Tag Archives: Architecture

MVRDV’s Timber Pavilion Revives a City’s Forgotten Identity

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There’s something magical about architecture that doubles as a love letter to a place. MVRDV just pulled this off in Chiayi, Taiwan, with a temporary pavilion that’s less about showing off and more about remembering what made this city special in the first place.

Picture this: Chiayi is celebrating its 321st birthday, and instead of a generic party tent, the city gets a timber structure that tells the story of its forgotten identity as Taiwan’s wood capital. Over 6,000 historic timber buildings still dot this city, remnants of an era when Chiayi thrived on forestry and woodcraft, yet most residents have lost touch with that heritage.

Designer: MVRDV (Photos by Shephotoerd)

Enter Wooden Wonders, a pavilion that sits right across from city hall and functions as what the architects call an “urban living room.” It’s an apt description. The structure wraps around a central courtyard, creating an intimate gathering space that feels both public and personal. Think of it as the architectural equivalent of pulling up a chair and asking someone to tell you their life story.

What makes this project fascinating is how MVRDV approached the design. Instead of imposing their signature style, they went full detective mode, studying the city’s existing timber buildings to understand the local architectural DNA. What they found was beautifully eclectic: diagonal cuts that emphasize street corners, ornamental rooflines with decorative flourishes, a mix of time periods and influences all woven together. These elements became the blueprint for the pavilion’s perimeter structure, making the new building feel like it grew organically from Chiayi’s architectural family tree.

Inside, the exhibition takes visitors on a journey through wood’s past, present, and future. Pastel-colored gateways (a softer touch than you’d expect from an architecture exhibition) guide people through different zones. There’s a forest-themed area exploring how timber is grown and harvested, and “the workshop,” which celebrates the historic craftsmanship that once defined the region. The exhibition doesn’t just look backward, though. It also positions Chiayi alongside global timber leaders like Norway and New Zealand, showing how engineered timber can bridge traditional culture and contemporary construction.

The timing of this project couldn’t be more relevant. MVRDV founding partner Jacob van Rijs nails it when he says Chiayi’s timber story mirrors a global shift in how we think about building materials. Wood went from practical and abundant to “old-fashioned” when concrete and steel took over. But the climate crisis has flipped the script again. Wood stores carbon; concrete and steel release massive amounts of it into the atmosphere. Add decades of innovation in engineered timber techniques, and suddenly wood isn’t just nostalgic, it’s the future.

In Taiwan specifically, this conversation takes on extra weight. Many people there view timber as less reliable or reputable compared to modern materials, and seismic regulations make working with existing buildings challenging. So this pavilion isn’t just celebrating heritage, it’s making a bold argument about sustainability and what’s possible when you look at old materials with new eyes. The two-story main hall on the north side is where this vision gets practical. Visitors can contribute ideas for Chiayi’s urban development and its potential future as Taiwan’s “Wood Capital.” It’s participatory architecture at its best, a space that doesn’t just talk at people but invites them into the conversation about what their city could become.

What I love about Wooden Wonders is how it manages to be both specific and universal. Yes, it’s deeply rooted in Chiayi’s particular history and architecture. But it also speaks to something bigger: how cities can honor their past while building a more sustainable future. How materials that were once dismissed can become solutions to our most pressing problems. How good design can create space for community and conversation.

The pavilion is only up through December 28, making it a fleeting moment in the city’s long history. But maybe that’s fitting. Sometimes the most powerful statements are temporary ones, just present long enough to remind us what we’ve forgotten and inspire us to imagine what comes next.

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This $119K Tiny House Finally Kills the Awkward Loft Bed

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Climbing into a loft bed loses its charm quickly, especially when you’re half-asleep at 2 AM. The Barred Owl by Rewild Homes acknowledges this reality with a rare approach in tiny house design: everything happens on one level. Built by the Nanaimo, Vancouver Island-based company, this 34-foot tiny house abandons vertical gymnastics for the spacious comfort of apartment-style living.

The difference starts with dimensions. While most North American tiny houses measure 8.5 feet wide, the Barred Owl stretches to 10 feet. That extra 1.5 feet might sound modest on paper, but at the tiny house scale, every inch transforms how a space functions. The added width creates genuine breathing room, allowing the interior to feel less like a cleverly arranged puzzle and more like an actual home. Mounted on a triple-axle trailer, the structure maintains mobility while delivering a footprint substantial enough for full-time living.

Designer: Rewild Homes

The layout flows in railroad apartment fashion, with rooms connecting directly to one another. Entry opens into a bright living room finished in whitewashed pine tongue-and-groove. The galley kitchen features butcherblock counters that wrap into an eating bar doubling as a workspace, practical for the growing number of people who work remotely. A full-size refrigerator, four-burner propane cooktop, and oven eliminate the compromises typically associated with tiny house cooking. The dining area seats two comfortably, functioning equally well for meals or as a dedicated home office.

Sliding barn-style doors lead to the walk-through bathroom, a space that defies tiny house stereotypes about cramped facilities. Inside, a large walk-in shower with carefully chosen tile work sits alongside a proper sink and flushing toilet. Storage space and a washer-dryer unit handle practical necessities without feeling shoehorned in. The bathroom connects to the ground-floor bedroom, where ceiling height allows standing upright, a luxury that loft-based tiny houses simply cannot provide.

The Barred Owl targets people seeking permanent downsizing rather than weekend adventures. Its single-story configuration addresses aging-in-place concerns that most tiny houses ignore. Mobility limitations, balance issues, or simply the desire to avoid ladder climbing at night make this design particularly relevant. The apartment-style layout also appeals to those wanting tiny house benefits like lower costs and reduced environmental impact without sacrificing the floor plan logic of traditional homes.

Rewild Homes finishes the exterior with black metal siding accented by cedar, topped with a standing seam metal roof. A built-in overhang shelters the front entrance, fitted with recessed lighting. The home currently sits unused on private property just north of Nanaimo, available for immediate possession at around US$118,000 after the original purchaser’s circumstances changed. For those willing to pare down possessions but unwilling to sacrifice comfort, the Barred Owl demonstrates that tiny living doesn’t require climbing ladders or compromising on essential amenities. It’s a practical answer to whether downsizing can work long-term without feeling like perpetual camping.

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This Fukasawa Residence Honors Japanese Timber Traditions on a Narrow Plot

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In the quiet residential enclave of Fukasawa, south-west Tokyo, narrow plots and intimate streetscapes create an architectural character that feels worlds away from the metropolitan sprawl surrounding it. This area, bearing the name of renowned designer Naoto Fukasawa, who made it his home, carries a quaint charm reminiscent of older Japanese shopping streets. Within this context, architecture firm MIDW has completed a striking residence that reinterprets traditional building methods for contemporary living.

The house occupies a slender plot measuring just 2.73 metres in width and 13.65 metres in depth. Rather than viewing these proportions as limitations, MIDW embraced them as design opportunities. The structure is defined by six truss-shaped load-bearing walls, their beams spanning gracefully between evenly spaced columns to create a rhythmic structural language that anchors the entire composition.

Designer: MIDW

Daisuke Hattori, co-chairman and managing architect of MIDW, explains the conceptual foundation. The firm frequently draws from local construction techniques, particularly the traditional Japanese timber post-and-beam system. This method, built through the assembly of linear wooden members, offers both structural integrity and visual refinement. It remains among Japan’s most enduring building approaches, balancing flexibility with aesthetic clarity. The Fukasawa residence presents a contemporary dialogue with this heritage. The structural framework isn’t hidden behind finishes or treated as mere utility. Instead, it takes centre stage as a defining architectural element, echoing the exposed timber construction found in historic shrines and temples across Japan. This approach transforms structural necessity into spatial poetry.

Entering the home, visitors encounter a slightly sunken floor plane that marks the transition from street to sanctuary. From this entry point, a carefully choreographed sequence of spaces begins to reveal itself. Light and shadow play across surfaces as one moves through the narrow depth of the plot. A straight staircase draws the eye upward, leading to the upper level where the spatial experience opens considerably.

The upper floor presents a broad, generous volume animated by the repetitive cadence of exposed timber beams. These structural elements create a calming visual rhythm that organizes the space while celebrating the material honesty of wood construction. The beams don’t merely support; they define the character and atmosphere of the interior.

Working within Tokyo’s dense urban fabric presented challenges beyond just dimensional constraints. Material choices and design gestures required careful consideration. Yet MIDW approached the project not as a problem to solve but as an opportunity to develop universal design principles rooted in specific site conditions. The result is a home that feels both distinctly of its place and timelessly resonant, proving that constraint often breeds the most compelling creativity.

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Floating Cities Might Actually Save Us (And They’re Gorgeous)

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You know that feeling when you see a design concept that makes you go “wait, is this for real?” That’s exactly what happened when I came across Novasis, a floating platform project by designer Mohsen Laei that just won the Grand Prix Architecture and Innovation Award for the Sea 2025. And honestly? It’s not just another futuristic pipe dream. This thing might actually change how we think about living with our oceans.

Here’s what makes Novasis so compelling. It’s a scalable floating structure that tackles three massive problems at once: climate change, resource scarcity, and marine ecosystem collapse. Unlike those dystopian visions of humans abandoning land because we’ve wrecked it, this platform is designed for genuine coexistence with the ocean. It cultivates algae on a massive scale, produces renewable energy, creates freshwater, and helps restore marine life, all while being modular, recyclable, and energy independent.

Designer: Mohsen Laei

Let’s talk about the algae part, because it’s actually the star of the show. The platform uses floating and submerged nets made from recycled PET to grow both macro and microalgae. Why does this matter? Algae is ridiculously versatile. It can be turned into biofuel, food supplements, pharmaceuticals, and even carbon-neutral materials. Plus, algae cultivation naturally absorbs carbon dioxide from the atmosphere, making this a genuinely climate-positive system. We’re talking about a design that doesn’t just minimize harm but actually reverses it.

The structure itself is stunning in a practical way. Picture a circular floating platform with a central dome and perimeter walkway that organizes movement across the space. It’s designed to support research facilities, recreational areas, and even habitation. Freshwater gets produced through rainwater harvesting combined with solar and wave-powered desalination, meaning the whole thing functions as a self-sufficient ecosystem. No need to pipe in resources from mainland infrastructure.

What I find most exciting about Novasis is how it reimagines what “development” can look like in coastal and open-ocean contexts. Traditional marine construction tends to be either extractive (oil rigs, commercial fishing) or leisure-focused (luxury resorts, cruise ships). This platform flips that script entirely. It’s designed to be revenue-generating through biomass production and renewable energy, making it economically viable without requiring grants or subsidies.

Laei isn’t new to ambitious ocean-based concepts either. Back in 2021, he proposed Wind Island, another floating structure that combined wind, water, and solar power with residential and research spaces. That project used flag-like blades around a central tower to capture wind energy while creating shade and cooling for the platform below. You can see the evolution of his thinking from that earlier concept to Novasis, where the focus has sharpened on ecosystem restoration and practical resource production.

The timing couldn’t be more relevant. Floating solar farms have been gaining traction as a renewable energy solution, particularly because they preserve land for other uses and can actually help clean nutrient-polluted water. But most floating renewable projects focus on just one function. Novasis integrates multiple systems into one cohesive platform, which makes it far more resilient and useful.

Critics might call this concept too ambitious or unrealistic, but I’d argue we’re past the point where playing it safe makes sense. Our oceans are warming, acidifying, and losing biodiversity at terrifying rates. Coastal cities face rising seas and freshwater shortages. We need solutions that are as complex and interconnected as the problems we’ve created. Novasis offers exactly that: a model for how humans might actually contribute to ocean health rather than just taking from it.

The best part? Because the system is modular, it can scale up or down depending on location and need. Small coastal communities could deploy a single unit. Larger installations could connect multiple platforms into floating networks. The design adapts rather than demanding a one-size-fits-all approach.

I’m genuinely curious to see where this goes. Will we see a working prototype in the next few years? Will governments and private investors recognize the potential here? For now, Novasis stands as proof that design can be both beautiful and functionally revolutionary, that we can build infrastructure that heals rather than harms. And in a world that desperately needs both hope and practical solutions, that feels like something worth getting excited about.

The post Floating Cities Might Actually Save Us (And They’re Gorgeous) first appeared on Yanko Design.

This Extra-Wide Tiny House Has A Ground-Floor Bedroom & A Real Bathtub

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The tiny house movement has always been about intentional living and simplicity, but it’s never demanded that comfort be part of the trade-off. Vancouver Island’s Rewild Homes proves this point brilliantly with the Juniper, an extra-wide tiny house that challenges everything you thought you knew about small-space living. Measuring 34 feet long and just over 10.5 feet wide, the Juniper sits on a triple-axle trailer. Yes, it requires special permits for transport across Canadian roads, but that extra width transforms the entire living experience. Step inside, and the space breathes in ways most tiny houses simply can’t achieve.

Rewild Homes has spent over a decade perfecting their signature blend of rustic warmth and contemporary clean lines. The Juniper’s exterior tells this story immediately. Metal cladding meets cedar siding in a balanced contrast, softened by white window trim and topped with a durable metal roof. The look feels confident without being showy, the kind of design that ages well. This isn’t about clever optical illusions or maximalist storage solutions. It’s about a genuine, comfortable space that feels right the moment you walk through the full-glass entry door.

Designer: Rewild Homes

The real magic reveals itself in the home’s layout. Unlike most tiny houses that force residents up a ladder to a cramped loft, the Juniper offers something almost unheard of: a proper ground-floor bedroom. Located at the far end of the home, this sleeping space accommodates a queen bed with full standing height. The cedar ceiling and whitewashed wood walls create an atmosphere that’s equal parts cozy cabin and modern sanctuary. A barn-style sliding door adds privacy, while a full-glass exterior door floods the room with natural light and provides direct outdoor access. Storage hasn’t been forgotten either. A generous loft sits above the bedroom, perfect for seasonal items and everything else that needs to disappear from daily view.

The bathroom deserves its own spotlight. Full-height ceilings eliminate that hunched-over shower experience common in tiny houses. More impressively, the Juniper includes an actual bathtub—a luxury so rare in this category that it borders on revolutionary. Ample counter space, under-sink storage, a washer/dryer combo, and additional wall cabinets round out a bathroom that rivals many traditional apartments. This thoughtful separation of spaces keeps living areas clean and uncluttered while delivering functionality that doesn’t compromise on comfort.

Built for year-round living, the home runs on electricity and propane, providing on-demand hot water and electric heating. The systems are comprehensive, designed for couples ready to embrace full-time tiny living without sacrificing modern conveniences. Rewild Homes builds every house as a custom project, meaning the Juniper serves as a starting point rather than a fixed blueprint. Material choices, finishes, and specific features all shift based on individual preferences and budget. This flexibility ensures each home reflects its owner’s vision while maintaining the thoughtful design principles that make the Juniper stand out.

The Juniper represents a maturation of the tiny house concept. It’s not about how small you can go, but how well you can live in the space you choose. For couples seeking a permanent tiny house solution, this extra-wide design offers proof that downsizing doesn’t mean downgrading. This is tiny living that actually lives well.

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Human-Sized Pokéball Stands At 6 Feet Tall (And Has A Gaming Room Inside)

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Someone finally built a life-sized Pokéball you can actually climb inside, and honestly, it’s about damn time. For nearly three decades, we’ve been throwing these things at Pidgeys and Rattatas without ever really knowing what happens when that button clicks and the whole thing seals shut. The anime gave us vague red-light-energy-conversion-something explanations, the games treated it like a loading screen, and the trading cards just showed them closed. The mystery has persisted through 1,000+ Pokémon species, countless regional variants, and enough spin-off merchandise to fill a Snorlax’s stomach. Now a maker has gone full obsessive and constructed a 2-meter diameter functional Pokéball with a gaming room inside, and the build process is as chaotic as you’d expect when someone decides to turn childhood curiosity into a construction nightmare.

The project started with a simple question that’s plagued Pokémon fans since 1996: what’s inside a Pokéball? Instead of accepting Nintendo’s hand-wavy “they’re converted to energy” explanation, this builder decided to answer it the only way that makes sense for a ’90s kid: put a Nintendo 64 running Pokémon Stadium inside one. The irony is perfect. You’re sitting inside the device that’s supposed to contain Pokémon while playing a game about battling those same Pokémon on a console from the franchise’s golden era. It’s meta in the best possible way, and it scratches that specific nostalgia itch that only people who spent hours trying to catch Mewtwo with a regular Pokéball can appreciate.

Designer: Carlos 3D World

Building a 2-meter sphere that doesn’t look like low-poly trash is harder than you’d think. The structure uses CNC-cut plywood ribs as the skeleton, over 400 individual 3D-printed panels for the shell, then fiberglass and resin for strength. But getting there took multiple spectacular failures. Flexible MDF sheets? Kept breaking. Polystyrene construction material? Dimensional inconsistencies everywhere. The 3D printing solution worked but meant running multiple printers for weeks, upgrading to 0.8mm nozzles just to speed things up, and still ending up with 400+ pieces that needed assembly, alignment, and somehow had to form a smooth sphere. Each piece was 3mm thick, split in half to fit inside the printer beds, then glued back together with hot staples and jigs to maintain the curve. It’s the kind of project where you’re two months in and questioning every life choice that led you here.

The entry door required a minor compromise, but for a better user experience. Instead of splitting the Pokéball at its natural center line where it actually opens, there’s a cutout near the bottom. A proper equator split would mean climbing over a one-meter ledge every time you wanted to play some Pokémon Snap, which sounds cool in theory until you’re the third person trying to haul yourself up without spilling your drink. The lower door lets you walk in like a normal human while still maintaining that iconic spherical silhouette from the outside. It sits on hidden wheels under a green turf mat, so it looks like it’s chilling in tall grass but can actually roll wherever you need it. Practical design choices matter when your art project weighs several hundred pounds and needs to fit through doorways.

Finishing this thing was apparently hell. You’ve got 400+ 3D-printed segments meeting wood meeting fiberglass meeting resin, and every joint is a seam that needs smoothing. The builder slathered on putty, sanded away 90% of it, repeated that process until their arms fell off, and somehow got the surface smooth enough for that glossy red and white paint job. This is the part that separates people who finish ambitious projects from people who have half-built things decomposing in their garage. Weeks of sanding with respirators, dealing with dust everywhere, trying to make a sphere that’s technically made of hundreds of pieces read as one continuous surface. Nobody posts Instagram stories about the sanding phase, but it’s where most of the actual work happens.

Inside, there’s a Nintendo 64 hooked up to a CRT television, custom curved furniture, framed Pokémon cards, and lighting that makes the whole space feel intentional. The electrical system uses a disconnect plug so you can unplug the whole Pokéball and move it without rewiring, which is the kind of forethought that shows someone actually planned to use this thing beyond the initial build photos. Sitting inside while playing Pokémon Stadium on hardware from 1996 creates this recursive loop of nostalgia that works way better than it should. You’re experiencing the franchise through its original medium while physically occupying the space that defined how we interacted with these creatures. It’s experiential design that actually commits to the bit instead of just looking cool in photos.

Pokémon has always worked because it left gaps for imagination. How does a 32-foot Onix fit in there? What does it feel like inside? The games and anime never really explained it, so millions of kids filled in those blanks themselves (Are all humans vegans? We’ve never seen them eating Pokémon). Building a giant Pokéball with a gaming setup inside doesn’t answer the canonical questions, but it does something better. It takes that childhood wonder about what’s inside and makes it real in the most fitting way possible: by putting the games that started everything right at the center. You climb inside, pick up that three-pronged N64 controller, and suddenly you’re back in 1998 trying to beat the Elite Four while your mom yells that dinner’s ready. Except now you’re doing it from inside the icon that defined the entire franchise, which is exactly the kind of full-circle moment that makes you understand why someone would spend months building this thing in the first place.

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This Tiny House Brings Apartment Comfort To Off-Grid Living

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Portuguese woodworking studio Madeiguincho has unveiled its latest masterpiece, a compact dwelling that proves luxury isn’t measured in square footage. The Duna tiny house arrives as a thoughtful response to a client’s desire for something quite specific: the warmth and convenience of city apartment living transplanted into the wilderness, all while staying completely off-grid. Built on a double-axle trailer stretching just six meters in length, the Duna represents a careful balance between mobility and comfort.

The exterior showcases Madeiguincho’s signature timber craftsmanship, with wood cladding that wraps the entire structure in natural warmth. This isn’t just an aesthetic choice. The studio has built its reputation on exceptional woodworking, and every panel, joint, and finish speaks to decades of experience that began in 1990. The home’s roof tells its own story about modern sustainability, with solar panels blanketing the entire surface, capturing enough energy to power the dwelling without any connection to the grid.

Designer: Madeiguincho

This solar setup allows the Duna to settle into remote Swiss landscapes where its owner wanted to establish roots, far from power lines and municipal services. Step inside, and the timber theme continues with rich wooden surfaces creating a cocoon of natural materials. The space is designed for two people, with every centimeter serving multiple purposes. The layout flows seamlessly from living area to sleeping quarters, all bathed in the warm tones of carefully selected wood.

The bathroom stands out as particularly clever. Rather than tucking it away as an afterthought, Madeiguincho gave it a secondary entrance from outside. This transforms the space into a functional mudroom where hiking boots can be shed, wet dogs can be toweled off, and outdoor gear can be stored without dragging dirt through the main living space. Just outside this entrance sits an outdoor shower, perfect for rinsing off after a day spent exploring nature.

What makes the Duna special isn’t any single feature but rather how everything works together. The client didn’t want to rough it or sacrifice modern comforts. They wanted apartment living in the middle of nowhere, and that’s exactly what Madeiguincho delivered. The space feels finished and refined, not like camping but like genuinely living well. The timing of this project feels particularly relevant as more people reconsider what home means and whether bigger truly equals better.

The Duna suggests a different equation entirely: one where quality of materials, thoughtfulness of design, and connection to surroundings matter more than extra bedrooms that rarely get used. Madeiguincho has carved out a distinctive niche in the tiny house world. While others pursue industrial efficiency or ultra-modern aesthetics, this Portuguese studio stays committed to traditional craftsmanship and natural materials. The Duna exemplifies this philosophy, offering a home that feels timeless rather than trendy, handmade rather than manufactured. It’s a dwelling designed for slow living, for paying attention to seasons and sunlight, for remembering that sometimes the smallest spaces hold the strongest possibilities.

The post This Tiny House Brings Apartment Comfort To Off-Grid Living first appeared on Yanko Design.

This 260-Meter Skyscraper Is Dividing Switzerland’s Most Iconic Alpine Village

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The Swiss alpine village of Zermatt has never seen anything quite like this. Heinz Julen, a local hotelier and designer, has unveiled plans for a 260-meter skyscraper that would pierce the sky just 800 meters from the village entrance. The 65-story tower, called Lina Peak, has sparked fierce debate in a community known for its car-free streets and fiercely protected mountain aesthetic. Julen presented his vision to a packed public meeting in mid-November 2025, revealing a structure that would become Switzerland’s tallest building. The tower would rise from a compact 40-by-40-meter footprint on farmland he already owns, sitting at an elevation of 1,500 meters with uninterrupted views of the iconic Matterhorn.

The project addresses a very real problem. Zermatt’s population swells from 6,000 permanent residents to over 40,000 during peak tourism seasons. Property prices have gone stratospheric, vacancy rates hover near zero, and seasonal workers struggle to find anywhere to live. Julen himself faces this challenge annually as a hotel owner, scrambling to house his staff. Employers in the tourism industry consistently struggle to provide affordable accommodation for seasonal workers, as local real estate is prohibitively expensive and vacancies are almost nonexistent.

Designer: Heinz Julen

His solution thinks vertically. Floors 2 through 32 would provide affordable housing for locals and seasonal workers, while floors 33 through 62 would contain luxury apartments aimed at wealthy foreign buyers. The ground levels would pack in 1,000 parking spaces, a 2,500-seat concert hall, retail shops, restaurants, a sports center, a swimming pool, and a daycare center. The comprehensive vision transforms what could be a simple residential tower into a multi-functional hub for the entire community.

Julen frames Lina Peak as a “vertical village” that builds up rather than sprawling outward. He argues that compacted construction protects the soil and reduces environmental footprint while giving seasonal workers a fair shot at decent housing. The estimated CHF 500 million project includes price controls designed to prevent speculation, with housing costs expected to rise no faster than two percent annually. From his perspective, concentrating development in one place reduces land occupation and allows better management of local resources.

The controversy centers on whether a towering glass structure belongs in one of Europe’s most picturesque Alpine settings. Zermatt has built its reputation on preserving traditional mountain architecture, and the Matterhorn dominates every postcard. Julen insists the location sits outside direct sightlines from the village or prime viewpoints, claiming it won’t ruin the iconic views. The idea of dropping a skyscraper in the middle of such an open, scenic setting represents a stark departure from everything Zermatt has stood for architecturally.

Critics question whether luxury apartments for foreign buyers truly solve local housing problems or simply fuel further speculation and inflate property values. Past attempts at alpine skyscrapers in Switzerland have failed, including a proposed 381-meter tower at another mountain village that never materialized. Julen has long been known for unconventional designs in the area, and this proposal pushes boundaries further than ever before. Whether Lina Peak will transform Zermatt’s future or remain an ambitious sketch depends on navigating complex planning approvals and winning over a deeply divided community. The vision aims for completion by 2034, though the path forward remains anything but certain.

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French Tiny House Masters Baluchon Create Light-Filled Sanctuary For Mother & Daughter

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Baluchon, the renowned French tiny house builder known for its artisanal craftsmanship, has unveiled its latest creation: a compact dwelling that challenges conventional notions of small-space living. Named “Into the Woods,” this 20-foot home was custom-built for Sandrine and her daughter, who plan to make it their permanent residence. The project represents another successful collaboration between the celebrated French builder and clients seeking a simpler, more intentional way of life in a beautifully designed space.

The exterior immediately signals Baluchon’s signature aesthetic that has made them stand out in the tiny house movement. Red cedar cladding wraps the structure, complemented by a metal roof and those distinctive pops of color that set the French builder apart from competitors. At just 6 meters long, the home sits on a double-axle trailer, embodying the typical European tiny house proportions that feel intimate rather than cramped. This artisanal approach to exterior design ensures that while all Baluchon homes feature traditional wood cladding, they never appear dull or repetitive.

Designer: Baluchon

Step inside, and the spatial magic remarkably reveals itself. Despite the modest footprint, the interior feels remarkably open and airy, defying expectations for a home of this size. This isn’t accidental but the result of careful planning. Baluchon deployed extensive glazing throughout the design, flooding every corner with natural light and eliminating the dark, cramped spaces that often plague smaller dwellings. The living and dining area benefits most from this approach, with oversized windows on two sides creating an indoor-outdoor flow that makes the space feel significantly larger than its measurements suggest. This luminous quality transforms the tiny house into a genuine sanctuary.

The layout prioritizes functionality without sacrificing comfort, demonstrating Baluchon’s years of experience. A full kitchen lines one wall, while a compact bathroom sits tucked away with a full-size closet positioned strategically next to it. The closet features multiple cabinets, drawers, and hanging space, proving that minimalist living doesn’t mean compromising on storage solutions. Access to the upper level comes via a fixed ladder with wider treads, a design choice that maximizes floor space below while remaining easy to navigate daily. Every element serves a purpose while contributing to the home’s overall aesthetic.

The real innovation happens upstairs, where Baluchon implemented a truly creative solution. Rather than creating two separate, potentially dark sleeping lofts, the builder connected the bedrooms with a stretched net. This clever design serves multiple purposes simultaneously: it maintains visual connectivity between the two spaces, allows light to penetrate throughout the upper level, and adds an element of playfulness to the design. The net transforms what could have been isolated sleeping quarters into a cohesive, light-filled sanctuary that feels both practical and imaginative. This approach perfectly balances the needs of the mother-daughter duo who will call this space home.

The Into the Woods represents more than just another tiny house completion; it embodies a growing movement toward intentional living, where people choose to downsize not out of necessity but as a conscious lifestyle decision. For Sandrine and her daughter, this home offers an opportunity to live in harmony with nature, away from urban density, while maintaining all the essential comforts of modern life. Baluchon continues to prove that small doesn’t mean sacrificing quality or livability. With each new build, they demonstrate how thoughtful design can transform compact spaces into genuine homes where families can thrive long-term. Into the Woods stands as a testament to this philosophy, showing that 20 feet is more than enough space when every inch is carefully considered.

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This Footbridge Has 3 Paths That Rise and Fall Through Steel Waves

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Most pedestrian bridges are neutral pieces of infrastructure, straight spans with railings that get you from one side of a road to the other. A few projects treat bridges as public art, but often as surface decoration rather than structural idea. The Wave Formed Footbridge is a proposal that starts from movement itself, imagining people as waves that literally reshape the bridge as they cross it.

The concept visualizes people walking across the bridge and, in doing so, forming waves of energy that could conceptually deform the structure in space and time. In this case, three people walking on three different paths are imagined as three overlapping waveforms, and those waves are frozen at the center of the span to become the model for the final steel geometry. The bridge becomes a physical record of motion before anyone has even stepped on it.

Designer: Michael Jantzen

The basic layout uses four primary steel channels running the length of the bridge, each deformed into a different wave shape at mid-span, and three separate red paths weaving through them. The two outer paths curve up where the channels distort into waveforms, while the center path curves down. The result is a multi-level crossing where pedestrians can choose to crest over the waves or dip into them, experiencing the same structure in different ways.

As you reach the middle, the outer paths rise into gentle hills that give you a higher vantage point over the highway, while the center path drops into a kind of canyon formed by the looping steel ribbons. Openings in the waves frame views of sky and landscape, and the red deck threads through peaks and troughs, making the act of crossing feel more like moving through a sculptural field than walking a straight line across a gap.

From the driver’s perspective, the underside of the bridge becomes the main event. The four channels loop up and down, casting complex shadows and creating a silhouette that looks like a waveform drawn in steel. As you pass underneath, the bridge acts as a gateway or landmark, not just a slab overhead. It is meant to function as a tourist attraction for the city as much as a safe way to cross a two-lane highway.

The Wave Formed Footbridge proposes that a pedestrian bridge can be a physical record of movement, a wave of steel shaped by the imagined footsteps of those who cross it. Instead of treating people as loads on a diagram, it treats them as the authors of the form. The highway crossing stops being a simple gap to span and starts being a chance to turn everyday movement into something sculptural, visible from both above and below.

The post This Footbridge Has 3 Paths That Rise and Fall Through Steel Waves first appeared on Yanko Design.