its supports were made with glulam Douglas fir (same as the house beams), and the integrated table at its heart is fabricated from solid slabs, taking inspiration from the house, its materials and geometries.

One of the most fascinating architectural features is that each of the cylindrical stone columns hosts a programmatic element. One in the living room contains a functioning wet bar, while the kitchen one is a built-in pantry. These pillars also help frame the city and canyon views that unfold beyond the exterior balcony that runs the length of the property; and you might just spot a herd of deer sauntering around the hillside.

‘What’s interesting about this house,’ says Conner, ‘is that in most of Lautner's houses, where there's a view, the architecture really opens up to the view in a very dramatic way. But here, I think there is much more of an interior focus on the house. The skyline views get framed in these spaces between the stone [cylinders]. The drama is the two terraced balconies. He takes those lessons from Frank Lloyd Wright about compression and expansion, and increasing the drama.’

Expansive windows offer natural light and frame the lush green surroundings. The skilful use of warm woods and stone flooring continues to the exterior (where it was refurbished), further blurring the lines between indoors and outdoors, in the spirit of Lautner’s philosophy and approach.

The kitchen was actually renovated by Conner and Perry’s previous mentor, and a Lautner associate, Duncan Nicholson, around 2013, so this area stayed pretty much true to the original, including the island constructed out of a stone slab with an edged treatment.

There was no hood for the [stove] range, but the architectural duo added discreet slots in the ceiling and a commercial vent fan on the roof. ‘This is telling of our approach to the restoration of the house; everything was, where possible, just a minimal intervention, trying to preserve the architecture as much as [we could],’ says Conner.

On the first-floor interior, among a host of interventions by Conner and Perry, the library transitions into a media room (featuring a hidden state-of-the-art A/V system, a projection screen and integrated audio), a custom-built-in sofa, and shelving that supports the room's functionality. The chevron wood flooring was replaced ‘like for like’ according to Conner.

In the primary suite, the original sunken tatami mats were replaced with a custom platform bed with integrated nightstands, and wall sconces that blend into the vertical-grain wall panelling with Lutron lighting. In addition, an original small office off the hallway was converted into a second walk-in closet featuring a rotating clothes rack.


The bathtub in the primary bathroom with its canyon view was completely revamped, replacing an old fibreglass jacuzzi with a new custom Corian soaking tub, a hardwood tub deck and hardware from Vola, along with a privacy shade.

A water closet, adjacent to the already showstopping stone-cylinder primary shower with its dramatic circular skylight that frames the clouds, was refurbished and a new skylight was added. At the vanity corner, a custom-carved double-bowled vessel sink was installed after it was carved out of a boulder by Stoneland, USA, in the valley. Its rare size meant it took a year to procure.

Throughout the home, the original bathroom tiles were maintained, including in the powder rooms, where skylights were added. Here, lighted fixtures were updated to modern LEDs that are colour-adapting, so you can simulate different types of daylight. A dedicated make-up station was added to the primary bathroom area.

A restored spiral staircase is covered in an updated version of the original Italian red wool carpet and leads down a lower level where three more bedrooms and a bonus guest-game room are. The original second-level bedrooms were lacking in light, so Conner and Perry transformed the old guest bedroom by placing larger windows in the corner looking out onto the surrounding garden and incorporating intricate millwork, such as the built-in headboard with drawers, floating shelves, and a wardrobe.

‘We expanded this window all the way down to the floor, so you could see so much lush greenery, and then the views,’ says Conner. Outside this guest room is a hybrid piece of furniture serving as both a deck and a bench. ‘It's really just about creating that intimate relationship with the garden here.’

A jack-and-jill set of two bedrooms and a bathroom is now joined by the game-guest room. Frosted glass doors bring in more natural light. The original concrete floors were redone with concrete micro-topping product in keeping with the Lautner philosophy of trying to blur inside and outside in a cohesive manner.

On the exterior, Conner and Perry extended the architecture into the landscape, providing little pockets or vignettes to spend more quality time outside, including a dining table and concrete bench, an outdoor kitchen with a barbecue grill. An old storage closet was converted into a cabana bathroom with a nearby outdoor shower.

Working with the pool’s original structural engineering, the noted Lautner collaborator Andrew Nasser, Conner and Perry carved out an expansive deck beneath the pool – an area that was previously inaccessible. This becomes a third level for the home, cantilevering out of the hillside. Here, you will find a wooden infinity deck featuring a stone fire pit, a long built-in concrete bench, and custom lounge chairs by Conner + Perry Architects. ‘All of this used to be a barren dirt hillside,’ adds Conner.

Providing both shelter and dramatic canyon views, the space offers a unique perspective of the underside of Lautner's bold cantilevering structure. ‘We were very careful not to have a guard rail. We added these planters and this little hiking trail that loops back around the property.’

The exterior landscaping outside was previously sparse. It is now lush with a cactus garden at the front and a hillside at the rear. The latter splits off into walkways flanked by a mix of native plants and a pop of Bougainvillaea for colour. ‘We've spent years developing this. Now, there are almost these little microclimates and a fern grove where it's shady,’ says Conner.

In the end, one of the biggest challenges for the architects was navigating the generous landscape element in this project without detracting from the original architecture. As in all of Lautner’s most significant works, a key concern was the relationships between human being and space, space and nature, and that enduring ethos has been well preserved at Lautner's Castle.

conner-perry.com

As a child growing up in São Paulo, Brazil during the 1970s and 1980s, interior designer Andre Mellone was surrounded by beautiful things. His father, Oswaldo, was a noted Brazilian industrial designer and, soon enough, the younger Mellone developed his own passion for creating expressive spaces — first as an architect, then as principal of the New York-based practice, Studio Mellone.

Since establishing the firm 14 years ago, Mellone has racked up an impressive client list, all drawn to his effortless mixture of midcentury and contemporary, including Lauren Santo Domingo, fashion brands like the Row and even Rockefeller Center. Still, despite having designed plenty of bespoke pieces, Mellone had never launched a product line. ‘I’d been thinking about doing a product for a long time, but I’ve been so careful about when to do it, how to do it and who to do it with,’ the designer tells Wallpaper*.

Then, one day, he got a call from Nordic Knots, a Stockholm-based rug company known for its design-conscious, high-quality collections. Would Mellone be interested in designing a collection with them? ‘It probably took me two seconds to say yes,’ he says.

‘I've been following Andre's work for such a long time. I love how confident Andre's interiors are,’ adds Nordic Knots co-founder Liza Laserow Berglund. ‘Andre just felt so right – it was pure logic.’

The result is a four-piece rug collection, which launched today in-store and on Nordic Knots’ website. While the collection is concise, each is the distillation of years-worth of Mellone’s ideas, ones that meld the vocabularies of Art Deco, Brazilian modernism and ‘70s and ‘80s design. ‘Ultimately, we were designing rugs that I wanted to use – I was designing rugs for myself,’ Mellone says.

There’s Pond, a plush rug made from New Zealand wool, which features concentric organic rings, to evoke the ripples on top of a body of water. Then there’s the warm, terra-cotta-hued Indore, inspired by the modernist palace of Yeshwant Rao Holkar II. The olive-hued Dots, carpet, with its soft variegated pile, feels plucked from either a vibrant Jazz Age or a sleek Brazilian pad.

‘I became kind of really interested in the process,’ Mellone explains. ‘Obviously you start designing rugs as a two-dimensional thing, but they’re actually 3D objects.’

The boldest design, Normandie, features a lively interplay of interlocking stripes. It was inspired by the SS Normandie, an opulent Art Deco ocean liner that first set sail in 1935. The ship was destroyed in a fire and broken for scrap in the 1940s, but its design has captivated Mellone. ‘I dream about it – I know every corner of that ship,’ he said.

One night, down a YouTube rabbit hole, Mellone discovered footage of a striped, plaid rug in one of the opulent rooms. ‘That then became the inspiration for this, so it was a little bit of an obsession that I finally made it into reality,’ he says.

The rugs are bold, but their colourways and patterns were designed to fit in with a variety of decor styles, whether anchoring a sparsely-furnished room as a bold gesture or layered with clusters of vintage furniture. Ultimately, it will be a way for consumers to bring a touch of Studio Mellone’s universe home with them.

‘When it comes to the design, we don't want to be involved, because why have we chosen to work with someone like Andre if we should dictate the way they look?’ Laserow Berglund explains. ‘That's how you create the best products: You create the world and then the product.’

Perched on the upper floors of a building in Paris’s 11th arrondissement, near Père Lachaise Cemetery, this 65-square-metre apartment is a perfect example of when architecture and design converge. Recently renovated by Cyrus Ardalan, the apartment bears a distinctly architectural imprint: block-like volumes with an industrial edge are tempered by modernist influences, expressed through an open, functional layout bathed in natural light from its west-facing exposure. It is now on the market with Architecture de Collection for €840,000.

The layout is structured yet fluid, with each zone clearly defined without interrupting the overall openness. The entrance opens onto a living area that seamlessly unites lounge, dining space and office, while the kitchen is delineated by a glass-paste frame – a feature echoed in the custom-designed island and dining table, creating a cohesive visual thread.

A corridor leads to two peaceful, courtyard-facing bedrooms, followed by a shower room and separate toilet. Bespoke built-in storage is integrated throughout, preserving the apartment’s clean lines and meticulous sense of order. Even a basement cellar is included – a practical bonus in Paris.

In keeping with the modernist spirit, material exploration is another defining aspect of the project. Plywood, a signature of Ardalan’s work, plays a central role. Its warm tone – inspired by the original window frames – creates continuity from the living area through the hallway to the bedrooms.

Ardalan’s custom furniture reads as a natural extension of the architecture. In the main space, a large plywood bookshelf becomes a defining gesture, extending into a sideboard and integrated workspace. Cleverly, a 180-degree pivot door allows this unit to either open the office fully to the living area or conceal it entirely when not in use, enabling the space to adapt.

Glass paste forms another element of the apartment’s identity, introducing texture and depth while highlighting volumes and integrating drawer fronts almost invisibly. Applied to the kitchen island, dining table and shower, it contributes to the apartment’s unified, sculptural quality.

Ardalan, who established his practice in 2020, approaches architecture as a total work of art. Drawing on vernacular construction methods, minimalist modernism – particularly the work of Jean Prouvé – and mechanical systems, he is undoubtedly one to watch.

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

Built in 1925 for James Eads How, the How House is one of Rudolph M Schindler’s most significant early works, now a designated Los Angeles Historic-Cultural Monument. The 2,400 sq ft residence exemplifies the architect’s pioneering approach to California modernism. When it changed hands nearly a century after its construction, interior designer Taska Cleveland undertook a careful revitalisation. ‘I focused on interventions that support contemporary life while protecting the integrity of Schindler’s architecture, allowing the house to evolve naturally without losing its original spirit,’ the designer told Wallpaper*. ‘Modern comfort was integrated quietly, allowing the original design to remain clear, legible and fully experienced.’

Step inside a replenished modernist icon

First, original redwood-panelled ceilings, walls, windows and doors were sanded to remove layers of stain, revealing the natural warmth of the wood. Concrete floors were restored and given a red hue inspired by architect John Lautner, reinforcing the house’s modernist lineage.

Cleveland furnished the home to create spaces that invite rest and contemplation – encouraging guests to recline and look upward at Schindler’s rhythmic interplay of wood, glass and concrete. Rather than merely replicating his modernist language, however, she asserted her own authorship, weaving together craftsmanship from different eras and cultures. The entryway sets the tone with a George Nakashima ottoman and a walnut floating console by Madera Build, topped with Japanese stoneware by Michio Koinuma and a Carl-Harry Stålhane dish. In the living room, a built-in sofa upholstered in BDDW green mohair sits beneath an Arien Valizadeh painting. Custom brown velvet lounge chairs face an angora goatskin rug and a bronze-and-zinc coffee table by Marcin Rusak, and a Hans Wegner chair pairs with a Mira Nakashima side table, reinforcing the dialogue between old and new.

A concrete double-sided fireplace connects the living and dining rooms, maintaining Schindler’s emphasis on spatial flow. Custom cherry wood built-in benches nestle beneath mitered glass windows, topped with sculptural objects including a Nepalese resho paper lamp by North Vernon and ceramics by Rando Aso. Above the living room, a mezzanine overlooks the treetops, and Loro Piana linen cushions echo the tones of the surrounding eucalyptus.

In the den, plaster walls inspired by Eric Lloyd Wright’s Anaïs Nin/Rupert Pole house complement the redwood and rust-coloured drapery. Furnishings include a nubuck leather sofa by Soot, a reupholstered Gerrit Rietveld chair and an angular coffee table by Pali Xisto Cornelsen. A custom brass wet bar and cherry wood storage, carefully scribed around the cement fireplace, add functionality while respecting the architecture.

The dining area features vintage Sergio Rodrigues chairs in brown suede surrounding a Joaquim Tenreiro table atop a Tuareg rug. A Jonathan Wateridge painting hangs above a custom wenge and slate console displaying an Arne Bang lamp and a Keita Matsunaga ceramic. In the kitchen, updates include cherry and painted cabinetry with Schindler-style pulls, lava stone countertops and a reflective stainless steel backsplash.

Upstairs and on the lower level, intimate spaces continue the material dialogue. The primary bedroom features bronze mirror panels, vintage Giuseppe Ostuni sconces and a Paul László-inspired bed. A cantilevered desk with Schindler-style detailing forms a study area furnished with a Pierre Jeanneret chair, while the renovated bath includes a monolithic limestone tub and sink.

Guest rooms and baths are home to custom cherry beds, vintage sconces, limestone sinks and plaster walls. Carefully placed artworks and sculptural objects, including pieces from artist Kwangho Lee and Los Angeles gallery Thornton, extend the architectural language into intimate corners.

Through meticulous restoration and sensitive additions, Cleveland ensures that the How House remains both historically significant and vibrantly contemporary. 'I see myself as a collaborator [with Schindler] across time,' she says. 'Preservation is essential, but without interpretation it can become static. My role was to translate his ideas into the present, honouring his experimental spirit rather than freezing it.'

A modern Utrecht house, one of Europe’s most visionary residences, is up for sale. The architect Mart van Schijndel (1943-1999) built it for himself in 1992 in the historic core of Utrecht, utilising the brick walls and beams of a former glass warehouse. It was awarded the prestigious Rietveld Prize and became the city’s youngest municipal monument. But it’s tucked away and would have remained little-known but for the dedication of current owner Natascha Drabbe, who has lovingly maintained every detail and established a Foundation to offer tours and ensure its survival. Now, Drabbe is moving abroad and seeking a worthy custodian for this unique treasure.

Step inside this modernist Utrecht house

Nature compelled the Dutch to be inventive: much of their land was reclaimed from the sea. Architects have built on that tradition, from the canal houses of the Golden Age to the playful post-modernism of van Schijndel, the exuberant expressions of MVRDV, UN Studio and other adventurous offices.

This is matched by a lasting legacy in 20th century architecture, and the city of Utrecht boasts several buildings by the modernist architecture master Gerrit Rietveld, most notably the colourful geometric house he built for Truus Schröder in 1924.

That brilliant experiment may have inspired Van Schijndel to create a total work of art for himself. Behind the enigmatic façade, with its plaster walls striped in lavender and grey and a few small windows, you step into a lofty living room, bathed in natural light from two trapezoidal patios. Glass walls swing open, blurring the boundary between indoors and outside.

An unrailed flight of steps ascend to the primary suite and office-bedroom on the mezzanine. The architect designed cut and folded plywood furniture, bookshelves, lighting and vases - almost everything but the Rietveld armchairs and sofa.

Newly graduated as an architectural historian, Drabbe began a freelance project at van Schijndel’s studio and eventually married him. She describes the house as an autobiographical project: 'His passions and fascinations show through in the details.' It cast its spell on her and prompted her to launch the Iconic Houses Network, a support group for over 200 modern house museums around the world.

Tirelessly, she acts as its public face and advocate for preservation, steadily expanding the membership, organising conferences, making videos and encouraging curators to collaborate. But the van Schijndel house remained her first love, and it challenged her to maintain its integrity. Its tranquillity and privacy, spatial daring and ingenious furnishings should prove equally rewarding for the next fortunate owner.

The Utrecht house by Mart van Schijndel is on the market through DSTRCT Real Estate | Forbes Global Properties

iconichouses.org

Just in time for Palm Springs Modernism Week, which kicks off this Thursday (12 February 2026), a remarkable midcentury home designed by Donald Wexler is on the market. The four-bed, three-bath, Royal Singapore, designed in 1966, is listed at $1,825,000, and is an example of California desert architecture, a home that responds to its climate.

Tour The Royal Singapore, designed by Donald Wexler in 1966

Located in Green Fairway Estates (now part of the Tahquitz Creek Golf Neighborhood) in South Palm Springs, the property is currently home to Jamie Strong, the co-founder of the independent record label Innovative Leisure. The Royal Singapore sits against unobstructed views of the Tahquitz Creek golf course and San Jacinto Mountains.

The residence has subtle nods to Polynesian design, while boasting Wexler’s typical open-plan layouts, steel construction, and effortless indoor-outdoor living. Outside the home is a rubber tree, which leads visitors into the courtyard, with Wexler's signature custom water feature at its heart.

Through the double door entry, a raised walnut-panelled hall steps down to polished concrete flooring. In the centre of the open floor plan is a fully restored Alexander Cone fireplace. All four of the bedrooms are spacious, with two boasting seating areas, while all of the bathrooms offer period tile work.

The home has a new kitchen, with a breakfast bar, a formal dining room and a family room. The garden has a backdrop against the golf course and mountain vistas. Here, visitors will find a kidney-shaped saltwater Pebble Tex pool, a barbecue area, and fresh landscaping. For those interested in purchasing the property, artworks and furnishings are available to buy separately, to complete the modernist gem.

For enquiries about the listing please visit www.uniquecaliforniaproperty.com

The Grade II*-listed Six Pillars, set within London’s Dulwich Wood neighbourhood, is one of the city’s best-known modernist houses. Designed and built between 1932 and 1934 by architect Valentine Harding in collaboration with Tecton, led by Berthold Lubetkin, the house was restored in 2000 under the direction of the renowned architect John Winter, with a later extension by Smith Brooke Architects. Today, it extends to more than 3,500 sq ft across three storeys, with its original architectural features exceptionally well preserved, continuing to embody the clarity, innovation and restraint of early British modernism. It is now offered for sale through The Modern House at £3.2 million.

Originally commissioned by John Leakey, headmaster of Dulwich College Preparatory School, and his wife, Six Pillars is discreetly set back from a quiet residential road. Its architectural profile is defined by a distinctive minimalist façade, ribbons of clerestory windows and the six cylindrical pillars from which the house takes its name. A long private driveway leads to the principal entrance: a glass doorway set at an angle, offering the first hint of the carefully choreographed spatial experience within.

Entry is into a striking double-height hall centred on a sculptural staircase. Original chevron parquet flooring runs underfoot, while a tall bay of gridded glazing draws light deep into the space, creating a constantly shifting atmosphere throughout the day.

The home’s living spaces unfold across an angled plan, resulting in a fluid and logical lateral layout. The open-plan kitchen and dining room are fitted with bespoke plywood joinery, stainless-steel worktops and a central island. A door leads from here to a self-contained one-bedroom annexe, formerly the garage, featuring poured concrete flooring and direct access to a private rear courtyard.

Also on the ground floor, the principal living room is a calm space defined by a long bay of steel-framed windows overlooking the gardens. An original art deco fireplace forms its focal point, flanked by built-in bookshelves.

Up the curved staircase, four bedrooms and two bathrooms are arranged off a central corridor. Each bedroom enjoys garden views, with three opening onto a long rear balcony that spans the width of the house. The second floor accommodates a further bedroom wing, conceived as a peaceful retreat with its own shower room and access to a roof terrace. The gardens, recently redesigned by Marc O’Neill, are immersive and biodiverse, featuring deep herbaceous borders, mature shrubs, flowering perennials and sweeping lawns.

Six Pillars, widely regarded as Harding’s best-known work, reflects a specifically British modernism shaped by American precedents of domestic rationalism, technological optimism and spatial clarity – translated here into a more restrained, landscape-sensitive form whose legacy continues to inform British housing design.

It has been 100 years since Eileen Gray – the Irish designer and architect widely regarded as one of the most influential figures of 20th-century modern design – introduced her ‘Bibendum’ chair. With its bold, sculptural form, the chair challenged conventional ideas of what modern furniture could be, and remains one of Gray’s most recognisable and celebrated works.

Aram, which has held the worldwide licence for Gray designs since 1973 and worked closely with the designer during her lifetime, is marking the centenary with the launch of a limited collector’s edition. Released exactly a century after the chair was first conceived in 1926, the edition is restricted to just 100 pieces.

The ‘Bibendum’ chair occupies a rare position between functional furniture, sculptural form and cultural artefact. It is celebrated for its bold and unconventional construction: a backrest formed from a stack of padded cylindrical cushions, paired with a generously proportioned seat and supported by a tubular steel frame. The chair takes its name from the original Michelin Man, Bibendum – a reference that highlights Gray’s signature wit.

Throughout the late 1920s and 1930s, Gray incorporated the ‘Bibendum’ chair into a number of her most significant interior projects, including a 1933 commission for fashion entrepreneur Juliette Lévy. Early examples were upholstered in fabric or skai, a leather-like vinyl, and were shown at Gray’s Jean Desert gallery in Paris.

These original versions are now exceptionally rare, with only two believed to remain in private ownership. Today, the ‘Bibendum’ chair is most often encountered in museum collections. However, Aram’s long-standing relationship with Gray has enabled it to preserve the authenticity of her work while presenting it to new generations – the centenary edition reflects this approach.

Produced in collaboration with ClassiCon, the sublicensee for Gray designs outside the UK, the centenary edition is upholstered in Sørensen Duet nubuck gold leather, selected for its softness and evolving patina, and finished with a nickel-plated base that recalls the tone and sheen of early models. Each piece is individually stamped with its edition number, reinforcing its exclusivity and provenance.

A century after its creation, the ‘Bibendum’ chair remains as compelling as ever. The centenary edition not only honours Gray’s legacy, but also reaffirms the chair’s place as a landmark of modern design, destined to be treasured by future generations.

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 Californian community

Set within California’s Sea Ranch community, The House of Four Ecologies is a coastal retreat designed by a group of architect friends. Led by James Leng alongside Natasha Sadikin, Juney Lee and Hoang Nguyen, the 1,600 sq ft home is conceived as four distinct volumes nestled into a riparian corridor of firs, grasses and shrubs. Each space is oriented to a different ecological condition, creating varied relationships to ocean, garden, meadow and forest. Inside, rooms unfold as experiential moments: the Ocean Room frames the Pacific through a single large window; the Garden Room blurs interior and exterior with sliding walls and a courtyard; the kitchen and dining area forms the social heart; and an ensuite studio overlooks the meadow beyond.

A sunken garden home

Designed by architect couple Deborah Saunt and David Hills of DSDHA, Covert House is a discreet yet radical response to London’s housing constraints. Tucked behind Clapham Old Town’s historic terraces, the house is invisible from the street, sinking partly below ground. Built on a speculative backland site, the project became both a family home and a testing ground for the architects’ broader ideas about urban living. Cast concrete defines the structure, alternating between raw and refined finishes, while large skylights and glazed façades flood the interior with daylight. The inverted layout places living spaces above and bedrooms below,. Reading a bit like a pavilion set within greenery, the house demonstrates how dense cities can accommodate inventive, sustainable architecture.

A Tbilisi apartment

In a historic art nouveau building in Tbilisi’s Sololaki district, designers Nino Nozadze and Eka Papamichail have reimagined an apartment for Georgian chef Tekuna Gachechiladze. Original parquet floors, tall ceilings and double doors preserve the building’s character, while new material interventions introduce warmth and clarity. Walnut furniture, plastered walls and a sculptural coffered ceiling shape the living spaces, anchored by a long dining table. The kitchen combines professional stainless-steel surfaces with generous daylight and garden views, functioning as both workspace and social hub. Throughout the apartment, muted ochres, greens and turquoise accents act as subtle architectural gestures, while bathrooms introduce marble and travertine tones.

A Canadian ranch

Daisy Ranch, designed by Olson Kundig for builder and fabricator Patrick Powers, is a home rooted in adventure, craft and landscape. Set on Salt Spring Island in British Columbia, the cabin-like residence responds to its rugged surroundings with durable materials and a straightforward architectural framework. Inspired partly by the brick farmhouse Powers grew up in, the house features expansive windows that forge a strong connection to nature. The interior acts as a living archive of family history, filled with found objects and personal artefacts, including a canoe suspended from the ceiling. Designed to withstand the energy of family life, Daisy Ranch is a robust home that celebrates making and memory.

A Richard Neutra landmark

Richard Neutra’s 1960 Sale House in Los Angeles was listed for sale this month, offering a rare opportunity to inhabit a meticulously restored modernist landmark. Originally commissioned by Robert and Elsa Sale, the single-storey home exemplifies Neutra’s signature glass-walled design, with fluid living spaces radiating from a central kitchen. Panoramic glazing frames views of protected greenbelt land, city lights and the Pacific Ocean, allowing the house to shift with the seasons. Original details – including built-in furniture and mosaic tile work by Elsa Sale – were preserved during a sensitive restoration completed in 2021. The house has always remained fully lived in rather than museum-like, embodying Neutra’s belief that architecture should enhance wellbeing.

A Czech chalet

Na Kukačkách is a contemporary reinterpretation of the traditional alpine chalet, designed by edit! architects in the Giant Mountains of the Czech Republic. While the exterior adheres strictly to local building codes – with a timber-clad form, gabled roof and stone plinth – the interior introduces a bold, vertically connected spatial experience. Built using prefabricated cross-laminated timber panels, the chalet maximises daylight and views through large-format glazing on its freer façades. The main living space occupies the first floor, where a soaring timber ceiling and expansive west-facing window frame the mountainous landscape. Bedrooms are tucked into the eaves above, linked by a gallery that overlooks the living area.

A calming Palma home

Casa Óculo, designed by OHLAB on the outskirts of Palma, is a contemporary Mediterranean home shaped by light and material ageing. Defined by a large flat roof stretching across the site, the house is organised beneath thick lime-rendered walls that rhythmically divide interior spaces. A circular oculus punctures the roof, functioning as a domestic sundial that tracks the sun’s movement throughout the day. Materials – lime mortar, stone floors, wood and brass – were chosen for their ability to weather gracefully, and a lush Mediterranean garden is treated as an extension of the house, merging interior and exterior life. Casa Óculo offers a calm, sensory environment where architecture quietly frames the passage of time.

A woodland retreat

What began as a simple weekend retreat for a New York City couple evolved into a lifestyle transformation anchored by architecture and farming. Designed by Desai Chia Architecture, this house sits atop an 86-acre site in Columbia County with sweeping views of the Catskill Mountains. The low, elongated structure is organised around a central glass-walled living space, with bedroom wings extending on either side. A sweeping curved roof, inspired by the silhouette of oak leaves, shapes light, directs rainwater and softens the building’s relationship to the land. As the project unfolded, a working farm emerged alongside the house, turning the retreat into an immersive, seasonal way of life deeply connected to place.

A London retrofit

Trace is a low-carbon retrofit project by Bureau de Change that reimagines a 1980s brick building in Euston as contemporary multi-family housing rooted in circular design principles. Rather than demolish the existing structure, the architects retained and extended it, adding two floors to create five new apartments. The most distinctive feature is the bespoke glass-reinforced concrete façade, made using crushed bricks salvaged from the original building. Inspired by Georgian proportions and arches, and ntegrated into the wider Euston Area Plan, Trace demonstrates how reuse, material innovation and architectural sensitivity can offer a compelling model for urban housing.

A fitting finale

Bill Prince, editor-in-chief

A rare standing ovation greeted the conclusion of Véronique Nichanian’s autumn-winter 2026/27 menswear show at Hermès last weekend – a fitting tribute to her 38 years leading the house’s men’s offer. The moment was capped by a showreel of her work over the years and a performance by one of her favourite artists, Paul Weller. It was a privilege to be present and witness the passing of the baton to Grace Wales Bonner, who shows next year. In the meantime, we bathed in a final walk defined, as ever, by the designer’s precision and elegance – a tutorial in contemporary tailoring that came with more than a flash of Véronique’s rock ’n’ roll spirit, with its inclusion of blush shearlings and high-shine crocodile suiting.

Modernism on the move

Ellie Stathaki, architecture & environment director

This week involved a bit of travel at the architecture desk. First, I visited Villa Beer, the newly reopened Viennese modernist classic by Joseph Frank and Oskar Wlach. What a treat it was to explore this rare 20th-century gem (as well as pay a visit to Hermann Czech’s beautiful miniature icon, the Kleines Café in central Vienna, where I bumped into none other than Mr Czech himself).

On Wednesday, meanwhile, I hopped on a preview tour of the upcoming Kanal-Centre Pompidou in Brussels. The Belgian capital has seen nothing like it – until November 2026, that is – when this significant (40,000 sq m) cultural destination will open, complete with an architecture centre, art galleries, public plazas, hospitality offerings and a playground by Assemble. Set in a former Citroën factory and showroom from the early 20th century, the building has been reimagined by a trio of collaborators: EM2N, noAarchitecten and Sergison Bates architects.

The project is nothing if not ambitious, and its authors are passionate about becoming an active and inclusive presence in the city’s urban realm. 'We are creating a museum where the centre of gravity won’t be the exhibitions,' said its managing director, Yves Goldstein, at a press conference held within the structure’s advanced building site. 'It will be the public space. We want to create a public space.'

A blues-beating ritual

Tianna Williams, staff writer

After what seems to be the longest January in history, I am grateful that we are inching closer to spring. Though the cold, wet months are not for the faint of heart, I have recently been trying to shift my perspective and embrace 'the cosy'. This includes journaling, sipping warm drinks and eating pastries in weather that can only be described as grim.

Central to this is a good candle (I have been thoroughly enjoying Ashley & Co’s Tui & Kahili scented candle, as well as their Coffee Date lip balm), your favourite mug (I love Nkuku), and blank pages on which to jot down your thoughts.

A world of craft

Anna Solomon, digital staff writer

A trip to Paris Design Week a couple of weeks ago yielded many beautiful destinations, but one stop has lingered: Astier de Villatte. Located on the Rue Saint-Honoré, just behind the Jardin des Tuileries, the boutique is an enchanting space devoted to ceramics, perfume and books. Astier de Villatte feels suspended in time, its old-world interior a higgledy-piggledy assemblage of objects that wouldn’t feel out of place on Diagon Alley.

The brand’s world also encompasses a letterpress printing atelier in l’Haÿ-les-Roses – one of the last in the world still printing books using lead – a publishing house and a perfume workshop. Founders Benoît Astier de Villatte and Ivan Pericoli have built its reputation almost entirely through word of mouth – relying on people who, like me, are so charmed by this shrine to craft and tradition that they can’t help but pass the story on.

A Portobello pit stop

Jamilah Rose-Roberts, social media editor

Last week, while wandering through Portobello in search of secondhand books and old cameras, the need to eat crept in slowly. Portobello has a way of doing that through all the walking and browsing. What I was craving was breakfast that felt solid and well made – somewhere I could sit, eat properly and carry on with the day.

Almost by accident, I stumbled upon Cleanse Juice Bar and Kitchen, a health café tucked neatly on the vibrant street, offering everything I was craving. The space is light-filled and unfussy, and the food leans into organic, fresh, carefully prepared ingredients.

Breakfast here feels super restorative. Vibrant bowls layered with seasonal fruit, grains and seeds arrive looking alive, with flavours that are clean and well balanced. The juices taste purposeful rather than sweetened – each one clearly built with care for the body. There is a sense that ingredients matter, that provenance is part of the pleasure. I recommend their Moroccan tea, which is delicious.

In a neighbourhood overflowing with choice, Cleanse Juice Bar and Kitchen feels dependable and consistent. If you are nearby and want a good breakfast, coffee, or buildable bowl, stop in – it is well worth it.

Few may be familiar with Villa Beer, an example of the Austrian-Swedish modernist architect Josef Frank's work in Vienna – and even fewer will have visited the home, which was until recently left unoccupied and neglected, known mostly to architecture aficionados through history books and archive photography, its rundown exterior glimpsed at in sadness by the select few Viennese aware of its existence.

This is about to change. From March 2026, the newly restored villa in the tiny Viennese suburb of Hietzing is opening its doors to the public, following a careful restoration process which brings the rare example of Viennese modernism back into the spotlight. In short: if you savour a modernist architecture visit and look forward to seeing places like Mies van der Rohe's Villa Tugendhat in Brno and Eileen Gray's renovated E-1027 in Côte d'Azur, a tour of this 20th-century gem might be in order.

Step inside Villa Beer in Vienna

Villa Beer was built in 1929/30 to a design by the famous Austrian-born architect, artist and designer Josef Frank, who worked on the project with Oskar Wlach (at the time, the duo was in partnership in the architecture firm Haus & Garten). It was a private commission by the art-loving couple Julius and Margarete Beer and their Viennese Jewish family of four.

The house features many hallmarks typically associated with modernist thinking – clean, white, geometric volumes, large windows and a flexible floor plan with plenty of internal connections and fluid living space. Interestingly, it was built in brick instead of concrete, which was more commonly used in other modernist homes.

Importantly, the layout and forms of Villa Beer highlight Frank's spirit of eschewing modernism's dogma and allowing for flexible usage and daily life to take centre stage – a 'people-friendly' modernism, the architects involved in its restoration underline.

The property is generous, set within a large garden, and spanning a total of some 650 sq m. It comprised several living areas, overlooking ample outdoor space through oversized windows, a music room, a library, four main bedrooms for the family as well as staff quarters (it counts ten bedrooms in total), a modern kitchen, a garage and a number of large sun terraces, which nod to modernism's goal of promoting wellness.

Unfortunately, the Beers ran into financial hardship soon after the house was completed, never living in it for long, and renting it out often to cover their loan instalments. Furthermore, tragically, eventually, most of the family fled Austria with the rise of antisemitism later in the 1930s - as did Frank, who went on to live in Sweden and became a leading figure in the design world through his involvement with the interior design store Svenskt Tenn (Oskar Wlach also left for the US). The couple's daughter, Elisabeth Beer, was murdered in Maly Trostinez in 1941.

From that point, Villa Beer suffered neglect and changing hands, when it was acquired in 2020 by the current owner, Lothar Trierenberg, who founded (and currently is managing director at) the Villa Beer Foundation the following year. Through this vehicle, he embarked on a journey to protect this rare sample of Viennese architectural heritage - kick-starting a restoration project so that the public can rediscover the stories of its architects and owners, and their legacy.

Trierenberg writes in a book published on the occasion of the reopening of Villa Barr: 'When I first entered the house five years ago, having discovered it by a fortunate coincidence, I knew little about its past. Yet the significance of its architecture - and what it reflects - revealed itself immediately. Despite its abandoned condition, with much of its original charm faded, the character and power of the architecture were immediately palpable. One thing was clear: This story and its meaning must not remain private, but rather reach and move as many people as possible.'

Trierenberg worked in collaboration with architect Christian Prasser, the Federal Monuments Office and landscape architects Auböck + Kárász to breathe new life into the tired and much-altered landmark. The main home was brought back to its original state, and two lower levels were discreetly added, adapting the garage into what will be the main entrance and shop, and expanding to include offices, an archive and storage space, alongside a new mini auditorium.

The house had undergone several subdivisions over the years - even split into a two-property arrangement at one time. The restoration work returned the interior to the home's original, single-residence, open-plan layout. While the Beers' loose furniture was long lost, several preserved built-in elements were saved and refreshed - missing parts reconstructed where needed and often in a way that indicates what's old and what's new, to showcase both what the home would have looked like in its freshly-constructed fabric - and what the patina added through the passing of time.

A high standard of craftsmanship and historical accuracy were prioritised, and the team often engaged the project's original contractors for the reconstructions and replacements. As a result, floors, fireplaces, security grilles, the dumbwaiter and radiators were repaired, alongside several windows.

Even the music room was reinstated with a grand piano of the same era, replacing the long-lost Bösendorfer one owned by the Beers, who frequently hosted recitals and musical soirees.

Aiming for the house to become a beacon for culture and learning, Katharina Egghart, the managing director of the Villa Beer Foundation, flags that a diverse programme of activities is currently in the works. This will include anything from guided tours, discussions, music and literary events, to symposia and educational workshops.

The newly renovated top floor (furnished with textiles and furniture designed by Josef Frank for Svenskt Tenn) will be available to even host guests overnight, bookable through the Villa Beer's website, while creative residences and research programmes are also in the house's future. Meanwhile, the main dining room and kitchen can be used to host creative dinner parties.

Trierenberg said: ‘Villa Beer is also intended to become a place of learning and teaching for architecture as well as for the complex history of the interwar period.' Egghart added: 'Even though Villa Beer will be open to the public in future, its character as a residential building will be preserved as far as possible. Visitors should feel like welcome guests.'

You can book your visit to Villa Beer online from February 2026. The home is open for visits from 8 March 2026

Villa Beer, Wenzgasse 12; 1130 Vienna

Built in 1930 on a hilltop in Le Pradet, near Toulon, Villa de Mandrot – also known as L’Artaude – is a Le Corbusier gem that blends modernism with Mediterranean vernacular tradition. Designed as a holiday residence for Hélène de Mandrot, a prominent patron of the arts and a key figure in Parisian avant-garde circles, the property sits on a plot bursting with pine, lavender, cypress and lemon trees. It is now on the market through Architecture de Collection, listed for €2.3 million.

De Mandrot asked Le Corbusier to design a simple holiday home with ‘two bedrooms, four extra beds and a garden’. The result spans 200 square metres across two levels in an L-shaped plan. The ground floor is anchored by a living room with a fireplace that opens onto the rear garden, alongside a kitchen and dining area. The sleeping quarters include a master bedroom with an en-suite and a second space that can serve as a bedroom or office. The garden level – originally the caretaker’s quarters – covers 80 square metres and now houses a workshop, an open kitchen and a shower room.

Originally, the terrace was framed by two monumental sculptures by modernist sculptor Jacques Lipchitz – Le Chant des Voyelles (1931) and Nu Couché à la Guitare (1928) – though these have since disappeared.

Le Corbusier’s philosophy – and the branch of modernism that he fathered – encompassed the integration of light and air as a key tenet. The villa is perched on a hill with a southern orientation that ensures sunlight throughout the day. The shaded north façade, meanwhile, remains cool, reflecting a thoughtful response to the Mediterranean climate.

Villa de Mandrot, which has been listed as a Historic Monument, represents the intersection of two currents of modernism. On one hand, it reflects the purist, standardised, industrial aesthetic of Le Corbusier’s ‘machine for living’, akin to Villa Savoye and comparable modernist works such as Eileen Gray’s Villa E-1027. On the other hand, the Provence property demonstrates a dialogue between the International Style and Provençal culture, embracing local materials and landscape.

Le Corbusier anchored the house in its setting through the use of rubble and Var stone, while elements such as a grand staircase leading to the garden highlight the surrounding nature. The terrace, windbreak wall and cabin echo the Mediterranean patio. In 1931, the architect called the project ‘stunning, new, strong, solid, splendidly incorporated into the landscape’.

Villa de Mandrot is a compelling example of modernist ideals being adapted to local context without losing their formal clarity. A perfect blend of Le Corbusier’s standardised design principles and Mediterranean materials, climate awareness and landscape sensitivity, it is an enduring symbol of 20th-century architectural ingenuity.

When Africa Hall opened in Addis Ababa 64 years ago, it was unlike anything the Ethiopian capital had seen. Notably, the sweeping modernist complex, designed by Italian architect Arturo Mezzedimi, had no fences. That simple design gesture symbolised the building’s role, contributing to an open and unified continent as the headquarters for the UN Economic Commission for Africa and as a critical player in the formation of the African Union.

‘Today … the peoples of Africa can, at long last, deliberate on their own problems and future,’ Haile Selassie, emperor of Ethiopia, observed at the time.

Over the decades, like many structures of the age, Africa Hall fell into disrepair. Following a $60 million, decade-long restoration led by Australian firm Architectus that was completed in 2024, the building was meticulously restored to serve as an emblem of progress once again. Today the renovation has received what is considered the top honour in the realm of preservation – the World Monuments Fund/Knoll Modernism Prize.

The award, a joint initiative of the World Monuments Fund (WMF) and Knoll, is granted every two years to extraordinary projects that safeguard threatened modernist buildings. Past honorees have included a once-abandoned concrete residence in Argentina; a crumbling French school dedicated to Karl Marx; and even a bus station in Preston, UK.

The prize, said Bénédicte de Montlaur, president and CEO of the World Monuments Fund, was created to ‘highlight exemplary preservation efforts around the world. The renewal of Africa Hall by Architectus embodies this mission, honouring the original architect’s vision while ensuring the building can continue to serve as a vital place for cultural exchange and African unity.’

Between 2014 and 2024 Architectus worked carefully to preserve the building while transforming it into a contemporary hub for diplomacy. In addition to addressing critical work like the building’s concrete structure, the firm restored decorative elements, including 13 million mosaic tiles, a dazzling 1,600 sq ft stained glass window by Ethiopian artist Afewerk Tekle, and some 500 pieces of original, bespoke furniture.

The renovation also included important new upgrades, such as more seating for member states in the soaring Assembly Hall, updated AV and mechanical systems, as well as a new museum, visitors’ centre and café.

Africa Hall ‘stands as one of the most important expressions of modern architecture on the continent’, said prize jury chair and professor Barry Bergdoll. ‘The recent restoration has allowed the clarity of Messedimi’s design to speak again, revealing the ambition, craftsmanship, and symbolic power that have made the building a landmark of modernism and a continuing stage for African diplomacy.’

Architectus will receive the award, which comes with a $10,000 cash prize, at a special ceremony on 18 February 2026 during Modernism Week in Palm Springs, California.

Of Richard Neutra’s Sale House, Belgian former real estate developer Peter Galliaert said that he ‘felt [it] before going in’. ‘Oh my gosh – this is it,’ he proclaimed. He later bought the residence, which was designed and built in the modernist enclave of Crestwood Hills in Los Angeles in 1960. Now, Galliaert, who is a vocal advocate for mid-century preservation known for collecting architecturally significant works, is listing the home for sale.

The Sale House was originally owned by Robert and Elsa Sale, who commissioned Neutra to create a rustic, woodsy modernist retreat and lived there for 55 years. They designed the house for both art and living, incorporating a skylit entry gallery with soaring ceilings, a bougainvillea-covered pergola, and a sheltered brick terrace positioned to protect ocean views. A subsequent owner was Daniel Humm, the Swiss-born chef-owner of New York institution Eleven Madison Park.

The three-bedroom, two-bathroom home’s single-storey plan is elegant and intuitive: living, dining and den spaces unfold from a central kitchen, allowing for effortless flow. Glass walls – one of Neutra’s defining signatures – frame views across a protected greenbelt and conservancy mountains, city lights, and the Pacific Ocean stretching toward the Malibu coastline. Galliaert was particularly drawn to how the house ‘moves with the seasons’, offering shifting light and sunset perspectives throughout the year.

Original Neutra-era features remain intact, including built-in cabinetry and furniture, original bathroom tile and mosaic accents created by Elsa Sale, who was an artist-craftsperson. These mosaics appear throughout the house and within the pool, forming an artistic throughline.

A restoration completed between 2020 and 2021 was led by Escher GuneWardena Architecture and GW Design under a strict 'preservation-first' philosophy. The project returned both the house and pool to their authentic state, favouring simple, local and honest materials over stylistic embellishments such as imported stone. New lighting undid decades of over-illumination to restore the home’s original atmospheric vibe.

Set on just over an acre and bordering permanently protected land – an increasingly rare proposition in LA – the property’s landscape was reimagined by Ivette Soler Gardens, known for her work with publisher Benedikt Taschen. Her approach honoured Neutra’s architectural geometry while prioritising the preservation of the Santa Monica Mountains ecosystem, resulting in a naturalistic environment rather than a decorative ‘show garden’. The home’s direct relationship with the nature around it reflects Neutra’s belief that architecture should enhance human wellbeing through its environment.

The Sale House is a rare example of a Neutra residence that has been meticulously restored while remaining fully lived in – a quality that, we think, gives it particular resonance. Rather than existing as a static museum piece, it continues to serve the architect’s original intent. Its modernism does not register as spectacle or dogma, but as something intuitively felt: a harmony between light, landscape and movement that captures the spirit of the movement.

The Sale House is listed by Frank Langen of Compass and Dalton Gomez of Christie's International Real Estate SoCal for $5,295,000.

Jean Prouvé (1901–1984) occupies a singular position in 20th-century architecture and design. Neither architect in the orthodox sense nor industrial designer by training, he described himself instead as a constructeur, a 'builder' for whom the act of making, assembling and improving was inseparable from ethics. Best known today for his metal furniture and pioneering prefabricated buildings, Prouvé’s importance lies less in a recognisable style than in a conviction that design should respond directly to social need. Few modernist architecture masters managed to fuse politics, craftsmanship and construction with such clarity. Fewer still did so while remaining rooted in one city: Nancy, where this creative's ideas were formed, tested, and, in many ways, lived out.

Who was Jean Prouvé?

Born in Nancy in 1901, Prouvé grew up in a household shaped by progressive artistic ideals. His father, Victor Prouvé, was a leading figure of the École de Nancy, one of the epicentres of France’s Art Nouveau movement that linked beauty to social reform and craft to industry. This environment instilled in Jean a respect for labour and material intelligence rather than academic theory. Rejecting formal architectural education, he trained as a metalworker, learning through fabrication, failure and iteration.

Jean Prouvé: origins

That practical grounding shaped both Prouvé's personality and his politics. He was outspoken, stubborn and deeply principled, resistant to authority when it conflicted with his moral compass. During the Second World War, these qualities found concrete expression: he joined the French Resistance, placing his technical skills at the service of a broader struggle against occupation. Shortly after liberation, he briefly became mayor of Nancy, a symbolic civic role that reflected both his wartime commitment and the trust he commanded locally. It was a fleeting political chapter, but one that reinforced his belief that building, governance and social responsibility were inseparable.

Nancy: workshop, city and testing ground

Nancy was not merely Prouvé’s birthplace but the engine of his thinking. Set in the eastern heartlands of French heavy industry, Nancy had long forged itself as a place where manufacturing (particularly metalwork) fused with beauty, the École de Nancy being a product of this. It was also a city with strong traditions of social reform and offered fertile ground for his ambitions. In the 1930s, he established his own workshops there, producing everything from furniture and façade panels to structural components and experimental housing. Unlike many modernists, Prouvé did not separate architecture from production; design happened on the workshop floor as much as on the drawing board.

The city also shaped his understanding of scale and responsibility. Prouvé was less interested in monumental gestures than in repeatable solutions: doors, joints, roofs, frames — the elements that could be standardised, improved and deployed widely. Nancy allowed him to test ideas at a civic scale, responding to schools, housing shortages and post-war reconstruction with pragmatism rather than ideology.

Historical context

Prouvé’s career unfolded in parallel with some of the century’s most urgent crises. Before the war, he gained recognition for metal furniture that translated structural logic into domestic form: chairs and tables where strength, economy and comfort were all too visible. After 1945, his focus intensified around housing, driven by the acute shortages facing France. He developed lightweight, prefabricated systems intended to be transported, assembled and disassembled with ease, emphasising speed, dignity and efficiency.

It was in this context that his collaboration with Abbé Pierre emerged, culminating in the Maison des Jours Meilleurs (House of Better Days) in 1956 — a project that distilled Prouvé’s humanitarian ideals without spectacle. While bureaucratic resistance ultimately limited its dissemination, the project stands as a powerful expression of architecture conceived as an emergency response rather than an aesthetic exercise. That said, to contemporary eyes and taste, Prouvé’s designs are more than a little aesthetically pleasing and desirable.

Throughout these years, Prouvé’s relationship with industry was complex. He believed in mass production but resisted its tendency to dilute authorship and ethics. Being forced out of his own company in the early 1950s was a personal blow, yet it did not weaken his influence. Later roles within large industrial groups allowed him to continue refining systems and advising on construction at scale, even as his most radical ideas often outpaced institutional comfort.

Legacy and relevance

Jean Prouvé’s legacy has only sharpened with time. In an era preoccupied with climate responsibility, housing inequality and resource scarcity, his insistence on an economy of means feels strikingly current. Architects from Renzo Piano to Parisian studio Lacaton & Vassal have acknowledged his influence, particularly his belief that generosity can be structural rather than symbolic.

Yet Prouvé resists easy canonisation. His work is demanding, sometimes austere, and unapologetically utilitarian. What endures is not an image but an attitude: a refusal to separate construction from conscience. Rooted in Nancy, forged in resistance, and sustained by compassion, Prouvé’s career offers a reminder that modernism, at its best, was never only about form — but about building better days for everyone.

8 key projects

Maison des Jours Meilleurs (House of Better Days), 1956

Designed for Abbé Pierre in response to France’s post-war housing emergency, this demountable dwelling distilled Jean Prouvé’s belief that architecture should act quickly and humanely. Conceived for rapid assembly, transport and affordability, it rejected symbolism in favour of dignity. Though never mass-produced at scale, it remains a powerful expression of architecture as social responsibility rather than formal display. In 2024 Paris’ Galerie Patrick Seguin held a show devoted to the Maison Les Jours Meilleurs.

Maison Prouvé, Nancy, 1954

Built for his own family on a hillside in Nancy, this lightweight house functioned as a personal manifesto. Prefabricated aluminium panels, a steel portal frame and dry assembly created a domestic environment defined by efficiency and adaptability. Neither experimental prototype nor showcase villa, it embodied Jean Prouvé’s conviction that innovation belonged in everyday life, not architectural spectacle.

Maison du Peuple, Clichy, 1939

Co-designed with Eugène Beaudouin and Marcel Lods, this pioneering civic building combined a market, assembly hall and offices within a flexible structural system. Retractable floors, sliding walls and exposed metalwork reflected a radical approach to public architecture. Prouvé’s contribution lay in translating social ambition into mechanical ingenuity, allowing the building to adapt to collective use.

Standard Chair, 1934

This seemingly simple wooden chair reveals Prouvé’s understanding of force and material logic. Thick rear legs bear the load, while slimmer front legs reduce unnecessary mass. The result is economical, robust and visually honest. Far from decorative furniture, the Standard Chair exemplifies Prouvé’s belief that good design begins with structure over style.

Demountable Houses (6×6 and 8×8), late 1940s

Developed to rehouse displaced populations after the war, these compact dwellings prioritised speed, clarity and reuse. Made from prefabricated elements, they could be erected with minimal labour and dismantled without waste. These projects framed housing as an urgent logistical challenge, reinforcing Prouvé’s stance that construction systems, not forms, define architectural progress. In 2018 Galerie Patrick Seguin immortalized Prouvé’s Demountable House by installing it at Château La Coste.

Aluminium Furniture for Cité Universitaire, Paris, 1952

Produced for student housing in Paris, this series explored aluminium as a lightweight, durable material suited to communal living. The pieces were stackable, resilient and easily repaired, reflecting Jean Prouvé’s attention to an object’s lifecycle rather than appearance. Furniture here functioned as infrastructure, supporting everyday use while elegantly demonstrating the possibilities of industrial production.

CNIT Roof Structure, La Défense, 1958

Working as an engineer and consultant, Prouvé contributed to the vast concrete shell of the CNIT exhibition hall. The project marked his engagement with large-scale construction and structural daring. Though less intimate than his housing work, it showed his capacity to apply principles of efficiency and load distribution to monumental contexts without abandoning technical rigour.

Façade Systems and Industrial Panels, 1950s–60s

Across multiple projects, Prouvé developed curtain walls, panels and envelope systems that prioritised assembly logic and performance. These components, often overlooked beside his buildings and furniture, encapsulate his thinking most clearly. Architecture, for Prouvé, was a sum of parts and improving those parts was a political as well as technical act.