In the second editorial stemming from our collaboration with the OBEL Foundation, the current theme of Ready Made prompts Koozarch founder Federica Zambeletti to ponder circularity in both biological and material or technical terms, recognising currents of contiguous thinking across global design initiatives.
The laws of physics on the conservation of energy and mass clearly state that “energy and mass cannot be created or destroyed, only transformed from one form to another.” Of course these fundamentals refer to closed systems; if one were to get into the nitty-gritty of it, simple words soon escalate into abstract formulae as well as far wider questions and relations. Yet something so fundamental — a credo we are taught at a surprisingly young age, which grounds the balance of our universe into a series of processes and equilibriums, magically leaves our minds as we are trained to become “mature” spatial practitioners and ultimately, linear thinkers. From thinking through circular loops of energy and matter, we start to think and operate through linear systems, with resulting paradoxes in the finished or built object.
It is uncanny to read how many architecture and design classrooms and studios are still heavily focused on training architects to deliver “completed” objects, from the scale of the spoon to that of the building. Although such pursuits might be imbued with the most high-tech solutions in terms of sustainability, relatively few of these face up to the facts of capitalism's short sighted definition of sustainability to the technosphere. Bound up in economic models of growth and backed by certifications that frequently focus on the operational energy of a building, seldom considering its life cycle, most current construction industry models justify demolishing and erecting new buildings, under the assumed pretext that ‘new’ equals ‘more sustainable’. What this model conveniently forgoes is the extractive hollowing that such “new” endeavours incur, both in terms of the “Carboniferous/Jurassic/Cretaceous; deep/shallow reserves” from which we are extracting1 but also the presumed holes we are shaping which will bury the exhausted shells — now potentially toxic waste — of our supposedly sustainable “completed” buildings, whose life span today is generally designed to be of less than 50 years. A built environment which is made of human-made bricks, mortar, concrete, and glass is not designed to be easily taken apart but rather demolished by brute force2, leaving little much more than useless rubble — to the extent that almost 30% of materials delivered to a construction site ends up as waste. It is of course a fact that worldwide, some 40% of all total solid waste is attributed to the construction industry. As the construction sector is set to grow significantly in the coming years, the number of holes that we will need to bury our sins within the depths of Gaia leaves one reeling.
It is thus with a feeling of shared responsibility and not lightly that we take this opportunity to reflect upon the theme of the Ready Made with OBEL, as a means of going back to universal fundamentals. We question what value emerges through thinking through binaries of “made” and “unmade”, and whether we should shift our attention to thinking through notions of equilibrium and continuous processes of transformation.
"We question what value emerges through thinking through binaries of 'made' and 'unmade', and whether we should shift our attention to thinking through notions of equilibrium and continuous processes of transformation."
In the past few weeks and months this question, amongst many other tangentials, have been present in our minds as we engaged in a number of conversations for OBEL with practitioners — including Nzinga Mboup, Adeyemo Shokunbi and Rotor — as well as this year’s OBEL Award winners HouseEurope! From these inspirational exchanges, our editorial activities have traced the explorations of a number of design practices and their methodologies, the visiting of a number of paradigm-shifting exhibitions as well as delving into a series of inspirational publications.
Building on our introductory editorial — through which we framed the potential of thinking through the ready-made as a practice of re-use — we would take this opportunity to focus on the power of design as a creative, subversive and intergenerational process of transformation of assembly and disassembly, where geographical distances are reduced, time-space is stretched and material elements are borrowed and safeguarded for future generations.
"Design is a creative, subversive and intergenerational process of transformation of assembly and disassembly."
First and foremost, such a perspective requires an expanded means of approaching the practice of architecture, one which is not limited to the act of “making” but rather is deeply connected to the notion of “systems thinking" in both ecological and social terms. Seminal within this is the pioneering work of systems architect William McDonough and chemist Michael Braungart and the notion of “cradle-to-cradle”, as presented in the eponymous publication3 where they advocate for a material approach that mirrors the functioning of natural ecosystems — more specifically, where the "waste" of one organism becomes a resource for another. Challenging the dominant cycles of human production that operate on linear “cradle-to-grave” models, such an approach can be applied to both human-made and natural materials as both hold the potential of transformation. Whilst natural materials can decompose “back” into the earth as “biological nutrients”, man-made elements can be designed to be re-employed as “technical nutrients”4.
Staying with this notion of “technical nutrients”, one cannot but draw a parallel between the mission of this year’s winners of the OBEL awards — namely the European Citizen Initiative of HouseEurope! — with the work of Dutch architect Thomas Rau and Sabine Oberhuber. Whilst HE! advocates for the reuse of our existing building stock, Rau and Oberhuber first introduced the idea of a material circularity within the construction sector through ideas like the material passports back in 2011 and projects like Madaster in 2017, as well as the drafting and presentation of the Universal Declaration of Material Rights to the UN. Since 2011, material passports have turned from mere proposition to a reality, gaining traction as a means of ensuring the potential reuse or recycling of materials at the end of a building’s life thus both promoting a circular construction economy whilst enhancing transparency in the construction industry. Fourteen years down the line and one can see how a number of practices and initiatives have built upon this creating projects as Rotor DC (Belgium), Future Built (Norway) as well as Archivo (El Salvador) and even policy changes, like the polluter-pays principle in Hong Kong.
It is thus no surprise to see how a broader perception of design as a transformative process has permeated the cultural sector and been explored as a means of reading institutional collections. Drawing upon the 2017 publication, Materials Matter by Rau and Oberhuber FN, the exhibition and attendant publication of Matter Matters at Disseny Hub in Barcelona curated by Olga Subiros challenges the “hegemonic narratives of matter, problematizing their conceptual frameworks and allowing us to envision a transition from extractivism to compost: from exploitation to cycle, from plunder to regeneration, from dominion to shared responsibility.”FN Unfolding across eight thematic areas — petrochemical, vegetal, animal, microbiological, mineral, digital, intangible, and affective matter — and spanning more than 705 artefacts, this staging seeks to open up the many (hi)stories of our object-oriented world. Here, audiences are invited to reflect on the environmental impact; to consider the potential for circularity of the mundane objects which shape our everyday; to ponder on the binaries of natural vs artificial and to acknowledge that humans are not separate from nature, but part of it — thus reflecting on design’s relationship to the natural world as one which is fundamentally ecological5. One may see, first-hand, the violence inherent in the extraction of materials as a context for “exploring a new way of relating to creation, production and consumption – paving the way for a decarbonised world that sustains life.”
From Barcelona to Los Angeles, the potential of reframing design as a process, is again brilliantly explored in both the exhibition and publication of Material Acts: Experimentation in Architecture and Design, co-curated by Jia Yi Gu and Kate Yeh Chiu at Craft Contemporary. Challenging the notion of materials as “raw resources, fixed products, or inert objects to be sourced from a shelf in the store”, Material Acts “considers materials as participants in and outputs of cultural practices and techniques.” Exhibition labels foreground process over objects; by reframing both human-made naturally sourced objects and materials through verbs — like animating, feeding, stitching and re-fusing — their research redirects our focus toward movement, agency, and embedded systems of change rather than completed artefacts. These terms help to construct a vocabulary of actions that speak to the transformative potential of both “biological nutrients” and “technical nutrients”, effectively stretching material life-spans and revealing the agency of intelligent design within economic systems.
Away from the techno-utopianism of the main exhibition at the Venice Architecture Biennale 2025, certain national pavilions — such as that of Denmark, curated by architect Søren Pihlmann — are testament to the potential of thinking through the transformation of “technical nutrients”. Architectural elements, often composed of complex and extractive materials, are reframed as entities which are temporarily borrowed and safeguarded for use by future generations. At the threshold of a research project and construction site, Build of Site challenges the fleeting nature of the temporary installation to embrace a more lasting and meaningful renovation of the pavilion itself — in which process becomes the display. Observing Pihlmann’s practice closer to OBEL’s hometown of Copenhaghen, projects as Thoravej 29 are testament to the principle of self-recycling, which enabled the metamorphosis of a former 1960s factory into an open community hub; this took place through a process of transformation where slabs were tilted into stairways and façades recomposed as pavements, while doors morphed into furniture6.
"Architectural elements, often composed of complex and extractive materials, are reframed as entities which are temporarily borrowed and safeguarded for use by future generations."
Thinking through the circularity of material cycles, rather than opposing terms of new construction, would seem to form the core of the practice of Mio Tsuneyama. In fact, the Tokyo-based architect is in fact not bound to the practice of adaptive re-use, recognising that although retrofitting “is crucial for reducing waste and conserving earth’s resources, it often demands more effort to update structures to meet modern standards.” However, she also argues that new constructions can offer opportunities to specify the use of recycled and biodegradable materials, which would be less harmful to the earth. Clients permitting, new builds can enable “the incorporation of soil-friendly construction methods, such as independent foundations and rainwater infiltration techniques. New construction can embrace innovative ideas and techniques that promote environmental sustainability and resource efficiency."7
This idea of material transformation finds its potentially most interesting and complex manifestation when thinking through the cycles of “biological nutrients.” This approach — which sits outside western construction logics that rely on materials such as steel, concrete and glass — is inherently rooted in indigenous communities and vernacular knowledge bases. Requiring a stretch in time scales and an opening up of the process of transformation to metabolic processes enacted by non-humans, thinking through “biological nutrients” ultimately offers the potential of re-routing the discipline as an ecological and social practice.
"Thinking through 'biological nutrients' ultimately offers the potential of re-routing the discipline as an ecological and social practice."
Within this framework, a truly paradigm-shifting perspective is offered by Paulo Tavares’ research into the taper forest formations, apparently “discovered” by the North American botanist William Balée in the early 1980s, while working with the Ka’apor people of eastern Amazonia. What first appeared, to Balée — whose eyes were trained, after all, by Western culture — as a true forest, was in reality an old village, long abandoned by human occupants8. Although the houses, the pets and the domestic gardens, were long gone, “the trees that stood all around were an index of past events in human history”. Yet while these “forests were products of social designs, they were as biologically rich and dense as “true” forests, at times even more ecologically diverse.”9 Such an approach clearly challenges Western representations of Amazonia as a so-called “virgin” rainforest territory, a paradigm that continues to allow unlawful extraction, even as it is set to host the upcoming United Nation’s thirtieth edition of the Conference of the Parties later this year.
Beyond botany as matter, raw earth stands out as a low-carbon, locally-available material which does not necessarily require industrial processing. Practitioners such as Nzinga Mboup and Adeyemo Shokunbi — amongst many others operating across Africa and beyond — have been rediscovering and innovating with earth as a primary construction material across both Senegal and Nigeria, shaping meaningful knowledge exchange and spatial experiences across scales and typologies. As a material which encouraged a physical engagement of the body and contact with the hands, it is also a means of reunifying local knowledge systems (which are quickly disappearing) and reasserting a relationship between labour and artefact — one that modernism tried so strenuously to divide through the progressive industrialisation of manufacture. As such, for these practitioners, making space is not merely an ecological endeavour but also a social obligation, one where community participation is key.
"For these practitioners, making space is not merely an ecological endeavour but also a social obligation, one where community participation is key."
From West-Africa to South-East Asia, projects such as Khudi Bari and the Bait Ur Rouf Mosque — both by the practice of architect, researcher and educator Marina Tabassum — are also testament to a wider understanding sustainable architecture practices that have both the environment and community at their core. Specifically, the modular structure of Khudi Bari — entirely constructed by locally-sourced bamboo to reduce both cost and carbon footprint, and developed as a potential shelter for the marginalized and landless population living in the flood-prone regions of Bangladesh — is evidence to the empowering potential of architecture. That the Khudi Bari model is now also deployed in unexpected scenarios — for instance, in what is currently the world’s largest refugee camp at Cox’s Bazaar — speaks to the urgent necessities that are met by generous, intelligent and inclusive design.
It is inspiring, to say the least, to see how such practices can themselves stimulate the vision and approach of a younger generation of practitioners. Arinjoy Sen’s tapestry “Bengali Song” directly draws from Khudi Bari to weave a narrative which “imagines planetary survival by prioritising respect between diverse ecologies and peoples”. Developed in collaboration with female artisans — represented by the SHE Kantha collective in Bengal — the project also reflects upon the agency of the architect “as giving voice to marginalised peoples, reified by conceptually and physically crafting their own narrative.” Presented at the Venice Biennale in 2023, the woven triptych has now been purchased by MoMA as part of its permanent Architecture collection, as a testament to the power and agency of collaborative processes in architecture.
Advocating for a shift — from completed object towards processes transformation and empowerment — cannot be borne by architects alone; rather, this movement should be conceived as a shared responsibility, supported and platformed by institutional practices. The Material Acts publication draws attention to realities such as the Himalayan Institute of Alternatives Ladakh (HIAL) in India, whose educational model is rooted in connecting design to its local ecosystem and builds upon the traditions of Ladakh’s historic rammed-earth architecture. On the other hand, Beatrice Leanza’s most recent book The New Design Museum is an interesting compendium of thoughts and practices which traverses both leading international design institutions and independent realities to explore the design museum’s planetary role.
"Advocating for a shift – from completed object towards processes transformation and empowerment – cannot be born by architects alone; this movement should be conceived as a shared responsibility, supported and platformed by institutional practices."
Presented as both a case study in Leanza’s book and part of OBEL’s network through the recently-completed OBEL Build programme, the design research agenda of LUMA Arles, Atelier Luma stands out as a pioneering example of European approaches to working with "biological nutrients”. Led by curator and designer Jan Boelen and resting on the premise that ideas travel lighter than objects, the programme has developed a four-part methodology for building bioregional assemblages of materials and know-how since 2016. Working closely with local stakeholders as well as specialised partners and challenging the conventional circular economy, Atelier LUMA is guided by the idea that production systems must be scaled to match local resources and needs. Its original experimentation began within the Parc Des Atelier and the Camargue region where, in collaboration with Assemble Studios and BC Architects, LUMA retrofitted one of the existing industrial structures of the parc using matter sourced from a 60km radius which included materials as diverse as rice straw, sunflower stems, salt, soil and limestone waste. Over the last decade the Atelier LUMA programme has shifted its interrogation towards other geographies and materials, including the likes of oyster shells in Japan. Although such an approach clearly embraces metabolic processes, it also questions the potential dangers which got us here: the over-consumption that provides all those tonnes of oyster shells, and the possible over-extraction of other ‘saviour’ materials like algae and eelgrass, causing further imbalance of ecologies in order to produce bioplastic components. Beyond focusing on assembly and disassembly, it's potentially a matter of questioning what we’re building for, and who or what has paid the price.
"Beyond focusing on assembly and disassembly, it's potentially a matter of questioning what we’re building for, and who or what has paid the price."
It follows, we hope, that thinking through the Ready-Made as a means of embracing and celebrating collaborative processes — and away from pre-established outputs — has led us to develop a chain letter format for the following series of articles made in collaboration with OBEL editorial of this year. Shaped as a cadavre exquis — the Surrealist-inspired chain letter experiment, also aptly known as Consequences — Koozarch invites a sequence of practitioners to reflect on ideas suggested by another, and proposing a new idea for the next respondent. In this way, knowledge is shared across uniquely situated practices, geographies and scales. in the hope of weaving a series of open discussions, which further practitioners can build upon in an evolutionary and continuous manner. We hope you stay tuned in for what’s to come.
About
The OBEL Foundation recognises and rewards architecture's potential to act as tangible agents of change that contribute positively to social and ecological development globally. Founded in 2019, OBEL values the plurality of architecture as a practice through expanding who and what defines our built environment. Through various activities, OBEL supports influential ideas and approaches that can spearhead and seed future developments, while driving architectural discourse and education.
Bio
Federica Zambeletti is the founder and managing director of KoozArch. She is an architect, researcher and storyteller whose interests lie at the intersection between art, architecture and regenerative practices. In 2022 Federica founded KoozArch with the ambition of creating a space where to research, explore and discuss architecture beyond the limits of its built form. Prior to dedicating her full attention to KoozArch, Federica collaborated with the architecture studio and non-profit agency for change UNA/UNLESS working on numerous cultural projects and the research of "Antarctic Resolution". Federica is an Architectural Association School of Architecture in London alumni.
Notes
1https://scenariojournal.com/article/the-hole-world/
2Zofia Trafas White, ‘Disassembling: In Search of Models’, in Material Acts: Experimentation in Architecture and Design (Craft Contemporary/Getty PST, 2025).
3"From cradle to cradle: Remaking the way we make things”.
4"From cradle to cradle: Remaking the way we make things”.
6https://pihlmann.dk/project/thoravej-29
7https://www.koozarch.com/interviews/dynamic-cycles-mio-tsuneyama-on-metabolic-management
