By the time communism fell in Albania in 1992, it was one of the poorest and most isolated countries in Europe. It had been presided over by dictator Enver Hoxha (and then his protégé Ramiz Alia) since 1944, during which time few people were allowed in or out of the country. Every aspect of life was controlled, from religion to property and trade, leading Albania to be dubbed by some ‘the North Korea of Europe’.

Standing on the beaches of Albania’s south, which attracts throngs of tourists during summer, it’s hard to imagine that boats from nearby Corfu once had to keep their distance for fear of being shot at. Albania had a chaotic transition to capitalism but, as the dust began to settle, and especially when it obtained Nato membership in 2009, the country began to come out of its shell. Albania has a new face now: ‘the Maldives of Europe’.

This is in reference to those southerly districts – the likes of Sarandë and Ksamil – where the water is as crystalline as any Indian Ocean archipelago. But those in the know (and as someone who is married to an Albanian and has been there numerous times, I humbly submit myself as one of those people) understand that that’s only the beginning.

In the north of the country, you can hike, kayak or even ski through the virgin territory of the Albanian Alps (which command the fantastically Tolkien soubriquet, The Accursed Mountains). The Valbona Pass is almost absurdly beautiful, yielding few signs of civilisation save the odd kulla (farmhouse), some of which are centuries old. Albania is also home to one of the last ‘wild’ rivers – more or less untouched by humans – in Europe, the Vjosa.

History abounds in the cities of Krujë – stronghold of the Albanian hero, Gjergj Kastrioti, commonly known as Skanderbeg, who led a rebellion against the Ottoman Empire in the 15th century – and Berat, a Unesco World Heritage Site dubbed ‘the city of a thousand windows’. As for the capital, Tirana? Perhaps lacking in some of the beauty of rural Albania, but without doubt a city on the turn, with the opening of high-end restaurants such as Mullixhiu, the rise of trendy neighbourhoods like Blloku, and a wave of futuristic-sounding architecture projects in the pipeline.

Albania’s changing horizon

A suite of radical high-rises helmed by high-profile architects are currently proposed or under construction in Tirana and beyond. ‘A wave of international architects is contributing to a cityscape that embraces multiple styles, creating a dynamic and pluralistic urban identity,’ says Lukas Rungger, founder of Italian firm Network of Architecture (NOA). ‘Albania’s architectural evolution is fast, vertical and diverse, making it a unique and fascinating case.’

NOA and local firm Atelier 4 are collaborating on Puzzle Tirana, which will resemble a stack of house-shaped ‘puzzle pieces’. Elsewhere in Tirana, Dutch architect MVRDV (whose past projects incude the Portlantis visitor centre and Depot Boijmans Van Beuningen in Rotterdam) is working on the Skanderbeg Building, a tower that is meant to resemble the profile of the eponymous hero, and Downtown One Tirana, which, at 150m, will be the city’s tallest building, with a ‘pixelated’ façade intended to look like a map of Albania. MVRDV was also the architect behind the renovation of the Pyramid of Tirana, originally built as a museum dedicated to Hoxha and now a major tourist attraction. ‘Albania has the potential to avoid the monotony that defines so many contemporary urban environments,’ says MVRDV co-founder, Winy Maas. ‘By embracing diversity rather than homogenising, it is cultivating a distinct identity.’

Downtown One Tirana’s claim to being the city’s tallest building will be short-lived on the completion of Rruga Adem Jashari by Swiss studio Valerio Olgiati, which is planning three towers designed to look like ‘totemic figures’, measuring 150m, 192m and 266m. New Boulevard by Czech firm Chybik + Kristof will be made from red concrete and take on a cascading shape that narrows as it rises, and Tirana Vertical Forest by Italian firm Stefano Boeri Architetti (known for similar ‘vertical forests’ in China and Milan) will be covered in 3,200 shrubs and 145 trees. Portuguese studio OODA has unveiled designs for Bond Tower, a pair of kinked skyscrapers inspired by a ballet dancer’s plié, and Hora Vertikale, which will be made up of 13 staggered cubic volumes.

Outside Tirana, mainly along Albania’s coveted coasts, the story is the same. The Red Sol Resort, planned by Spanish firm Bofill Taller de Arquitectura in Dhërmi, is immediately eye-catching for its blood-red palette. Italian studio Luca Dini is working on five new projects on the Albanian Riviera, including the medieval-inspired Colosseum 339. ‘Albania is undergoing a remarkable transformation,’ says Luca Dini’s head of architecture, Giovanni Ferrara. ‘It is increasingly positioning itself as a destination for cutting-edge architecture, and the new wave of projects showcases a bold vision for the future.’

These projects run alongside Tirana 2030, the masterplan set out by prime minister Edi Rama and the mayor of Tirana, Erion Veliaj, in 2017. The government is working with Stefano Boeri Architetti to realise this vision, which will triple Tirana’s green spaces, with the installation of new parks and nature reserves and the planting of two million trees. Public transport will be improved, a congestion charge implemented, and bus networks expanded. The city will also open the Park of the World, a square of international embassies, reinforcing Albania’s growing visibility on the world stage.

‘It is increasingly rare to find an influential architect who is not involved in Albania,’ says Diogo Brito, co-founder of OODA. ‘Part of the reason for this is that there are fewer bureaucratic restrictions here – this unique condition provides architects with greater freedom to express their concepts.’

Rama’s preference for offbeat architecture can perhaps be explained by his background: the prime minister is a former artist, and spearheaded a public initiative to paint Tirana’s communist-era structures in bright colours. It’s an apt metaphor for the ‘out of the ashes’ moment that Albania has been enjoying for the last 15 years. ‘As the government continues to use architecture as a tool for socio-economic and cultural development, the next decade represents an unprecedented period for Albania,’ says Brito.

Although the projects described above seem defined by their uniqueness, there is a common thread: each is specific to its context. This could be as obvious as Downtown One Tirana’s replication of a map of Albania – ‘a bold abstraction of national identity’, says Maas – or the Skanderbeg Tower, which ‘[turns] his portrait into an urban landmark’. Hora Vertikale, says Brito, ‘intends to make an interpretation of the chaotic nature of Tirana’, with the two towers serving as a ‘welcoming gate’. Puzzle Tirana, says Rungger, is a ‘deliberate reflection on the evolving identity of [Tirana’s] urban living’: ‘In the city centre, two-storey homes stand side by side with high-rise towers. This coexistence of scales inspired us to explore the encounter (or clash) between rural and urban life.’ Luca Dini’s Colosseum 339, meanwhile, features round arches that draw from historical Albanian fortifications.

‘The country is embracing contemporary design while preserving its rich cultural heritage,’ says Ferrara. ‘Buildings are not only aesthetically striking but also functional, sustainable and deeply connected to their surroundings. Our goal is always to elevate the built environment with a deep respect for place and culture.’

Arian Galdini is the chairman of political party the Rinisje Movement and the author of the civic doctrine, Neo-Albanianism; he questions whether the preservation of national identity is quite as simple as creating a building that looks like Albania. ‘Our cities are undergoing a verticalisation that speaks to economic ambition, but too rarely to cultural intention,’ he says. ‘While projects like Puzzle Tirana or Downtown One have symbolic value, much of our construction remains speculative, unregulated and disconnected from human scale. The disappearance of vernacular forms and the privatisation of public space are troubling – architecture needs to serve a social purpose, where every intervention adds meaning rather than mass. The future will not be built by towers alone.’

Professor Gjergj Sinani – philosopher, intellectual, and the rector of University College Bedër in Tirana – agrees: ‘There is a visible attempt at aesthetic boldness, yet architecture is not just about building, but the ethics of space. The task is not to emulate the West blindly, but to cultivate a model of development that honours our past and engages our present.’

As Albania is moulded into a future-facing nation, its infrastructure must grow to support this. The opening of a second airport in Vlorë in 2025, which will handle up to two million passengers annually, will unlock Albania’s south. Various new railways and highways will further ease passage around the country, and Sarandë will see the expansion of its marina to accommodate more yachts. ‘These arteries of movement have altered not only our physical topography but also our psychological one, transforming isolation into aspiration,’ says Galdini. But his concerns about development as a ‘spectacle instead of a strategy’ persist.

A world nation

In 2024, 11.7 million tourists visited Albania – up 15.2 per cent on the previous year, according to the Albanian Times. In 2023, the country ranked fourth globally for the largest percentage increase in international arrivals, according to the UN Environment Programme (UNEP).

Rama forecasts that the country will welcome 20 million tourists in 2030, enough to rival its neighbour Croatia. In March 2025, he addressed attendees of the travel and tourism fair, ITB Berlin, saying, ‘Albania has developed from a hidden gem to a tourist powerhouse in only a short space of time’, pointing out how, along with Saudi Arabia and Qatar, Albania led the rankings in tourism growth, ‘even without a FIFA World Cup or Mecca’.

There is a fine line between ‘buzziness’ and overtourism. Just look at Venice, Bali or Santorini, places that have encountered environmental damage, infrastructure strain and social tensions due to an influx of visitors. Could Albania be treading that line? When I visited Dhërmi in May 2024, buildings were being veritably thrown up along the beachfront to prepare for the high season. Cranes line the horizon. In those thronging resort towns, there is no question that the world has gotten wind of this ‘undiscovered gem’.

‘Tourism, if unregulated or purely profit-driven, can lead to the erosion of identity,’ says Professor Sinani. ‘Are we creating spaces for meaningful cultural exchange or merely commodifying our heritage and landscape? Tourism must be approached with a strategy rooted in sustainability, local empowerment and reverence for the land.’

In 2017, Rama set up a joint Ministry of Tourism and Environment to do, ostensibly, just that. Albania has since joined the Global Sustainable Tourism Council, an organisation supported by UNEP and the United Nations World Tourism Organization (UNWTO). According to UNEP, Albania has increased the percentage of its territory designated as protected areas to 21.4 per cent. The National Tourism Strategy, set out by the minister of tourism and environment, Mirela Kumbaro Furxhi, in October 2024, outlines the country’s sustainable tourism goals, including its eventual accession to the EU and the resultant commitment to its SDGs (sustainable development goals).

‘Having worked in Albania for 18 years, we’ve witnessed incredible change – sustainability has become a key concern, professionalisation has increased, and there is now a critical public debate around construction projects,’ says MVRDV’s Maas. He cites the example of the ‘forest ring’ around Tirana: ‘While many other cities, like Istanbul, are encroaching upon their forests, Albania is creating a protective green belt. Similarly, its efforts to preserve the coastline stand out.’

Galdini, however, is sceptical: ‘Is Albania ready to receive 20 million tourists annually without compromising its ecological, urban and cultural equilibrium? As things stand, the answer is no. We are already experiencing capacity stress in peak seasons: transport bottlenecks, overburdened waste systems, degraded coastlines... The focus on numbers has eclipsed the imperative of quality, sustainability and local benefit.’

At the start of 2025, the government approved a £1.2 billion project by Donald Trump’s son-in-law, Jared Kushner, to transform Sazan, an island off Albania’s southern coast, into a luxury resort. Currently untouched, renders show that Sazan will be turned into a shiny futurescape of 10,000 hotel and villa rooms.

The problem is that this was meant to be one of Albania’s protected landscapes; Kushner’s project has been approved off the back of a law passed in February 2024 that makes it easier to override regulations for the purposes of construction. Is Sazan a microcosm, or possibly an omen? Kumbaro Furxhi has said that ‘the interests of nature conservation, biodiversity protection and sustainable development will always prevail over tourism investments’, but does Rama’s declaration at ITP Berlin that ‘[Albania] needs luxury, just like [the] desert needs water’ trump that?

For now, Albania remains one of the last frontiers of Europe. In the village where my husband’s grandparents live, mules are still an established mode of transportation and people subsist off homemade olive oil and hand-slaughtered chickens. There’s not a single Starbucks or McDonald's in Albania. At times, one really does feel that this is the same nation traversed by Lord Byron, who was charmed by it during his 1809 grand tour.

Wherever you go, the black eagle spread against the red flag is a persistent symbol of a people who have fought off many would-be occupiers, from the Ottomans to the Serbs during the Kosovan War that ended just 26 years ago. Yet despite an embattled history, the hospitality of the Albanian people stands out, guided by the common phrase ‘before the house belongs to the owner, it first belongs to God and the guest’.

‘What truly fuels Albania’s allure is not simply the rugged coasts, the alpine landscapes and the archaeological echoes of Illyria and Byzantium, but its profound authenticity,’ says Galdini. ‘In an era of over-curated travel experiences, Albania offers serendipity.’

‘Albania has changed,’ he concedes. ‘If we continue on the path of improvisation, we will face stagnation disguised as progress.’

‘What does it mean to be modern without being uprooted? How can we be European without being diluted? Do we want Albania to remain a place where life is lived deeply, or do we allow ourselves to become an exhibition, where tradition is rehearsed rather than lived?’ adds Professor Sinani. ‘The challenge is to ensure that, in opening ourselves to the world, we do not lose the inward gaze – the silent, dignified continuity of what it means to be Albanian.’

In a new architectural landscape of smooth lines and sinuous curves, I also hope that Albania remains rough around the edges.

‘As you may see, Rotterdam is not Rome. It is not Paris, and definitely not Amsterdam. We are different,’ says Robert Simons, vice mayor of Rotterdam’s port and economy. ‘We do have a rich history which allowed for our architectural journey to take a different turn. After the Second World War, our city centre was destroyed. From this, Rotterdam decided to make a bold decision, to rebuild and restore. This allowed us to focus on innovation and our connection to the river mass.’

Enter the new Rotterdam visitor centre: Portlantis

His notes mark the opening of Portlantis, a new educational centre built on the cusp of the port in Rotterdam, where the land meets the sea. Its main purpose is to offer an interactive journey which takes visitors through the story of the city’s rich maritime history, while projecting a glimpse into the future.

The building was designed by architecture studio MVRDV, with interior design by Kossmanndejon, who worked closely with each other to make sure the structure was built with sustainable architecture in mind, while informed by functionality requirements and the surrounding environment. The result is a demountable building with reusable façade panels. It is fully energy-neutral, drawing from its own wind turbine and 266 solar panels.

Located around 45 minutes from the city centre, Portlantis is a modern marvel overlooking the sea. Comprising five cubic volumes, its geometric façade is intriguing and playful, taking on the shape of a Rubik's cube in play. Each level holds distinct character and educational purposes to ignite a spark within the young children who visit, perhaps inspiring them to pursue a future career in Rotterdam’s maritime industry.

Winy Maas, the architect leading the project for MVRDV, says of the design concept: ‘The port is the opposite of the cuteness of the Netherlands. When designing this project we had to think, “How on earth do we compete with this? The cuteness of the windmills or the considered eyesore of gigantic stacks of cargo containers?” Here we wanted to be inspired by [the windmills]. Which is why we created the building as a “cute stack”.’

Maas continues, 'It all started with materials from the port. The façade is constructed with sandwich panels, which are most robust against the wind, salt and dust. We made them shiny because they [happen to] help monitor the levels of dust and wind – signalling when the façade needs to be cleaned and maintained. [For us] it is a poetic interpretation of the harshness of the surrounding environment and a beacon in the landscape.’

Matte black, cylindrical revolving doors guide visitors through a series of swirling lights and deep hums, before they enter the core of the building. Here, the history of the port is unveiled. A large interactive screen highlights the area's development from the Second World War to the present day. Suspended above and taking up the full 22m atrium height are yellow models of parts of a large boat, its propeller and anchor chain, for example, moving and creating different compositions during the day.

The second floor is about the impact and influences of the port on the region's economy, employment, and environment; while the third floor looks to the future. ‘We are in a world of climate change,’ says Herman Kossman, the exhibition designer for Portlantis. ‘We need to think about energy transition and geopolitical changes. This is something the port wants to present, to showcase answers on how to deal with these issues in the future.’

The fourth and fifth floors host a restaurant and an accessible rooftop offering a panoramic view where you can put everything that the exhibition has relayed into context.

The centre is predicted to host 150,000 visitors per year. It is designed to allow visitors to find their own way through the building in order to connect with the port’s maritime spirit.

‘Portlantis’ interior and exterior are designed to be connected,’ explains Kossman. 'Its content and form are interconnected. In our professional world [many projects] start with a building. The architects design it, and then exhibition designers come in and set up their displays. This isn’t just a building with a story inside. The building is also part of the story.’

Portlantis is located at Pr. Máximaweg 301, 3199 KG Maasvlakte Rotterdam, Netherlands portofrotterdam.maglr.com

mvrdv.com

kossmanndejong.nl

Atelier Gardens, a six-acre creative film and community impact campus in Berlin, has welcomed the opening of the bright yellow ‘Haus 1’, an inventively and sustainably refurbished 1990s office building. Haus 1 is a new central hub for the campus, and was an important site for German film, TV and even propaganda since the early 20th century, located just south of Tempelhof Field.

The five-storey building hosts a concierge, a cafe, office space, and a daylight-filled rooftop events venue with skyline views. It also features a dynamic 57m-long yellow ‘stair-scape’ that channels rainwater for re-use in the gardens and toilets – vital functions that are all strategic to growing the environmentally and socially sustainable campus vision of London-based developer and operator Fabrix, which took stewardship in 2020.

HAUS 1: a key part of MVRDV's Atelier Gardens masterplan

The adaptive re-use and eco-friendly interior design of the building is part of Dutch architects MVRDV’s masterplan to transform the previously tired industrial site into a playful, colourful village that champions circularity by design. MVRDV architect Klaas Hofman saw a lot of potential in the group of 'introvert' yet 'diverse' buildings, ranging from a 1934 heritage-protected studio warehouse to boxy late 20th century office blocks. Despite varying quality, they vowed to demolish nothing, instead creating community and identity through renovations, landscaping, bold colours and way-finding.

Today, a cross-disciplinary community buzzes between the five film studios, 11 dubbing studios and 140 workspaces. It’s not uncommon to see Brad Pitt or Taika Waititi grabbing a coffee and sets being built for Amazon or Netflix. Yet alongside this quite transient activity, you’ll find social and environmental activists turning up for work everyday; such as Extinction Rebellion and Greta Thunberg’s Fridays for Future amongst others. Haus 1 is a key anchor for this latter activity, now offering larger workspaces with newly opened up floor plans, bio-based insulation, solar shading and the CLT rooftop extension, all led together with local architects Hirschmüller Schindele Architekten.

Across the campus, landscape design by London-based Harris Bugg Studio supports Atelier Gardens’ circular vision. Waste concrete from the building was re-used or crushed into a soil aggregate for water retention, weed suppression and improved habitat diversity – all resulting in 300 tonnes of material prevented from landfill to date, and more to come.

It’s very much a 'working site' says landscape designer Charlotte Harris, who has begun a 'radical re-greening' with tough pioneering and nitrogen-fixing plants. She started with six trees, now there are 57, with a total of 180 planned. It’s her long-term goal to eventually forge a green corridor with Tempelhof Field; all while improving soil health with composting initiatives run by the zero-waste restaurant Roots Radical; and creating hospitable natural spaces for wellbeing.

At MVRDV, Hofman has been working on adaptive re-use for decades  since he joined in 2008, and has recognised a shift in how people receive it, specially with former industrial buildings. 'Today people really appreciate open-ended industrial spaces, yet it’s important to bring an identity to them.' 

Colour, he explains, is a key tool: 'By using bright colours we can bring industrial buildings into the foreground, instead of making them disappear. It’s much more interesting and we can celebrate the building once again.' He also wrapped a colourful (this time, red) staircase around the MVRDV-designed, new yet industrially-inspired and fully demountable Portlantis Harbour Experience Centre in Rotterdam (opening 2024). 

Atelier Gardens will continue to unfold without a specified end point. 'It’s an evolving masterplan guided by the principles of sustainability and re-use,' says Hofman. 'Each mile stone is a stepping stone, attracting different users, with the landscape forming around it into a natural environment.' 

While Haus 1 plays a key part in bringing more businesses to the campus, its bright yellow colour and dynamic ‘stair-scape’ importantly marks Atelier Gardens as a place of optimism: 'It’s a colour that says “there’s something happening here!” and that all urban buildings have potential,' says Hofman. 

mvrdv.com 

atelier-gardens.berlin

The Washington Heights neighourhood of Manhattan is not usually associated with modern high-rise constructions, but the recently opened Radio Hotel, designed by the Dutch architecture firm MDRDV for developer Youngwoo & Associates, heralds a fresh dynamism for the years to come. As the first completed building in the United States by the Dutch practice, the Radio Hotel embodies MDRDV’s overarching principles of combining exciting design with an urbanistic sensitivity.

Alongside its eye-catching structure, which is formed by a loosely arranged stack of blocks, the building is moulded after a ‘vertical village’ concept that brings many much-needed amenities, such as flexible office spaces, hospitality event spaces and the hotel, that are all available to the local community and beyond. 

Working with Stonehill Taylor as the architects of record, MDRDV has created a vibrant, 23-storey building that takes over one entire city block. To mask its sizeable footprint, the firm opted to stack the building forms, of which there are eight, creating a unique visual rhythm in the surrounding context, while also adding a significant amount of outdoor terrace space so as not to overwhelm either.

Each glazed brick block sports a different hue, inspired by the lively and varied storefronts and signage in the neighbourhood. With the brightest colours at the top and more muted tones closer to ground level, the building exudes an uplifting spirit from a variety of viewpoints.

‘Washington Heights has a unique and exciting character, very different from the other Manhattan neighbourhoods further south,’ says MVRDV founding partner Winy Maas. ‘The design of Radio Hotel and Tower is inspired by that character – we took the smaller blocks that are typical in the neighbourhood and stacked them into a vertical village. Add to that the bright colours that you see all around the area, and the project is like a beacon celebrating this part of the city.’

Home to 221 rooms, the Radio Hotel will serve an existing influx of visitors to the area, whether it's to attend conferences at Yeshiva University or New York Presbyterian-Columbia University Hospital close by. Its interiors, designed by Workshop/APD, complement the building’s exterior by pairing brightly coloured bathrooms with more muted furnishings to create a serene reprieve. 

On the 12th floor, a dedicated event space in the blue block, known as Above the Heights, will serve as a venue for a wide array of events, such as weddings, family reunions, bar mitzvahs and quinceañeras – a first of its kind in the multicultural neighbourhood.

Set against views of Manhattan, with an outdoor terrace, lounge and bar seating at visitors’ disposal, the sophisticated space purposefully considers the needs of the local community in a bid to serve it. 

INFORMATION

Radio Hotel, 2420 Amsterdam Avenue, New York

theradiohotel.com

mvrdv.nl

The Rotterdam Rooftop Walk, a 600m-long orange carpet set 30m up, has opened to visitors. The temporary installation, designed by Rotterdam Rooftop Days and architecture studio MVRDV, encompasses a bridge across one of Rotterdam’s key streets, the Coolsingel.

Offering the opportunity for a new take on the city, the Rooftop Walk encourages visitors to consider issues such as the housing crisis, the possibilities of renewable energy, and the problems posed by climate change. The heightened perspective allows the 18.5 sq m of flat roofs in Rotterdam to be observed, raising possibilities as to their potential.

‘In 2006, for the celebration of 75 years of Rotterdam’s reconstruction, we designed the Stairs to Kriterion, which attracted almost 370,000 visitors,’ says MVRDV founding partner Winy Maas. ‘That’s when the idea arose that it would be good to make a sequel to the project. During the Eurovision Song Contest [in 2021], the idea was to make a high stage to honour the winner, but that was cancelled due to the pandemic. I am glad that Rotterdam Rooftop Days has managed to achieve this, and I want to argue for a further sequel: we should not only occupy our roofs and make them greener but also connect them so that we can offer Rotterdammers a new rooftop park. For this, the orange carpet and the bridging of the Coolsingel are a nice initial test case.’

The new space above the city has attracted designers, architects and artists, who are showcasing how roofs can be used for water storage, energy and food production, and greenery. They have created everything from a virtual village to a green design for De Bijenkorf department store’s roof in a demonstration of the potential utilisation of the space. The creatives have set up a hub part way along the elevated route, which navigates the World Trade Center building as well as that of De Bijenkorf.

INFORMATION

Rotterdam Rooftop Walk is open from 26 May to 24 June from 10am to 8pm (entrance €3.50 for adults, children free). Tickets can be booked via rotterdamsedakendagen.nl or rooftopwalk.nl

On average, most international museums only show six to seven per cent of their collections to the public at any one time. The rest is often off-site and hidden from view, tucked away in closed depots. The new Depot Boijmans Van Beuningen in Rotterdam, designed by architecture firm MVRDV, is bucking this trend, making 99 per cent of its building accessible to the public and the entire collection of the neighbouring Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen – some 151,000 artefacts – available for viewing, even as they are stored.

Technological innovation was key to this bold move, says MVRDV founding partner Winy Maas. ‘We put technology on the same level as sociology, ecology and economics,’ he says. ‘Innovations and achievements in all these aspects are equally important.’ Indeed, the Depot’s ovoid, monolithic appearance belies the most sophisticated engineering. The 39.5m-high, bowl-shaped structure is 40m in diameter at the bottom and 60m at the top, and its overhanging part has no direct supports. Additionally, the openings, including the visitors’ entrance, and the entrance and exit for the exhibitions, create weak points on the ground floor. The task, therefore, was to come up with a design in which the lowest (and narrowest) part of the building could withstand the high load from above. 

The solution lay in the foundations: the first two floors were made from concrete poured in situ, functioning as a structurally solid plinth upon which the building’s remaining four storeys could be constructed. These upper floors are made from prefabricated concrete elements. Below ground, the architects were keen to keep the foundation work strong but also as discreet as possible, to avoid obstructing the natural flow of underground water. ‘The foundation piles of the Depot are kept limited and narrow. We trialled this with our design for the Oslo headquarters of the Norwegian bank DNB, where we guaranteed that water could flow through subterraneously using the same principle,’ says Maas. ‘It is important for the environment that no blockage is created by underground parking garages, metro lines and so on.’ 

Covered by 1,664 mirrored glass panels, the 6,609 sq m façade appears to multiply the green scenery of the surrounding Museumpark. A number of different types of glass were used, including standard reflective glass; reflective glass with a film coating, which is used opposite the Erasmus medical centre to safeguard the patients’ privacy; transparent glass for work spaces that need more daylight; and a type of gradient glass that goes from mirror to fully transparent for the entrances and the roof, so that visitors can enjoy the long views from inside, too. The curvature of the glass panels was another challenge. ‘Most of the panels had to go in the oven two or three times to gain the perfect shape. It was a labour-intensive process,’ says Maas. 

The experimentation did not end there. On the roof are 75 birch trees, each several metres high, in an architectural garden. ‘We started growing them in the south of the Netherlands. By keeping the water level just beneath the surface, we trained them to grow their roots horizontally. When we moved them from the nursery, we knotted the roots together, then spread them out on the rooftop, as the overlapping of the roots creates a strong structure,’ says Maas. ‘Growing them was a simple but lengthy process; it took five years.’ The bowl shape means that the building has a limited footprint on the ground floor, while the roof is roomier, also offering wider views over the Museumpark and the city beyond.

To ensure energy efficiency, MVRDV installed underground thermal storage for climate control, solar panels, LED lighting and high-performance insulation. Rainwater is stored for use in irrigation and the toilet facilities, while the remaining water run-off is directed into a neighbouring pond (belonging to Het Nieuw Instituut), which will be converted into a water basin for the surroundings. 

Maas also invited other creatives to contribute to the project. The ground floor comprises two half-moon shaped spaces; one of them contains the entrance hall and the other a loading dock. They are separated by glass. Artist John Körmeling took advantage of the high ceiling here to create a mezzanine, so visitors can watch art handlers at work on the other side of the transparent wall. Amsterdam-based design firm Concrete created a mobile table system for the rooftop restaurant, which means it can be transformed into a gallery or performance space at any time. Artist and photographer Marieke van Diemen designed the atrium’s 13 floating glass display cases: when an artwork is removed from storage, it will immediately be put into a case for protection, but will still be on view. ‘We developed a system where you can see the exhibits at all angles; you can even walk on top of them, or see them below from the glass bridges,’ says Maas.   

There will be storage depots on floors one to five, the education centre will be on the second, galleries on the third and fourth, and the Stichting De Verre Bergen suite (named after Rotterdam’s social investment fund, which covered the building cost of the Depot alongside the City Council) on the fifth. The atrium occupies the central space on all floors and its crisscrossing staircases lead visitors through various public areas, all the way up to the rooftop. Each atrium staircase will have a landing exactly in the centre of the building, allowing visitors a panoramic view from the heart of the Depot. 

An architectural marvel and a landmark for the city of Rotterdam, the Depot marks a new wave of urban development in Europe's largest seaport. The next few years will see the unveiling of MVRDV’s Harbour Experience Centre, the Feyenoord Stadium by OMA, and the Fenix Museum of Migration by MAD Architects, to name a few. As one of the draughtsmen of the city’s bold architecture statements, Maas calls it ‘a kind of laboratory’. ‘Innovations are allowed in Rotterdam,’ he says. ‘The process has actually been going on for 50 years and we have made a very beautiful collection of urban interventions; here you see the experiments of our time.’

INFORMATION

 mvrdv.nl; boijmans.nl 

'I couldn’t believe what I was seeing,' recalls Sjarel Ex, director of Rotterdam’s Boijmans van Beuningen Museum, thinking back to when he first set eyes on MVRDV’s design for the institution’s new space.

With the museum’s encyclopaedic, city-owned collection of European art constantly threatened by floods, a new storage facility was a matter of urgency for the Boijmans. Ex also saw this as an opportunity to gather the entire collection – currently scattered across several facilities – in one centrally located venue, and open it up to the public. While his Museum has currently the ability to show a mere 8% of the collection, the new Depot will be the world’s first art storage facility that makes a staggering 99% of the collection accessible to public.

The design by MVRDV goes way beyond the core task of facilitating public access, while ensuring due security and appropriate climate control for the highly varied collection. It provides Rotterdam with a city-scale landscape-enhancing device.

The six-storey, 15,500 sq m Depot dissolves into its surroundings, due to the curved reflective facade that turns it into a giant mirror, which reflects everything, from visitors walking in, to the entire Museum Park, and Rotterdam’s ever-changing skies. Occupying a former gravel plot adjacent to the original Boijmans van Beuningen building, the project will also use the newly created plaza as a canvas for large-scale artistic interventions. These will be amplified by the curved mirror.

Reflective, double-curved glass panels are the project's greatest challenge, confirms MVRDV’s principal Winy Maas. Wishing the facade surface to appear seamless, the design team is working to reduce the gaps between the panels, from the customary 20mm, to a mere eight.

The Depot’s sugar bowl shape minimises its footprint while allowing for a large rooftop terrace with a public garden that will float, like a mirage, 40m above ground. The idea of touching the ground lightly equally applies to the construction process. The foundation piles have been screwed rather than nailed into the ground, which has made them more stable and significantly reduced noise. The changing room and site office structure is raised on stilts to keep out of the way of the Museum Park’s outdoor events.

The thickness of the curved concrete shell will vary from 55cm, to 30cm towards the top. Its ground level is being cast in situ, while the use of prefabricated elements for the upper floors will speed up the process once this is done. With a further 18 months needed to complete construction, plus another six for testing, we will have to wait until late 2019 to early 2020 for this radically new experience of the museum – and of Rotterdam itself. But it will be worth it.

INFORMATION
For more information visit the MVRDV website

He wanted to build a huge family home from the ground up; she wanted to stay in the 1930s enclave of Schiedam, just west of Rotterdam, where their teenaged children had grown up. The city wanted the design to reflect the red-brick vernacular architecture of the neighbourhood. What’s truly amazing about Casa Kwantes is that everybody won.

Avoiding the pitfalls of ‘design by committee’, Jacob van Rijs – a founding partner of local practice MVRDV and a friend of the family – instead devised a new template for Dutch urban living. The double plot, the site of a former hospital just 200m from the family’s previous home, has an unusual angular footprint that van Rijs used to everyone’s advantage. Working within municipal regulations, he crafted a street facade of horizontal brick in chalky white. As far as anyone on the pavement is aware, the story ends there.

Take an interactive tour of Casa Kwantes

Yet the south-facing rear of the house, with banks of full-height glazing, adopts a fluid shape that caves in on itself, like artisanal blown glass. This focuses sightlines inward, so every room has a visual connection to the rest of the house – and to the squat olive tree planted in the courtyard, a nod to one owner’s Greek heritage. But the strategic concave shape means these windows welcome the sun throughout the day without welcoming attention from the neighbours.

‘The romantic ideal in this part of the Netherlands is a red brick retro 1930s villa,’ says van Rijs. ‘We wanted to get out of that. The size of the plot gave us the freedom to do that.’ The rooms extend back toward the ‘business end’ of the house, where wall-to-wall wood cabinetry conceals kitchen appliances, loos, storage and a small entrance. You’d think the sun’s glare would send residents into the depths of the house on sunny days, but cantilevers sweeping over each level offer shade. They also mean the family can live outdoors on covered terraces almost year-round. And in Rotterdam, that’s anything but vernacular.

INFORMATION

For more information, visit the MVRDV website

Not many buildings come sealed in bright orange polymer hotspray, but this is exactly the treatment Superdutch architects MVRDV chose for their new project in Amsterdam. Enter the brand new home for local tennis club TC Ijburg. 

The small yet charming project combines a clubhouse with an open air seating area for best views of the matching orange clay tennis courts - all ten of them - as well as the nearby urban landscape and waterfront. The building's roof is folded in such a way that it creates an informal spectator platform, which can seat up to 200 people. 

Inside, the FSC certified wood clad space offers areas to refresh and relax, for players, family and friends. 'IJburg is a new district to the east of Amsterdam,' explain the architects. 'On its six artificial islands, 18,000 homes will be eventually be built for 45,000 residents. At present, the district holds just 16,000 of these inhabitants. There are many initiatives to attract people to the area.' The newly formed tennis club is one of those initiatives. 

The facility, which aims to become a beating heart for the Ijburg community, a gathering space and an integral piece of street furniture for the locals, will be open to the public, free and functional year-round.

Photography: Daria Scagliola & Stijn Brakkee

ADDRESS

The Couch 
Zandzeggestraat 1
1087 SL Amsterdam

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'Rotterdammers' are not used to market halls. 'The Dutch don't have a tradition for this type of market,' says MVRDV co-founder Winy Maas. 'Outdoors ones, yes, but not big, indoor ones.' This, however, is about to change, as the striking new Markthal, designed by Maas and his partners Jacob van Rijs and Nathalie de Vries, has just opened its doors to Rotterdam's food-loving visitors. 

The new building ambitiously brings together a food market and housing in one clean, curvy stroke. Its unmistakable arched outline marks the city centre's northern edge, spanning a footprint of 12,000 sq m. 

Combining a busy food market with residential may not seem an obvious move, but it was always a key part of the plan. 'The residential element was part of the brief,' explains Maas. 'The city centre lacks housing.' New housing in downtown Rotterdam is indeed part of the authorities' strategy to bring people back into the heart of the city and this large-scale project is an important more. Nestled in a gentrified area that is evolving fast, the Martkhal flies the flag of change.

Over 250 apartments - a mixture of rentals and privately owned units - accompanied by underground parking offering no less than a hefty 1200 lots are available within. The scheme's size and ambition didn't faze the team. 'Trying to use housing for other purposes has somehow always been in our genes,' says Maas. 'Contradictions as well, and working with density. "Cute-ification" is not always the proper answer for a city, which is a bit rough, like Rotterdam.' 

The food element was of course of seminal importance. MVRDV looked at the food markets of Barcelona for inspiration, looking to adapt the concept 'in the best Rotterdam tradition', explains Maas. The team's response was to invert the more traditional models of market halls (lower structures, surrounded by taller buildings), which resulted in the current design's grey slab-clad arched shape. It was a challenging one to build, but construction was possible using tunnel-making methods up to the 11th floor and then adding the top floor as a 'lid'. 

'This is much more dramatic and also gives an answer to the scale of the plaza,' says Maas. The structure is located right at the heart of historical Rotterdam, next to its medieval church and where the river Rotte's dam used to be. The site was flattened after the war's bombing and a train track was put through it, before it was covered up, resulting in a large plaza around which taller buildings started to spring up. Rotterdam life slowly grew around it. 

A tennis-racket-style steel cable and glass structure covers the open sides, protecting the merchants from the elements. It was designed to be flexible enough to withstand intense weather conditions. Inside, some 96 stalls dot the surface, with large supermarkets and restaurants lining the sides, championing Dutch produce and creating a new foodie hub for the city's discerning inhbitants and guests.

A colourful bespoke art piece - the Horn of Plenty - by Dutch artist Arno Coenen decorates the arch internally, the colours built into the panels using Pixar Animation Studios' latest high tech software. Beautifully lit at night, it brings the structure to life, when the market is closed.