This Quebec Home Doesn’t Fight the Forest – It Disappears Into It

Certain kinds of architecture don’t announce themselves. La Maraude, the latest project by Nathalie Thibodeau Architecte, is exactly that — a compact residential dwelling tucked into the dense woodlands of Boileau, in Quebec’s Outaouais region, that earns its presence through restraint rather than spectacle. Completed in 2024, it’s one of the more quietly compelling houses to come out of Canada in recent memory.

The name itself carries meaning. ‘Maraude’ — to roam, to forage — hints at the relationship the house cultivates with its surroundings. Rather than claiming a dominant position along the river’s edge, the architects deliberately set the home deeper within the treeline, orienting the house’s interior life entirely toward the forest. It’s a gesture that shapes everything else about the project.

Designer: Nathalie Thibodeau Architects

The design draws directly from Quebec’s vernacular architectural tradition — steeply pitched rooflines, grounded proportions, and a material palette that feels native to the region. The exterior is clad in natural cedar shingles and topped with a metal roof, two materials with deep roots in the local building culture. These aren’t nostalgic choices. They’re translated through a contemporary lens, stripped of ornament, reduced to their essential geometry. “Designed with particular attention to simplicity, functionality, and respect for traditional codes, La Maraude embodies a successful dialogue between contemporary architecture and local traditions,” says Nathalie Thibodeau Architecte.

What makes the spatial sequence genuinely interesting is the use of two courtyards as organizing devices. The plan doesn’t simply open to the outdoors — it pulls the forest in, fragmenting the landscape into a series of framed views that shift with the seasons. One courtyard faces north, more sheltered and partly enclosed by the building itself, oriented toward higher ground. The other faces south, brighter and more expansive, drawing the eye down toward the lower terrain. The result is a house that reads differently in every light condition, every month of the year.

The second volume, arranged over two levels in response to the site’s slope, plays a more introverted role. Openings here are smaller and precisely placed to frame specific moments within the tree canopy — quiet apertures rather than panoramic statements.

Photographed by Maxime Brouillet, La Maraude has the look of a project that will age well, both materially and culturally. It’s already being discussed as a potential anchor for a broader ensemble of small retreats on the site — a first building in what could become a considered, evolving conversation between architecture and landscape.

The post This Quebec Home Doesn’t Fight the Forest – It Disappears Into It first appeared on Yanko Design.

Casa Pinhal Proves the Best Brazilian Architecture Barely Touches the Ground

Deep in the Serra da Mantiqueira, where the air is thin and the forest floor barely registers sunlight, Cornetta Arquitetura has completed Casa Pinhal — a 690-square-metre residence in Santo Antônio do Pinhal, São Paulo, that reads less like a building dropped into nature and more like one that grew out of it.

The site is demanding by any measure: a 4,900-square-metre plot with a steep incline and dense native vegetation already well established across it. Rather than fight the terrain, lead architect Pedro Cornetta made the land itself the primary design brief. The project was guided by one clear principle — touch the ground as little as possible. The result is a holiday house that gives its guests the impression of walking among trees rather than beside them.

Designer: Cornetta Arquitectura

The structural language is built around glued laminated timber (MLC — Madeira Laminada Colada) and wood frame construction, executed in collaboration with Rewood using eucalyptus sourced for the project. Rewood completed the entire timber structure in just 30 days — 40 cubic metres of glulam going up with a pace that conventional concrete construction rarely allows. The system combines a column beam frame, a trapezoidal sandwich roof, dry panel floor slabs, and wood frame walls, all working together as a prefabricated assembly that keeps the site footprint minimal and the build time compressed.

Inside, the material palette is quieter than the engineering behind it. Wood, concrete, and expansive glass panels define the interior volumes — a combination that Cornetta has refined across several projects, but here feels especially deliberate given the forest density outside. At night, the house undergoes a shift: internal lighting catches the grain of the timber, bounces off the concrete, and filters through the glass, turning what is a disciplined structure by day into something closer to a lantern. It’s the kind of detail that separates a house that photographs well from one that actually earns its place on a hillside.

Casa Pinhal sits in a lineage of work from Cornetta Arquitetura that treats sustainability not as an add-on feature but as a structural argument. Like Casa Guapuruvus before it — positioned to avoid disturbing existing flora and elevated off the ground to protect wildlife — Casa Pinhal was placed where native vegetation was already under stress, turning conservation into a site strategy rather than a branding point.

It’s a house built with the kind of restraint that takes real confidence. And in the Mantiqueira mountains, restraint might be the loudest architectural statement you can make.

The post Casa Pinhal Proves the Best Brazilian Architecture Barely Touches the Ground first appeared on Yanko Design.

The Forest Came First. The House Came Second. That Was Always the Plan.

Most architects are handed a site and told to make something of it. Luiz Volpato was handed a forest and told not to ruin it. House 17-JB, completed in 2022 within the Jardins do Batel condominium in Curitiba, southern Brazil, grew out of a deeply personal brief: a client of Italian descent, a self-professed architecture enthusiast, wanted to find not just land, but the ‘right’ land.

Together with the office, they eventually settled on a plot defined by two non-negotiable conditions — a protected native forest and a dramatically steep topography. Those constraints didn’t limit the project. They became it.

Designer: Luiz Volpato Architects

With occupation restricted to just 30% of the 2,300 square metre plot, and that footprint concentrated along the front portion of the land, the design team was forced to think vertically. The solution was elegant: four overlapping volumes, two elevated and two semi-underground, stacked in direct response to the terrain’s fall and the density of vegetation surrounding the site. The result is a 1,113 square metre home that feels both monumental and discreet, as if the building grew from the hillside rather than being placed on top of it.

Architecturally, the project sits at the intersection of modernism and brutalism, drawing on structural clarity, constructive rationality, and an honest approach to material selection. The material palette tells its own story: moss green upholstery, warm timber millwork, and stone surfaces work together to blur the boundary between inside and out. Natural textures sit alongside smooth finishes, creating an interior that reads as fluid and quiet rather than loud or performative.

On the upper floors, the intimate volume houses the suites and a family living area, with balconies positioned precisely at the height of the tree canopy. Living among the treetops rather than looking up at them is a subtle but powerful distinction, one that shapes the daily experience of the house in ways that no floor plan can fully capture.

The project has since gained international recognition, featured in Edra Magazine No. 5, launched in Milan. It is a fitting acknowledgment for what is, at its core, a study in restraint. Luiz Volpato and his team, alongside project coordinator Pablo Quintela, never tried to compete with the forest. They listened to it instead. House 17-JB is a reminder that the best architecture doesn’t impose a vision on a site. It finds the vision that was already there, waiting to be built.

The post The Forest Came First. The House Came Second. That Was Always the Plan. first appeared on Yanko Design.

This Red House Buried in a Czech Forest Is the Opposite of Every Forest Home You’ve Ever Seen

Deep in the spruce forests of Jevany, a municipality of barely 800 people in the Czech Republic’s Central Bohemian Region, a flash of cherry red cuts through the trees. This is Villa Jevany, a new residence by local studio Architektura, and it has absolutely no interest in blending in. Where most forest homes default to timber, stone, and muted tones, Architektura went the other way entirely, dressing the structure in saturated red steel and calling it exactly what it is: a deliberate, uncompromising act of contrast.

The site itself set the terms. The plot spans a generous 3,027 square meters on a steep southern slope, inhabited by deer, birds, and mature trees that tower up to ten meters above the building level. Architektura responded by carving the villa into the hillside rather than placing it on top, creating a structure the studio describes as an “organism” embedded in the earth. The red steel skeleton, visible in the sawtooth carport roof from the moment of arrival, signals that this is industrial thinking applied to domestic life, and it doesn’t apologize for it.

Designer: Architektura

The colour choice is rooted in theory as much as instinct. Architektura used green and red as complementary colors, a logic borrowed from the colour wheel and, more pointedly, from abstract art. The irregularly divided glazing across the façade draws a quiet reference to Mondrian, the rhythmic geometry of the windows creating a visual tension against the organic verticality of the trees behind them. From the road, the house reads almost like a painting hung in the forest. From the inside, the forest becomes the painting.

Internally, the layout unfolds across five distinct levels. The entrance opens into a hall with a 3.5-meter ceiling height, where a curved wall guides visitors into the main living space, or what the architects call the “day zone.” Here, industrial red steel windows frame the surrounding green; white walls meet black details; reddish stone counters anchor the kitchen alongside a floating steel fireplace. It’s a space of deliberate contrasts, domestic in function and raw in feeling.

The private quarters, reached through a long corridor lined with minimalist white cabinetry, are stripped of excess. The parents’ suite and children’s rooms are quiet and restrained, a counterpoint to the drama of the exterior. Terraces and balconies extend the living area into the canopy itself, turning the house into what Architektura intended all along: not just a place to live, but a place to look.

The post This Red House Buried in a Czech Forest Is the Opposite of Every Forest Home You’ve Ever Seen first appeared on Yanko Design.

Mud, Microbes, and the 46 m² Lab the Amazon Needed

Most of us picture a laboratory as a sleek, sterile box of steel and glass perched on a university campus or inside some tech park. The Witoca Laboratory in Ecuador is none of those things. Built from adobe, shaped like a three-pointed star, and sitting quietly inside the buffer zone of the Sumaco Biosphere Reserve in the Ecuadorian Amazon, it looks less like a lab and more like something that grew out of the ground. Which, in a way, it did.

The building was designed by Ecuadorian studio Al Borde Arquitectos and completed in February 2025 in Huaticocha, a remote community in the Provincia de Orellana. At just 46 square metres (about 495 square feet), it is compact to the point of being almost modest. But modesty is somewhat deceptive here, because the thinking behind it is anything but small.

Designer: Al Borde

The Witoca community, which gives the lab its name, has been working to protect the Amazon’s coffee and cocoa farming from pests. Rather than reaching for chemical pesticides, they have gone in the opposite direction, cultivating antagonistic microorganisms that naturally discourage pest damage. The lab is where that cultivation happens. It is a biosecure environment, meaning it is fully sealed to prevent contamination, and every design decision feeds into that purpose, from its vaulted adobe walls to its airtight interior.

Adobe is not a material most people associate with scientific research, and I think that contrast is exactly what makes this project so compelling. Al Borde chose to work with local soil, using a vaulted construction technique built without formwork, developed in collaboration with structural engineer Patricio Cevallos of the Red PROTERRA network. The vault system draws on techniques rooted in Bolivian adobe construction, adapted here to meet the specific technical demands of a biosecure facility. It is a genuinely rare thing to see ancient building logic serving a cutting-edge scientific function, and Al Borde pulls it off without making either element feel like a compromise.

The Y-shaped plan is another smart move. Each arm of the structure radiates outward from a central point, giving the building a form that feels both purposeful and organic, like something that belongs in the landscape rather than imposed on it. That relationship to place is one of the things Al Borde is consistently good at, and Witoca Lab is a strong example of their approach to what architecture can actually do for a community.

And that community dimension is hard to overstate. The lab is not a vanity project or a showpiece for outside visitors. It exists because the Witoca people needed a way to take a more active, autonomous role in protecting their land and their livelihoods. The project was commissioned by Witoca and supported by CEFA Ecuador, the Italian-Ecuadorian Fund for Sustainable Development, and the Alstom Foundation. That kind of multi-layer collaboration is often messy in practice, but the result here suggests it worked.

There is a broader conversation in architecture right now about what “sustainable” really means, and too often it gets reduced to solar panels and LEED certifications. Witoca Lab asks a different and, I’d argue, more honest question: what does it mean to build something that is genuinely of its place, for the people who live there, using what the land provides? Not every project needs to be on the cover of a design magazine to matter. But Witoca Lab deserves to be.

We spend a lot of time celebrating architecture that is visually dramatic or technically ambitious, and rightly so. But the work that tends to stay with me is the kind where the building quietly solves a real problem for a real community, and where the form and the function feel like they arrived at the same answer at the same time. Witoca Lab is that kind of work. It is made of mud. It is full of microbes. And it might be one of the most intelligent buildings completed this year.

The post Mud, Microbes, and the 46 m² Lab the Amazon Needed first appeared on Yanko Design.

This Leaf-Like Tool Turns Everyday Walks Into Small Acts of Care for Hidden Lives

We have all heard the phrases “Don’t litter.” “Stop global warming.” They appear on posters, billboards, campaigns, and packaging, repeated so often that they begin to blur into background noise. While the intention behind them is urgent and necessary, the language of sustainability has become heavy and exhausting. It often asks people to think at a global scale, to feel responsible for enormous systems that feel far beyond individual control. Over time, this can create distance instead of motivation. But what if sustainability did not begin with fixing the entire planet? What if it started with noticing the small lives right beneath our feet?

LIVIO is a project that reimagines sustainability through small, meaningful actions rooted in everyday experience. On walking trails, mountain paths, sidewalks, and parks, countless tiny creatures move through human spaces each day. Snails, insects, and other small beings navigate these environments quietly, often crossing paths with people who never notice them. It is not uncommon to find these creatures accidentally crushed by footsteps, bikes, or shoes. These moments are brief and easy to overlook, yet they represent lives lost simply because we were not paying attention.

Designer: Subin Kim

The goal of LIVIO is to protect those small lives and to make care feel possible for more people. While many individuals want to help, touching insects or snails directly can feel uncomfortable or even frightening. Fear, hesitation, or disgust often becomes a barrier between intention and action. LIVIO addresses this gap by offering a gentle and thoughtful tool that allows people to help without direct contact.

If you come across a small creature in crisis, LIVIO gives you a simple way to respond. The tool is designed to feel calm and intuitive rather than technical or intimidating. There are two tool types, each responding to different environmental conditions. In areas with little soil, the tongs allow careful and precise movement. In places where soil is present, the shovel tool lets users scoop the creature together with the surrounding ground, preserving its immediate habitat and reducing harm.

A defining aspect of LIVIO is how the tool is completed. Rather than being fully manufactured, it is finished using fallen branches found in nature. By reducing the amount of silicone used as its main material, the tool becomes even more environmentally conscious. The act of finding and attaching branches transforms the experience from simple use into participation. It encourages users to slow down, observe their surroundings, and engage physically with the environment. Sustainability becomes something playful and personal rather than distant or moralizing.

LIVIO also exists as a shared public resource. Tool stations can be installed on street trees, lamp posts, or along walking paths. Their leaf-like form blends naturally into the environment, making them feel like part of the landscape rather than an intrusion. These stations quietly invite curiosity and care, reminding people that small actions matter.

In the end, LIVIO suggests a different way to think about sustainability. Not as a burden, but as a series of small, human moments of attention and empathy. By protecting the smallest lives around us, sustainability becomes more real, more approachable, and even a little more joyful. Sometimes, meaningful change begins not with grand gestures, but with simply noticing what is right in front of us.

The post This Leaf-Like Tool Turns Everyday Walks Into Small Acts of Care for Hidden Lives first appeared on Yanko Design.

This Leaf-Like Tool Turns Everyday Walks Into Small Acts of Care for Hidden Lives

We have all heard the phrases “Don’t litter.” “Stop global warming.” They appear on posters, billboards, campaigns, and packaging, repeated so often that they begin to blur into background noise. While the intention behind them is urgent and necessary, the language of sustainability has become heavy and exhausting. It often asks people to think at a global scale, to feel responsible for enormous systems that feel far beyond individual control. Over time, this can create distance instead of motivation. But what if sustainability did not begin with fixing the entire planet? What if it started with noticing the small lives right beneath our feet?

LIVIO is a project that reimagines sustainability through small, meaningful actions rooted in everyday experience. On walking trails, mountain paths, sidewalks, and parks, countless tiny creatures move through human spaces each day. Snails, insects, and other small beings navigate these environments quietly, often crossing paths with people who never notice them. It is not uncommon to find these creatures accidentally crushed by footsteps, bikes, or shoes. These moments are brief and easy to overlook, yet they represent lives lost simply because we were not paying attention.

Designer: Subin Kim

The goal of LIVIO is to protect those small lives and to make care feel possible for more people. While many individuals want to help, touching insects or snails directly can feel uncomfortable or even frightening. Fear, hesitation, or disgust often becomes a barrier between intention and action. LIVIO addresses this gap by offering a gentle and thoughtful tool that allows people to help without direct contact.

If you come across a small creature in crisis, LIVIO gives you a simple way to respond. The tool is designed to feel calm and intuitive rather than technical or intimidating. There are two tool types, each responding to different environmental conditions. In areas with little soil, the tongs allow careful and precise movement. In places where soil is present, the shovel tool lets users scoop the creature together with the surrounding ground, preserving its immediate habitat and reducing harm.

A defining aspect of LIVIO is how the tool is completed. Rather than being fully manufactured, it is finished using fallen branches found in nature. By reducing the amount of silicone used as its main material, the tool becomes even more environmentally conscious. The act of finding and attaching branches transforms the experience from simple use into participation. It encourages users to slow down, observe their surroundings, and engage physically with the environment. Sustainability becomes something playful and personal rather than distant or moralizing.

LIVIO also exists as a shared public resource. Tool stations can be installed on street trees, lamp posts, or along walking paths. Their leaf-like form blends naturally into the environment, making them feel like part of the landscape rather than an intrusion. These stations quietly invite curiosity and care, reminding people that small actions matter.

In the end, LIVIO suggests a different way to think about sustainability. Not as a burden, but as a series of small, human moments of attention and empathy. By protecting the smallest lives around us, sustainability becomes more real, more approachable, and even a little more joyful. Sometimes, meaningful change begins not with grand gestures, but with simply noticing what is right in front of us.

The post This Leaf-Like Tool Turns Everyday Walks Into Small Acts of Care for Hidden Lives first appeared on Yanko Design.

These Nest-Like Pods Show Prefab Architecture Doesn’t Have To Look Prefab

Nestled within China’s Senbo Amusement Parks, a new architectural vision is taking root. The Forest Nests Treepod Project by Doarchiwow challenges everything we thought we knew about modular construction, transforming prefabricated building into an art form that breathes with its surroundings. These aren’t your childhood treehouses. Each dwelling rises from the landscape like a sculptural organism, its steel skeleton wrapped in layers of wood shingles, weathering steel, aluminum, and glass.

The genius lies in how these materials work together, creating structures that feel less constructed and more cultivated. They could be oversized cocoons suspended in time or nests woven by some mythical creature. What they don’t look like are typical modular buildings, and that’s entirely the point. Doarchiwow, a subsidiary of DO Architects specializing in high-quality prefabricated systems, spent years developing this concept. Design work began in 2021, with the 441.92-square-meter project finally completing in 2025 across two locations in Rizhao, Shandong and Wuhan, Hubei.

Designer: Doarchiwow

Step inside and the experience shifts. Smart home systems and digital networks handle the technical side while floor-to-ceiling glass opens up views of the canopy. The interior curves follow those same organic lines from the exterior. It’s surprisingly spacious for a micro-living unit. Doarchiwow was trying to solve a tricky problem here: how do you mass-produce something that still feels custom? The standardized shell allows for efficient construction, but the spaces inside feel tailored. The pods work as individual retreats while functioning as part of a larger network.

The sustainability angle goes deeper than surface-level green building tactics. Tang Jiajia, Wang Wenrui, and Jiang Hong led a design team that built a three-part environmental strategy into the project. Passive design, active environmental tech, and construction methods that respond to microclimate conditions. Prefabrication keeps ground disturbance minimal. Material waste drops. On-site labor requirements shrink. Each pod essentially runs as its own environmental system, capable of adjusting to different settings and weather patterns.

That adaptability matters because this model could theoretically pop up anywhere. Urban green spaces, protected natural areas, coastal zones, mountain forests. The fluid shapes refuse to look out of place, which is rare for modular buildings. Most prefab structures announce themselves loudly. These ones settle in quietly. It’s a replicable approach that doesn’t require starting from scratch each time.

Doarchiwow seems interested in changing how we think about vacation spaces and construction methods at the same time. They’re targeting boutique resorts, high-end campsites, rural tourism markets. Forest Nests makes the case that prefab doesn’t mean compromising on design or environmental responsibility. You can have efficiency and beauty. The structures prove it’s possible to build quickly without bulldozing the site or creating eyesores. Whether this becomes a widespread model remains to be seen, but it’s a compelling direction for sustainable resort development.

The post These Nest-Like Pods Show Prefab Architecture Doesn’t Have To Look Prefab first appeared on Yanko Design.

These Elevated Timber Treehouses Transform A Chinese Forest Into A Living Art Gallery

Deep in Wuhan’s Dongxihu District, there’s a metasequoia forest where migratory birds gather, and something extraordinary has taken root among the ancient trees. Secret Camp isn’t your typical forest retreat. This collaboration between United Investment Merryda Hotel Management Group and Wiki World has created something that feels part accommodation, part art installation, and entirely magical. More than a dozen treehouses rise through the canopy on Cihui Street, each one carefully positioned so that not a single existing tree was harmed in the process.

The whole project sprang from Wiki World’s Wiki Building School initiative, which sounds academic but is really about pushing the boundaries of how we live alongside nature. Each treehouse has its own personality and tells a different story. Time Machine gleams with futuristic silver that catches sunlight through the leaves. Nomadic Land feels like a cozy capsule for temporary wanderers. Playground brings out your inner child with circulation paths that weave playfully around branches. Then there’s Daydream, which uses mirrored cladding to virtually disappear into the forest, and Red Windmill, standing bold and bright as a beacon in the green canopy. Unicorn takes the vertical route with its loft design and silver panels that hint at mythical stories.

Designer: United Investment Merryda Hotel Management Group & Wiki World

What makes this place special isn’t just the whimsical names or striking designs. The creators drew inspiration directly from the forest itself – local birds, scattered seeds, the organic forms that nature creates without any human input. Every structure sits on elevated timber platforms, leaving the forest floor completely untouched. No paved paths, no manicured landscaping, just the raw beauty of the woodland ecosystem doing what it does best. This approach embodies Wiki World’s “Build Small, Dream Big” philosophy, proving that you can live comfortably without dominating your environment.

But Secret Camp goes beyond just providing a place to sleep among the trees. It transforms the entire forest into an open-air gallery where art happens naturally. Throughout the year, temporary installations pop up, workshops gather creative minds, and exhibitions celebrate the relationship between humans and wildlife. The Forest Reception becomes a buzzing hub where visitors make birdhouses, study natural materials, and participate in projects that blur the lines between accommodation and education. There’s even a Sino-French Construction Festival that brings together people passionate about sustainable building and small-scale living.

The technical side reveals just how seriously they take environmental responsibility. Every structure uses glued laminated timber that’s digitally modeled for precision, then prefabricated off-site to minimize forest disruption during construction. The modular design centers around a clever 2-meter-wide concept that allows for variation while keeping efficiency high. Hand-fired carbonized wood panels give each cabin its natural finish and weather resistance, while small metal joints make everything completely reversible – these treehouses could be disassembled and moved without leaving a trace.

This elevated approach means zero ground contact and zero artificial landscaping, letting the forest maintain its natural rhythms while humans get to experience life in the canopy. Secret Camp proves that sustainable tourism doesn’t have to mean roughing it or compromising on creativity. Instead, it shows how thoughtful design can actually enhance natural settings, creating spaces that engage all your senses while treading incredibly lightly on the earth. It’s accommodation that makes you more aware of the environment, not less.

The post These Elevated Timber Treehouses Transform A Chinese Forest Into A Living Art Gallery first appeared on Yanko Design.

Concrete house lets you live in the middle of the forest

Having lived in a city all my life, I’m used to waking up in the morning, looking out the window, and seeing nothing but buildings. So of course it’s my dream that one day, I’d be able to live in a place where I am surrounded by nature but still have the conveniences of “civilization”. We’re seeing a lot of house concepts right now where all you need to do is step out of your front door or sometimes even just look out your window and you’re one with nature.

Designer: Pérez Palacios Arquitectos Asociados

One such house is Copas, a contemporary and minimalist concrete house located in the forests of Valle de Brava in Mexico so you get the best view of nature from your window and especially from the rooftop terrace, where you feel like you’re part of the forest. The colors of the house are similar to the tree trunks and rock formations that surround it. The overall design of the house gives you the impression like you’re climbing a mountain.

The private bedrooms on the lower level has glazing that frames the forest while the kitchen, dining room, and the lounge space also give a beautiful view of the surrounding woodlands. The terrace on the roof extends towards the trees while the swimming pool on the higher volume is the perfect way to cap off a relaxing day in your abode.

The two-volume house is integrated into the slope so there’s not much excavation that will disturb the surroundings. The house has also different finishes to complement the concrete look, including wood furniture, natural rugs and fabrics so you get an even cozier feeling. This is such an interesting house to live in especially if you’re sick and tired of the concrete jungle.

The post Concrete house lets you live in the middle of the forest first appeared on Yanko Design.