Walk through a neighborhood that works — one where streets feel safe, where public spaces invite you to linger, where the mix of uses makes daily life feel effortless — and you are experiencing the result of intentional urban design. It rarely announces itself. When it is done well, it simply feels right. But behind that feeling is a disciplined body of thinking about how people move through space, how communities form around place, and how the built environment either supports or undermines the quality of everyday life.
Urban design is not city planning, though the two are closely related. It is not architecture, though it depends on it. It occupies the critical space between the two — operating at the scale of blocks, corridors, districts, and waterfronts — and it is one of the most consequential design disciplines practiced today.
Placemaking: The Art of Designing for People First
At the heart of urban design is a deceptively simple idea: places should be designed for the people who use them, not merely for the vehicles that pass through them or the parcels that contain them.
Placemaking is the practice that gives this idea its form. It asks a foundational set of questions before any line is drawn: Who uses this space? At what times of day? For what purposes? What would make them feel safe, welcomed, and inclined to return? The answers shape everything — the width of a sidewalk, the placement of seating, the presence of shade, the relationship between a ground-floor storefront and the street outside it.
The most celebrated urban spaces in the world — from Copenhagen’s harbor front to the High Line in New York to the revitalized waterfront districts of cities across the American South — share a common characteristic. They were designed with the pedestrian experience as the primary brief, and every other consideration was subordinated to that principle.
A bustling urban civic hub featuring public transit, a farmers market, and a community center.
The Public Realm as Civic Infrastructure
Streets, squares, parks, plazas, and waterfronts are not simply leftover space between buildings. They are civic infrastructure — as essential to a functioning community as roads, utilities, and transit systems. The quality of the public realm directly shapes social cohesion, economic vitality, public health, and community identity.
Urban designers understand this in a way that no other discipline is specifically trained to address. The decision to narrow a travel lane and widen a sidewalk is not merely an engineering choice — it is a statement about whose experience the city prioritizes. The decision to activate a ground floor with retail, community uses, or transparent facades rather than blank walls is a decision about how public and private life relate to each other. These are design decisions with long-term civic consequences.
Technological tools have significantly expanded the urban designer’s capacity to make these decisions well. Geographic information systems allow designers to map and analyze the social, environmental, and economic dimensions of a place with precision that was simply unavailable a generation ago. Data-driven pedestrian flow analysis, climate modeling, and community engagement platforms have made it possible to design places that are responsive to real conditions rather than assumed ones.
Aerial view of a suburban neighborhood centered around a lake with residential and commercial buildings
Urban Vision: Thinking at the Scale of Community
Beyond the individual project, urban design requires vision — the capacity to see not just what a place is, but what it could become, and to hold that vision clearly enough to guide decisions across years, sometimes decades, of incremental change.
A master plan is the primary instrument of urban vision. It establishes the framework — land use, street network, open space, building typologies, phasing — within which individual projects accumulate into a coherent whole. A well-crafted master plan is not a rigid blueprint. It is a set of principles and parameters flexible enough to accommodate change while strong enough to preserve design intent over time.
The communities that have transformed most successfully — that have turned disinvested corridors into vibrant districts, or underutilized waterfronts into economic and cultural anchors — have almost always done so with the guidance of a clear urban design vision, executed with patience, consistency, and skilled program management.
That last point matters more than it is often given credit for. Vision without execution is aspiration. The discipline that connects the two is where the real work of urban design lives.
People of all ages enjoy activities and socializing in a lively community plaza
Designing Cities Worth Living In
Urban design is ultimately about human dignity — about whether the places where people live, work, gather, and move through the world support or diminish their experience of it. That is a high standard. It is also the right one.
At edESTESdesign, urban design is practiced with that standard in view — from master planning and corridor studies to placemaking strategy and public realm design. Every engagement begins with the same question: what does this place owe the people who will inhabit it?
If you are working on a project at the neighborhood, district, or city scale and want a design partner who brings both vision and rigor to the table, we would welcome the conversation.
From Hampton Institute to Roy Wilkins Square, this post explores civic architecture, urban design, and the power of public spaces in community development.
by Ed Estes
Architecture is never just about buildings. It is about the people who move through them, around them, and because of them. It shapes how neighborhoods breathe, how communities gather, and whether the built environment invites belonging or enforces exclusion. That conviction has guided my work across more than four decades — from a transit-oriented thesis project on a pivotal Atlanta corridor to the urban design and community-focused practice I sustain today through edESTESdesign.
Understanding Architectural Impact
Most people experience architecture the way they experience weather — constantly, without quite naming it. A well-placed public plaza draws foot traffic and commerce without anyone consciously choosing to be “activated.” A poorly scaled streetwall silences a block without anyone passing an ordinance to do so. The built environment exerts a quiet but persistent force on how communities function.
A lively public square filled with people contrasts with an empty narrow side street in a historic city.
What distinguishes architectural impact from mere construction is intentionality. When design responds to the real patterns of human movement, economic life, and cultural identity in a place, it can do extraordinary work. When it doesn’t — when it is imposed rather than developed — even technically accomplished buildings can hollow out the communities they were meant to serve.
I came to understand this not abstractly, but through the specific landscapes of Atlanta where I grew up — Historic Collier Heights, the Fair Street corridor, the MLK Jr. Drive and Ashby Street intersection that defined the western edge of my professional imagination long before I knew I was an architectural designer. These were places where design decisions, often made by people far removed from the community, had shaped everyday life in ways both enabling and limiting.
That understanding doesn’t leave you. It becomes the lens through which you evaluate every project.
Case Studies of Community Development
n 1982, my senior thesis at Hampton Institute proposed Roy Wilkins Square — an Office and Shopping Park sited along the MLK Jr. Drive and Ashby Street corridor in Atlanta. The design was transit-oriented before that term had wide currency in American planning discourse. It was grounded in linkage — how the project would connect to the surrounding fabric of the Westside rather than standing apart from it.
Roy Wilkins Square wasn’t a building proposal alone. It was an argument: that design along a historically underinvested corridor could be economically viable, community-scaled, and architecturally distinguished at the same time. That you didn’t have to choose between serving the community and making something worth looking at.
That argument still holds. Across American cities, the most durable examples of community development through architecture share a common trait: they were designed with the communities they serve, not for an imagined demographic that doesn’t yet live there. Projects like the redevelopment of Sweet Auburn in Atlanta, the revitalization of Shaw and Columbia Heights in Washington, DC, and the ongoing transformation of Prince George’s County’s urban corridors all illustrate what is possible when investment, design quality, and community voice align.
The lesson isn’t that architecture saves communities. It’s that architecture done right supports what communities are already trying to become.
Public Spaces and Community Interaction
Community members enjoy a lively, accessible urban plaza with a central fountain and ample seating.
Of all the elements of the built environment, public space may carry the most democratic charge. A well-designed plaza, park, or streetscape belongs to everyone — it is the architecture of civic life itself.
The most effective public spaces do several things simultaneously. They provide room for unplanned encounter — the kind of accidental community-building that no program or event can fully replicate. They accommodate multiple scales of use, from the solitary person reading on a bench to the neighborhood festival that fills every square foot. And they signal, through their design quality, that the people who use them matter.
Urban furniture, shade, lighting, accessibility, cultural signage, ground-floor activation — none of these are decorative extras. They are the infrastructure of public life. Get them right, and a space becomes a neighborhood asset. Get them wrong, and the space either empties or gets avoided entirely.
Future Trends in Urban Architecture
The pressures reshaping urban architecture today are not subtle. Climate adaptation, housing affordability, mobility transformation, demographic shift, and the ongoing reckoning with how American cities were shaped by exclusion — these are not trends to track from a distance. They are the conditions under which every serious urban project must now be designed.
People enjoy a sunny day at a lively mixed-use urban community with shops, cafes, and green spaces.
A few directions are particularly significant:
Climate-responsive design is moving from a specialty consideration to a baseline expectation. Buildings and urban spaces that manage heat, water, and energy as part of their fundamental design logic — rather than as add-on systems — will define the next generation of urban architecture. For communities that bear disproportionate climate risk, this isn’t an aesthetic preference. It’s a survival question.
Mixed-use, transit-oriented development continues to demonstrate its value in cities serious about reducing car dependency and expanding affordable access to economic opportunity. The principles my 1982 thesis was built on are, if anything, more urgently relevant now than they were then.
Community co-design is slowly but genuinely gaining ground as a legitimate professional practice rather than a public relations exercise. The difference between consultation and co-design is meaningful: in co-design, the community shapes the program, not just responds to a pre-formed proposal. When architects commit to this approach, the results tend to be more durable, more used, and more valued.
The adaptive reuse of existing building stock — commercial, institutional, and industrial — offers one of the most compelling opportunities for urban community development in the years ahead. Converting underutilized assets into housing, community space, and mixed-use anchors is not only environmentally sound; it is a way of keeping communities rooted in the physical fabric of their own history.
The future of urban architecture will be shaped by whether the profession can hold these technical, social, and environmental imperatives together — and by whether the communities most affected by design decisions have genuine power in making them.
Ed Estes is the founder of edESTESdesign, a multi-disciplinary practice in architectural design, urban design, graphic design, and digital content design based in Prince George’s County, Maryland. He is also the Founder and Executive Director of the Hampton University Architecture Alumni Association (HUAAA) and a Hampton (Institute) University Class of 1982 alumnus.
The Rise of Mixed-Use Developments: Building Communities, Not Just Buildings
Today’s most vibrant urban spaces aren’t purely residential, commercial, or recreational—they’re purposefully designed as hybrid ecosystems where living, working, shopping, dining, and cultural engagement coexist within walkable districts.
Mixed-use development represents a fundamental shift in how cities are conceived. Rather than the segregated zoning patterns of mid-20th century urban planning, contemporary projects intentionally integrate diverse functions to create economically resilient, socially dynamic neighborhoods that serve residents 24/7.
Why Mixed-Use Works
Mixed-use development addresses several critical urban challenges simultaneously:
Economic vibrancy: Ground-floor retail supports permanent jobs and foot traffic that activates streets at all hours
Walkability: Proximity of housing to employment, services, and entertainment reduces car dependency
Housing affordability: Diverse property types within the same development—penthouses, studios, family units—can create economic diversity
Street safety: Continuous human activity creates natural surveillance and social cohesion
Sustainability: Efficient use of infrastructure, shared parking, and reduced transportation needs lower environmental impact
Contemporary Examples Reshaping Cities
The Vessel sculpture at Hudson Yards surrounded by high-rise buildings and visitors
Hudson Yards, New York City combines 28 million square feet of office space, luxury residential towers, boutique hotels, cultural venues (including the Shed performance space), dining, and retail—all connected by elevated pedestrian walkways. The intentional mix creates a self-contained urban ecosystem while integrating with the broader West Side neighborhood.
People enjoy an evening stroll and dining near the waterfront in a bustling city district
Canary Wharf, London transformed a derelict dockland into a mixed-use development blending finance headquarters, residential apartments, schools, cultural facilities, and extensive public space. The deliberate diversity has shifted London’s economic geography and become a model for post-industrial urban regeneration.
The illuminated Singapore skyline reflects on Marina Bay during twilight.
Singapore’s Marina Bay demonstrates how mixed-use development can anchor entire urban districts. Residential towers, offices, museums, theaters, shopping malls, and parks are integrated within walking distance, creating a 24-hour neighborhood that serves multiple functions simultaneously.
Empowering Communities through Inclusive Design
The most successful mixed-use developments recognize that community needs extend beyond commerce. Affordable housing components, community centers, schools, libraries, and public gathering spaces aren’t afterthoughts—they’re fundamental to the development’s DNA.
Projects like Tysons, Virginia and The Arsenal Yards in Boston demonstrate that truly inclusive mixed-use development requires:
Economic integration: A percentage of units reserved for workforce and affordable housing
Cultural accessibility: Public plazas, parks, and facilities open to all, not just paying customers
Community ownership: Local businesses, not just national chains; support for minority-owned enterprises
Public participation: Meaningful community input during design, not token engagement after decisions are made
The Architecture of Collaboration: Architects, Planners, and Communities Co-Creating Places
The romantic image of the solitary architect sketching a masterpiece is exactly that—romantic fiction. Today’s most transformative urban projects are born from intense, often contentious collaboration between architects, urban planners, engineers, civic leaders, and the communities those projects will serve.
Beyond Top-Down Design
Traditional urban design flowed downward: visionaries proposed, governments approved, and communities adapted. The best contemporary practice inverts this hierarchy. Community input doesn’t arrive after design is complete; it shapes the design from inception.
This collaborative model recognizes a fundamental truth: architects and planners don’t live in the places they design (at least not primarily). Communities do. Their lived experience, cultural values, mobility challenges, and aspirations are irreplaceable design intelligence.
Discovery & Listening: Before sketching, teams conduct extensive community engagement—walking tours, pop-up studios, demographic analysis, and listening sessions that map both assets and pain points. Projects like The 606 in Chicago began with years of listening to residents about what the abandoned elevated rail corridor could become.
Co-Design: Rather than present a finished vision, architects facilitate design thinking workshops where community members participate in envision potential futures. This isn’t tokenism—it’s genuine problem-solving where expertise (professional and experiential) informs decision-making together.
Iteration: Design evolves through feedback loops. Proposals are shared, critiqued, refined, and reshared. Projects like the Huntington Park renovation in Cleveland involved dozens of iterations based on community input.
Stewardship: Collaboration doesn’t end at opening day. Successful projects establish ongoing community governance structures that guide implementation and evolution.
When Collaboration Creates Magic
The Rebuild Foundation’s 69 E69th Street, Chicago transformed a vacant lot through intensive community engagement. Rather than imposing a vision, architects worked with residents to create a flexible community gathering space that evolved with neighborhood needs.
People gather outside a vibrant community center with market and arts spaces
Bryant Park, New York City was radically reimagined through collaboration between landscape architects, business improvement district executives, and neighborhood residents. The result: one of the city’s most beloved public spaces, designed to serve diverse users from workers to tourists.
A vibrant view of Bryant Park surrounded by the skyscrapers of Midtown Manhattan.
The High Line Elevated Park, New York succeeded not because it was a brilliant architectural concept (though it was), but because community advocates like Friends of the High Line spent years listening to neighbors’ concerns and shaping the design to serve local needs while creating citywide value.
People enjoying a sunny day walking and sitting on the elevated park pathway in the city
Legitimacy: Communities support what they helped create
Context sensitivity: Local knowledge prevents costly missteps
Equity: Diverse voices prevent projects from serving only affluent users
Sustainability: Community-centered design has longer lifespans and deeper social value
Innovation: Cross-disciplinary thinking generates solutions no single expert would devise alone
The best urban designers today aren’t ego-driven visionaries—they’re orchestrators of expertise, facilitators of diverse perspectives, and stewards of democratic participation in shaping public space.
Government Initiatives: Policy and Investment Catalyzing Architectural Innovation
Great architecture rarely emerges from market forces alone. Government policy, zoning reform, and strategic investment are the scaffolding upon which innovative urban places are built.
Policy Frameworks Enabling Innovation
Form-Based Codes replace restrictive zoning that mandates separation of uses with regulations focused on the form buildings take and how they meet streets. This shift—prioritizing walkability and mixed-use integration—has enabled projects like Portland’s Pearl District and Miami’s Wynwood to thrive.
Inclusionary Zoning Policies require or incentivize developers to include affordable housing within market-rate projects. While imperfect, these policies address the housing affordability crisis that plagues American cities. Cities like San Francisco and New York have embedded affordability requirements into development approvals.
Transit-Oriented Development (TOD) Policy concentrates zoning density and investment around public transit. Rather than sprawling car-dependent development, TOD policy bundles housing, mixed-use development, and transportation infrastructure to create walkable communities. Arlington, Virginia’s Rosslyn-Ballston Corridor shows how deliberate TOD policy can transform communities.
Adaptive Reuse Incentives through tax credits and streamlined approval processes encourage historic preservation while generating new uses. The federal historic tax credit has catalyzed billions in private investment in adaptive reuse projects.
Government Investment in Public Space
Public space isn’t a market commodity—it’s infrastructure that markets reward but governments must fund.
Placemaking Initiatives like Bloomberg’s Placemaking Program transformed underutilized public spaces by funding temporary installations, events, and programming that demonstrated latent community potential. These investments often catalyzed private development and permanent improvements.
Public Art Integration funded through percent-for-art ordinances embeds cultural value into urban environments. Cities like Seattle have mandated that a percentage of development costs fund public art, resulting in vibrant civic experiences.
Parks and Greenway Investment like Atlanta’s BeltLine, funded through a combination of public bonds and public-private partnerships, catalyzed economic revitalization while improving public health, environmental quality, and equity of access to recreation.
International Models Worth Learning
Copenhagen’s Climate Adaptation Strategies demonstrate government-led innovation. Rather than treating flood management as purely engineering, the city created attractive climate adaptation landscapes—sunken parks and bioswales that manage stormwater while providing recreational amenities.
Seoul’s Cheonggyecheon Restoration involved government-mandated removal of a freeway and restoration of a buried stream. What seemed economically illogical became a transformational public space that generates immense civic value and economic activity.
Barcelona’s Superblocks Initiative reorganizes traffic patterns to prioritize pedestrians and cyclists over vehicles. The government restructured street hierarchies and speed limits to create car-free neighborhoods that increased social interaction and public health.
Singapore’s Housing Development Board demonstrates how government can solve housing affordability through direct provision. Rather than relying on market-rate development, Singapore builds public housing that serves diverse income levels while maintaining quality architecture and community spaces.
The Infrastructure Gap
Despite policy frameworks and demonstrated models, American cities face a critical funding gap. Infrastructure investment remains insufficient for the retrofitting, transit expansion, and public space improvement that cities need. Cities that innovate do so often despite budget constraints, not because of adequate public investment.
The federal infrastructure bills represent a partial correction to decades of underinvestment, but channeling those funds toward innovation—rather than merely maintaining aging systems—requires visionary governance and technical capacity.
What Works: Policy Lessons for Innovative Urban Development
Clear vision: Cities with coherent long-term visions (Vancouver’s EcoDensity Initiative, Portland’s sustainability goals) attract development aligned with community values
Expedited approval: Remove bureaucratic barriers for projects meeting sustainability and equity criteria
Mixed financing: Combine public investment, tax incentives, and private capital rather than relying on any single funding source
Equity as requirement: Make affordability, minority-owned business support, and community benefit non-negotiable components of public investment
Flexibility over prescription: Allow developers and designers freedom to innovate within policy frameworks, rather than mandating specific solutions
Regional coordination: Prevent sprawl and maximize infrastructure investment efficiency through coordinated policy across jurisdictions
The Convergence: When Communities, Professionals, and Governments Align
The transformational urban projects of our era aren’t accidents. They emerge when three forces align:
Community aspiration: Neighborhoods articulate what they need and deserve
Professional expertise: Architects, planners, and engineers synthesize that vision into buildable, beautiful, sustainable form
Government commitment: Policy, zoning, and investment create the conditions where ambitious projects become economically feasible
Projects like Toronto’s St. Lawrence neighborhood (community-driven mixed-use development with government support), Melbourne’s cultural precinct (government investment attracting architectural talent), and Portland’s comprehensive sustainability integration (clear policy enabling private innovation) demonstrate that this alignment is possible.
The trajectory of urban development is shifting away from isolated towers and sprawling suburbs toward denser, more mixed, more collaborative, and more accountable approaches to shaping cities. This shift isn’t driven by single visionaries or pure market forces—it’s driven by communities demanding better, governments investing in shared futures, and architects willing to listen, collaborate, and serve purposes larger than their own creative expression.
That’s where design visioneering becomes design action.
The Opportunity for edESTESdesign
Whether you’re developing mixed-use projects that serve entire neighborhoods, stewarding collaborative design processes that bring diverse perspectives into alignment, or working with government partners to translate policy into transformational built outcomes, the framework is the same: listen deeply, design inclusively, and measure success not by architectural applause but by the quality of lives lived in the spaces you create.
That’s architecture with purpose. That’s design that matters.
Despite wide diversity, city-states in Ancient Greece were united by a common design system that structured their architectural landscape.
Cities occupied a special place in ancient culture in Greece since they were relatively independent units not only economically but also militarily and politically.
Initially, settlements grew organically without a common design idea. However, later, ancient Greeks began to rebuild their towns and plan public areas according to certain universal rules.
The city layout usually had a rectangular structure. Streets and houses were arranged in such a way that their inhabitants could access water, have a lot of sunlight, and be surrounded by bountiful landscapes.
Inventor of urban design
Hippodamus, an ancient Greek architect and urban planner, is considered to be the founder of this system.
He introduced a new principle of city planning, which was characterized by geometric shapes and straight wide streets intersecting at right angles.
Commissioned by Pericles around the middle of the 5th century BC, Hippodamus developed a plan for Piraeus, the port of Athens. He is also credited as the one who designed Ancient Rhodes, which is now roughly under the entire modern city.
Thus, the settlements were built and designed according to certain beliefs and had much in common.
Ancient agora
Thessaloniki ancient roman Agora. Credit: Marco Verch / Flickr CC BY 2.0
The agora was the heart and center of the hectic life of any city in Ancient Greece. It was a large open space where people met, socialized, traded, discussed political issues, and gave lectures.
They were shaped as squares or rectangles and spacious enough to host plenty of shops and markets. Those squares were located close to the center and all main city roads led to them.
Temples in ancient cities
The 🏛Temple of Artemis, also known as the Temple of Diana, was a monumental ancient Greek temple located in the city of Ephesus, which is in present-day Turkey. It was dedicated to the goddess Artemis (known as Diana in Roman mythology), who was the Greek goddess of hunting,… pic.twitter.com/hDgBKRPp7m
Ancient Greek temples positioned around the Agora were dedicated to patron gods like Athena for Athens and Zeus for Olympia. These sanctuaries were designed with luxury in mind and decorated with frescoes and precious statues. A distinctive feature was the outer colonnade encircling the temple.
The towering sculptures of deities stood tall in the center for attention. Constructed from materials such as marble and bronze, these figures depicted gods standing or seated on lavish thrones.
Temples were part of sacred complexes, often featuring gardens and fountains. Entry was reserved for priests, while citizens participated in religious life through festive processions and offerings at altars outside.
A stoa, or covered walkway, lined the streets and provided shelter for pedestrians. These spaces encouraged people to gather, converse, and share news.
These structures looked like free-standing walkways with a long wall and a row of columns in front of it.
Frequently, they served to mark the agora’s borders, while the rear wall had special openings to shops where merchants sold their wares.
Theaters in Ancient Greek cities
Ancient Theater of Epidaurus. Credit: Carole Raddato / CC-BY-SA-2.0 / Wikimedia Commons
Theaters, alongside agoras, held significance in ancient Greek urban landscapes. These open-air structures were predominantly semicircular, utilizing the natural slope of hills to create amphitheater-like arrangements.
The tiered steps were segmented into wedges by stairs extending from lower to upper seats. Low railings enclosed the edge seats, while the first row featured stone backs reserved for dignitaries, priests, and esteemed guests.
Typically, a theater featured a circular and level space called the orchestra, which was separated from the front row by a low barrier.
Initially covered with sand and later paved with stone slabs, theaters could typically accommodate crowds of ten to twenty thousand people.
Residential areas
The dwelling homes of the ancient Greeks were quite different from the richly decorated buildings of public significance. As for their own residences, they preferred simplicity and conciseness.
Here is how would be a house look like in Ancient Greece. You can see that the rooms are around an open-air courtyard that might have a well and a small altar, the andron (mens' room) and gynaeceum (women's room) since normally men and women ate and worked apart. pic.twitter.com/M9Wru7r1ym
The houses of upper class families have been studied most extensively. As a rule, they were quite low and consisted of one or two floors. The premises faced the street with blank walls, and all life was concentrated in the courtyard. This open area was the main source of natural light, and the inhabitants used it for cooking, raising animals, and building religious shrines. There was also a place for heating in winter and a well with fresh water.
According to the general design plan, there were covered passages along the perimeter of the courtyard, which eventually turned into a colonnade. This type of Greek interior later became known as the peristyle.
The houses consisted of two or three rooms, the floors of which were adobe or stone. Wealthy people often chose more expensive marble tiles for flooring.
In ancient times, homes innovatively featured bathrooms supplied with water through pipes. The air in the room was at a comfortable temperature due to wind heating from the hearth of the next room. As for lighting, the owners of ancient Greek houses used resin torches.
Sectors for men and women
Within many households, a distinct feature emerged in the form of a designated men’s chamber, known as the andron. These rooms were typically elevated on platforms, representing the main and most decorative space in the house. The andron served as the epicenter of social activities, hosting guests and celebrations. A prevailing notion suggests these spaces were solely utilized by men.
In parallel, the women’s space, known as gynaeceum, found their place either on the second floors or secluded private sections towards the back parts of the building.
Defensive walls in city design
Defensive walls were most often erected from stones and bricks. Credit: Jorge-Lascar / CC-BY-2.0 / Wikimedia Commons
Massive walls around cities were a necessary and indispensable element of the urban structure to protect against raids from neighboring enemies.
Stones and bricks were the most commonly used materials for building defensive walls. Such structures also often included towers and gates for observation and repelling hostile attacks. Sometimes walls extended all the way to the city’s seaport so that new supplies could flow into the city during a siege.
The only ancient Greek city that did not have defensive walls was Sparta. The legendary legislator Lycurgus said that a well-fortified city is one surrounded by a wall of men rather than a wall of bricks. The ancient Spartans considered themselves invincible warriors, so they were proud of having no special urban constructions for protection.
shenzhen’s tech growth translates to design innovation
The Róng Museum of Art, designed by Büro Ole Scheeren, is taking shape in Shenzhen’s Nanshan District as a cultural institution embedded within a larger urban campus. With its organic surfaces and glimmering facade, the project signals a shift across the Chinese city where growth in technology is translating into the creation of landmark cultural spaces. Inside, the museum focuses on visual culture across the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, with works on view bridging art, architecture, design, and film.
visualizations courtesy Büro Ole Scheeren
büro ole scheeren clusters five organic buildings
The architects at Büro Ole Scheeren define Róng Museum of Art in Shenzhen by five sculptural volumes that rise from slender bases and expand as they ascend. These elevated pavilions hold the primary exhibition spaces, while their separation from the ground creates a shaded public plaza beneath. The effect is immediate on approach, with the building hovering above a continuous surface that remains open to the city.
This ground level operates as a naturally ventilated forum, protected from sun and rain yet fully accessible. A large skylight draws daylight down into the space, where people can pass through, gather, or pause without needing to enter the galleries above. The museum extends outward here, functioning as part of the public realm rather than a contained object.
five elevated volumes lift the galleries above a shaded public plaza
the facade of suspended glass tubes
The exterior is formed through horizontal layers that step back as Shenzhen’s Róng museum of Art rises, shaping each volume into a tapered form. Around this, a second skin of suspended glass tubes creates a textured envelope. These elements are parametrically designed to generate a surface that shifts in density and depth across the facade.
Light enters the building through this layered system as a filtered condition. The glass diffuses sunlight during the day, reducing heat gain while maintaining a soft interior brightness. At night, the facade emits a steady glow as individual tubes can be illuminated in sequence which gives the building a visible presence across the skyline.
The glass tubes serve multiple roles beyond enclosure. Their spacing allows for airflow, while their density provides shading, contributing to the building’s overall energy performance. The structure also collects rainwater across its upper surfaces and directs it toward retention areas at ground level for reuse.
the open ground level functions as a continuous civic space throughout the day
inside the upcoming róng museum of art
Movement through the Róng Museum of Art follows a gradual upward path. A stair traces the outer edge of the structure, leading visitors from the plaza to the galleries and eventually to a rooftop garden. The route stays close to the facade, offering shifting views of the surrounding district and the waterfront beyond.
Volumes combine into a flexible exhibition sequence. A double height space accommodates larger installations, while adjacent areas allow for varied scales of display. The organization supports different modes of viewing, from focused encounters to more open circulation.
a central skylight brings daylight into the covered plaza below
a parametric skin of suspended glass tubes creates a textured envelope
organic surfaces shape cavernous interiors illuminated by filtered light
connections to bridges and transit integrate the museum into the city network
Africa is experiencing a mini-boom in skyscraper construction, with new towers rising in Egypt, Ethiopia, Ivory Coast and more. But are they symbols of progress or just vanity projects? Dezeen editor-at-large Amy Frearson investigates.
The Tour F in Abidjan, Ivory Coast, will soon become the continent’s tallest building, expected to reach its full 421-metre height later this year.
It will steal the title from the 394-metre Iconic Tower in Cairo, Egypt, which became Africa’s first completed supertall – a title given to buildings over 300 metres – when it opened in 2024.
High-rise building gathering pace
The situation is in stark contrast to a decade ago, when the Carlton Centre in Johannesburg, South Africa, was still the only African building to surpass the 200-metre mark.
This 201-metre tower was the continent’s tallest for 46 years, but it looks like it will be pushed out of the top 10 in the coming months.
A spate of recent completions includes the 250-metre Mohammed VI Tower in Salé, Morocco, finished in 2023, and the 209-metre Commercial Bank of Ethiopia Headquarters in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, built in 2021. Many more are scheduled for this year.
The rate of development still pales in comparison to North America and Asia, but it appears to be gaining pace, which has triggered concerns.
The 421-metre Tour F in Abidjan, Ivory Coast, is set to become Africa’s tallest building. It is due to complete this year. Photo by Zaizone via Wikimedia Commons
“The rapid rise of skyscraper construction across African cities raises critical questions around identity, power, climate and urban futures, particularly as many cities navigate growth through imported models rather than locally rooted architectural logics,” he told Dezeen.
“I think it’s essential to unpack both the opportunities and the risks this brings,” he said. “And to ask whether verticality can meaningfully respond to African contexts rather than simply replicate global templates.”
Degan is not opposed to skyscrapers in African cities per se, but he wants to see models that reflect African cultural identity.
“I think there have been missed opportunities to see skyscrapers as a way of identifying a nation,” he said. “I would love to see a Moroccan skyscraper or a Nigerian skyscraper.”
But what’s fuelling this mini-boom, and can we expect it to continue?
According to Jason M Barr, professor of economics at Rutgers University-Newark, the data points to a link between African skyscraper construction and economic growth.
“Iconic buildings can benefit African cities, but the economics must work”
Statistics from the Council on Vertical Urbanism reveal that South Africa and Egypt, Africa’s two largest economies, account for around 75 per cent of all buildings of more than 30 storeys in the continent.
Egypt also has more of the tallest buildings under construction than the rest of Africa combined, in both Cairo and the nation’s new capital.
“If you look at the breakdown of usages for all 30-plus-storey buildings in Africa, most are offices, residential or mixed-use buildings, which are compatible with the economic need for tall buildings,” he told Dezeen.
The 394-metre Iconic Tower in Cairo, Egypt, became Africa’s first supertall when it completed in 2024. Photo by Mohamed Ouda via Wikimedia Commons
Barr argues that African cities can benefit from the power of tall buildings as “confidence boosters”. He said that few appear to be “white elephants” – built as status symbols rather than to meet a real need or demand.
“Iconic buildings can benefit African cities, but the underlying economics of these buildings must work – that is to say, the revenues paid by the occupants must cover the construction and operating costs,” he said.
“Given the history of economic and political troubles in Africa, we tend to associate Africa’s rising towers as emerging from that milieu,” he added. “But rather, its rising towers appear to reflect these countries’ desire to join the global community.”
Nigerian architect Tosin Oshinowo is more sceptical. She sees a clear divide between skyscrapers rising in Egypt and those going up in other African cities.
“A skyscraper is ultimately a symbol of progress,” she said. “I see countries in Africa beginning to think in that capacity, not because the economies are strong enough to achieve it, but because they want to present the narrative.”
“Is this what Africa needs? I don’t think so”
As Oshinowo points out, Africa accounts for just under three per cent of global GDP and doesn’t have the same issues of land availability as other territories, such as Europe or the Middle East.
It leads her to question whether developments like Eko Atlantic City, a huge new high-rise district being built in her home city of Lagos, are appropriate. She believes density could be achieved in buildings that are more African in their scale and approach.
“The world has a narrative of what we consider progress, and anything that deviates from that is just not seen as progressive,” she said.
“But there are many ways that we can solve these problems, so it doesn’t merit the justification of this symbol. And is this symbol what the continent needs? I don’t think so.”
Oshinowo cites Africa’s shortage of steel manufacturing as one reason why skyscrapers make less sense here.
It’s expensive to import, so local contractors don’t have the necessary construction expertise. Many of the skyscrapers now under construction are being built by Chinese companies.
Electricity is another problem; unlike North Africa, cities in West and Sub-Saharan Africa regularly experience power outages.
“The tall building requires certain infrastructure and amenities that we don’t have as standard,” Oshinowo said.
“When you bring in a typology that requires them, it’s a very different ballgame. What happens if you’re in the lift and the power goes out?”
But Belgian architect and construction consultant Hans Degraeuwe, who has been working in Africa for over 15 years and lives part-time in Lagos, argues that high-rise building may be a necessity as cities develop further.
The 209-metre Commercial Bank of Ethiopia Headquarters became the tallest building in Addis Ababa in 2021, but will soon be overtaken by the 327-metre Ethiopian Electric Power Headquarters. Photo by Fanuel Leul via Unsplash
“Unlike the urban sprawl that happened in America, Africa has to go vertical because it cannot simply afford to make the road infrastructure, power infrastructure or data infrastructure,” he told Dezeen.
Backed by a sovereign wealth fund, Degraeuwe is currently developing a model for customisable, modular high-rises, with plans to roll out different versions on 24 test sites across Africa pre-fabricated in Lagos.
He believes that prefabrication technologies could offer an answer to issues around not just skyscraper construction expertise but utility shortages – with the buildings themselves providing basic infrastructure for entire neighbourhoods.
“The skyscrapers we want are not just five-star hotels,” he said. “We want to have a hotel combined with a hostel, a medical clinic and a water-purification station.”
“I’m trying to create vertical communities that mix different functions, including affordable housing.”
Whether this low-rise continent manages to adapt models of vertical urbanism to fit its needs remains to be seen. Either way, the high-rise trend isn’t showing signs of slowing just yet.
The main photograph is by Youssef Abdelwahab via Unsplash.
Nordic Office of Architecture with Haptic Architects, Scenario, and I-d. Interiørarkitektur & Design completes the first phase of Norway’s New Government Quarter in Oslo, on the site of the July 22nd, 2011, terrorist attacks, reopening the political center of the country as a reconfigured civic landscape. The masterplanconsolidates nearly all Norwegian ministries into a compact campus for around 4,100 employees. Framed as a ‘design for democracy,’ the project brings government functions together while restoring pedestrian routes, public plazas, and daily urban life to an area long defined by trauma and security barriers.
The masterplan arranges five new and two restored buildings as a ring of ministries around interconnected public spaces, stitching the quarter back into Oslo’s historic center. Phase 1 includes the restored Høyblokken alongside the new A- and D-blocks, forming what the architects describe as a public ‘front line’ facing the city. The retained G-block and future phases complete a walkable campus that balances visibility and discretion. ‘The New Government Quarter is now part of Oslo’s everyday life rather than an isolated enclave,’says Knut Hovland, Partner and Head of Design at Nordic Office of Architecture.
New Government Quarter phase one opens to the public
Previously, the former Y-block and surrounding road infrastructure had created a car-centric enclave. In its place, the Norway-, Denmark- and Iceland-based architectslink Hammersborg, the city center, and the fjord through reopened streets, refreshed plazas at Johan Nygaardsvolds plass and Einar Gerhardsens plass, and new pedestrian and cycling connections. A future public park, Regjeringsparken, designed with SLA and Bjørbekk & Lindheim, will introduce open lawns, native planting, and clear sightlines that maintain both accessibility and security.
At the center of Phase 1 stands the A-block and its 51-meter-high Pyramid Hall, a timber-lined atrium that functions as both lobby and symbolic heart. The space is animated by Outi Pieski’s AAhkA (Mother Earth), a vertically rising artwork that addresses Sámi history and indigenous futurism. Generous glazing, visible circulation, and open ground floors position the building as a permeable threshold between state and citizen. ‘From day one, the question was how to create a place that symbolizes Norwegian democracy and identity. We were asked to design a secure government district, but also a place where people feel welcome to walk, sit, protest and remember – a government quarter that belongs to the whole of Norway,’reflects Gudmund Stokke, founding partner and head of design at Nordic Office of Architecture.
Bridges and shared social zones form what the team calls the Collaboration District, connecting ministries at the first-floor level and encouraging cross-departmental exchange. Internally, modular floor plates and flexible office layouts are designed to adapt to evolving political structures and digital work practices over decades.
the first phase of Norway’s New Government Quarter in Oslo is completed
embedding security in landscape and long-term sustainability
The architecture responds directly to the post-2011 dilemma of reconciling security with public trust. Protective measures are integrated into landscape design, building envelopes, and controlled vehicle access. Clear sightlines, active ground levels, cafés, and accessible gardens invite everyday use.
Material choices root the complex in Norwegian geology and craft traditions. Larvikite stone clads facades and public surfaces, selected for durability and long-term patina. Locally sourced timber from Nordmarka brings warmth to interiors, while boatbuilders Risør Båtbyggeri, in collaboration with Biko, contributed to the double-curved wooden surfaces and sculpted stair elements. The buildings are designed to meet BREEAM-NOR Excellent standards, incorporating seawater-based heating and cooling, low-carbon concrete, and detailed envelopes to reduce operational energy demand. Approximately 20 percent of the 15,800 furniture items in Phase 1 are reused from previous government buildings, aligning circularity with continuity.
reopening the political center of the country as a reconfigured civic landscape
art as memory and continuity
Curated and produced by KORO, the quarter hosts Norway’s largest public art program, comprising around 300 new and re-sited works. Artworks bearing visible traces of the 2011 attack have been conserved and relocated, forming a distributed memorial embedded in daily use.
The collection includes Pablo Picasso’s sandblasted concrete mural. The Fishermen, relocated from the former Y-block to the southwest facade of the A-block; Do Ho Suh’s Grass Roots Square, a field of approximately 50,000 small bronze figures supporting stone slabs at Einar Gerhardsen’s plass; and Jumana Manna’s 800-square-meter mosaic Sebastia at Johan Nygaardsvolds plass, composed of stone offcuts donated by municipalities across Norway, turning the plaza into a literal ‘city floor.’ The project also incorporates the public 22 July Centre, dedicated to the events of July 22nd, 2011, and anticipates the unveiling of the new National 22 July Memorial in summer 2026, marking 15 years since the attacks.
the masterplan consolidates nearly all Norwegian ministries into a compact campus for around 4,100 employees
a national commission
Commissioned by the Ministry of Digitalisation and Public Administration with Statsbygg as developer, the project was awarded in 2017 to the Team Urbis consortium led by Nordic Office of Architecture. Phase 1 was delivered on time and within the parliamentary budget frame of NOK 24.7 billion and is expected to be completed for more than NOK 2 billion under this ceiling.
‘The New Government Quarter is a once-in-a-generation commission that demonstrates how architecture, landscape, engineering and art can come together on one of the most sensitive sites in Norway,’says Eskild Andersen, CEO and Partner at Nordic Office of Architecture. ‘It transforms a closed government district into an open civic heart for Oslo and the country, where everyday government and everyday life converge.’ With Phase 2 set to begin in 2026 and complete by 2030, the quarter remains a long-term national project.
framed as a ‘design for democracy’
the project brings government functions together
the space is animated by Outi Pieski’s AAhkA (Mother Earth)
Phase 1 includes the restored Høyblokken alongside the new A- and D-blocks
a public ‘front line’ facing the city
the masterplan arranges five new and two restored buildings as a ring of ministries
the architecture responds directly to the post-2011 dilemma of reconciling security with public trust
clear sightlines, active ground levels, cafés, and accessible gardens invite everyday use
1/5
historic terrazzo column and vertical timber paneling highlight material continuity across old and new
a sculpted timber staircase spirals through the atrium
a large-scale mural animates the collaboration district
the prime minister’s meeting room combines stone, timber ceilings, and curated norwegian design pieces
The new renderings give a sense of what the fan experience will look like on the ground.
Visuals reveal the stadium’s perimeter shrouded in vegetation and a new spherocylindrical, capsule-shaped grass lawn for tailgating, concerts, etc. The lawn feeds into a plaza that fronts the main entry.
New renderings show the perimeter shrouded in vegetation. (Courtesy Washington Commanders)
Updated renderings also show how the stadium will appear from three major access points: East Capitol Street Northeast, the Whitney Young Memorial Bridge, and East Capitol Street Southeast.
The stadium’s concave profile will maintain sight lines from East Capitol Street Southeast of the Capital Building and Washington Monument, according to the renderings.
Architecturally speaking, the new renderings also show subtle changes in the columns.
A large grass lawn will host tailgates and concerts. (Courtesy Washington Commanders)View from East Capitol Street Southeast shows the roof of the U.S. Capitol Building and Washington Monument towering up over the roof of the stadium. (Courtesy Washington Commanders)
The last batch of renderings by HKS was issued in January; the tranche showed the stadium’s form and how it will axially respond to the U.S. Capitol Building and the Washington Monument, in alignment with the L’Enfant Plan.
Conceptual drawings by HKS were subsequently submitted to the National Capital Planning Commission (NCPC) for consideration on February 5. NCPC chairman Will Scharf called the design by HKS “a really incredible stadium,” while others said there was room for improvement.
Paul Ingrassia, General Services Administration acting general counsel, noted he appreciated “the references to classical architecture,” by HKS but said the columns could be redesigned to “convey a sense of heft and gravity for when people enter.”
As per Ingrassia’s direction, this latest cache shows the profile intact, albeit with perhaps more Greco-Roman influence in the columns, which seem to be different in plan.
A tall, vertical void is located at the outset of the columns, per the new renderings, creating a sense of depth and shadows.
View from Whitney Young Memorial Bridge (Courtesy Washington Commanders)
The roofed stadium will ultimately be able to host 70,000 people and serve as an anchor of a mixed-use development. HKS noted 30 percent of the 180-acre site will be open space.
Vertical construction is anticipated to begin in spring 2027, and full completion is scheduled for 2030.
The Washington Commanders noted the design process is ongoing; the franchise is still seeking input from stakeholders, city officials, and community members.
For me, the answer is my mother, Emellen Mitchell Estes. Long before I was designing urban spaces or serving as Mayor, she was the one who gave me the “zoning permits” to build imaginary cities in our backyard in Atlanta.
An educator at heart, Emellen was a graduate of two iconic HBCUs—Morris Brown College and Atlanta University, now known as Clark-Atlanta University. She served as a teacher and Principal in the Atlanta Public Schools during the segregated 50s, 60s, and 70s. Despite the challenges of the era, she and my father fostered my passion for art, architecture, and the performing arts.
A tribute to Emellen Mitchell Estes, a dedicated educator and mother, whose influence shaped a legacy in architecture and education.
She didn’t just teach me how to build; she taught me who I was. She shared our rich ancestral history and kept me grounded in faith at the historic Big Bethel AME Church on Auburn Avenue.
I am the architectural designer, urban planner, and graphic & web designer I am today because she believed in the blueprints of my imagination.
The Bradfield Development Authority has revealed the next major milestone in the creation of Australia’s first new city in more than a century, unveiling the master plan and concept design for Bradfield City’s First Land Release, known as Superlot 1.
by Clémence Carayol
Designed by Hassell and Skidmore, Owings & Merrill (SOM), in collaboration with cultural design partners Djinjama and COLA Studio, the ambitious reference design establishes a new benchmark for sustainable, inclusive and future-focused urban development.
The precinct will serve as the physical and symbolic gateway to Bradfield City, setting the tone for its evolution as Western Sydney’s new urban heart.
“We set out to create a precinct where nature and urban life are intertwined, ensuring Bradfield City feels welcoming, sustainable and uniquely of its place,” says Kevin Lloyd, Principal, Hassell.
Delivered by the NSW Government alongside developer and investor Plenary, the First Land Release is envisioned as a vibrant, 24/7 mixed-use precinct that will catalyse investment, innovation and community life.
More than 1,400 new homes will be delivered, including 10 per cent dedicated to affordable housing, alongside commercial, retail and community spaces.
The precinct is strategically positioned within minutes of the new Metro station and the expansive Central Park, reinforcing Bradfield City’s role as a highly connected metropolitan centre.
At the core of the master plan is an ambition to create a place where transport connectivity, urban density and deep respect for Country coexist.
This vision is expressed through the ‘Green Loop’, a 15-metre-wide landscape spine that weaves Moore Gully’s natural systems through the built environment. Shaped by extensive First Nations engagement and informed by Country through cultural design partner Djinjama, the landscape and architecture feel intrinsically connected to place from the outset.
Anchoring the Green Loop is the Community Gathering Space, an intergenerational hub housed within a striking timber pavilion. Its woven canopy of interlocking timber reflects the Aboriginal principle of “Enoughness”, taking only what is needed, offering a sustainable prototype for learning, gathering and connection that exists in harmony with the loop’s water and biodiversity systems.
The precinct’s design prioritises permeability and movement. A fine-grained network of active streets and mid-block pathways promotes walkability, safety and vibrant street life. At ground level, public spaces, retail, lobbies and shared amenities activate street frontages, encouraging daily interaction and participation in community life.
As an economic and cultural anchor for the new city, the First Land Release will integrate a major education campus, a hotel and commercial office spaces, strategically clustered near the Metro to foster a thriving innovation hub.
A diverse housing mix — including student accommodation, affordable housing and market-rate apartments — ensures a truly intergenerational community from day one.
Bradfield City’s First Land Release represents a confident new model for city-making: one that celebrates Country, champions sustainability and innovation, and places community at its core, setting a powerful precedent for Sydney’s newest city.
“To design a new city is both a rare opportunity and a profound responsibility. Bradfield City is a chance to shape a vision with Country and community, embedding resilience, sustainability, and innovation into every layer of the city,” says Michael Powell, Senior Associate Principal, SOM.
Images: Bradfield City First Land Release / supplied
visualizations courtesy Büro Ole Scheeren
five elevated volumes lift the galleries above a shaded public plaza
the open ground level functions as a continuous civic space throughout the day
a central skylight brings daylight into the covered plaza below
a parametric skin of suspended glass tubes creates a textured envelope
organic surfaces shape cavernous interiors illuminated by filtered light
all images by 
the first phase of Norway’s New Government Quarter in Oslo is completed
reopening the political center of the country as a reconfigured civic landscape
the masterplan consolidates nearly all Norwegian ministries into a compact campus for around 4,100 employees
framed as a ‘design for democracy’
the project brings government functions together
the space is animated by Outi Pieski’s AAhkA (Mother Earth)
Phase 1 includes the restored Høyblokken alongside the new A- and D-blocks
a public ‘front line’ facing the city
the masterplan arranges five new and two restored buildings as a ring of ministries
the architecture responds directly to the post-2011 dilemma of reconciling security with public trust
clear sightlines, active ground levels, cafés, and accessible gardens invite everyday use
